We all get them, and some of us write them. And now that many of us are on Facebook, I wonder if anyone really needs them. I’m referring to the annual one page diary stuffed into Christmas cards, perhaps with a photo or two.
These missives are generally a single page document, though I have one example of a family that has so much news to share that it has occasionally spilled over onto a third or fourth page. But from there, the format and content vary widely.
I feel that human attention spans being what they are, especially at this busy time of year, anything that requires devotion of time should be limited to one side of one page, preferably double-spaced and using a minimum of a 12 point font. If you’re more interesting than that, you’re probably on the local news.
Technology has begun to impact this tradition as well. Why use ink, paper, envelope and a postage stamp when the document can be sent as an email attachment in the blink of an eye? Perhaps the fear is that it’s too easy for the receiver to say, “Oh, it’s one of those” and unceremoniously hit delete. Paper really gets in your face, takes its place on the kitchen counter, and gives you an extra reason to take out the recycling.
We sometimes set all of our letters aside and read them well after the holidays. Or at least we did in Chicago, when a snowy day was conducive to staying in your pajamas until noon, sipping endless coffee and reading a stack of pages that was rushed to the post office before Christmas.
Rather than a point by point detailing of every time you left the house during the year, related chronologically and with accompanying photographs, I feel that “This Is Us” publications should be loaded with humor, hopefully self-deprecating, succinct and categorized by person, with perhaps 2-3 sentences each.
It’s demoralizing to get to the bottom of page one and realize that it’s still March, your cousin’s neighbor’s wife is thinking about planting petunias this spring, and shopping for Easter bonnets has begun in earnest. No, newsworthy items should be limited to nuclear family unless your cousin won the Nobel Prize (though that would be on the news, so never mind.)
Which of the following two paragraphs would you more enjoy reading?
We spent Spring break in Tucson this year. The temperature was in the mid 70s and the humidity was quite low. Each day we arose shortly after sunrise and had breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage and toast on the patio, which is delightfully constructed of bluestone shapes that resemble a puzzle pieced together. After breakfast we went for a walk.
Or
So, there I am grilling dinner in near darkness on the patio, when I turned to go into the house for a plate. As I stepped on a misplaced bungee cord, thinking it was a rattlesnake, I suffered a full body clench that caused me to lose my balance and tumble into the screen door. Being somewhat more massive than the door, I proceeded to tear it from it’s track, buckle the aluminum frame and collapse its entirety around my body like a toga, which I wore while laying sprawled out on the dining room floor.
Now, both of these actually happened many years ago. I never included either in the Christmas letter, but I think I should have. The second is a continued source of laughter for my now adult children, who witnessed the event and have shared it with friends in several countries.
We rarely do anything worth bragging about. We can be proud of degrees earned, children born, marriages and really interesting vacations. But I have noticed on occasion a not so subtle spinning of facts, or omission of glaring truths in some people’s recounting of the year that was.
For instance, getting a job at Denny’s is hardly “Bentley endeavored to secure a management position in the food service industry.”
And
Hey, where did that baby come from?!
So, this is not my annual Christmas letter. It’s a bonus. The other one is on the computer. We need to buy printer ink, paper and stop at the post office to get stamps. With any luck it will go out mid January.
Merry Christmas! I am so looking forward to reading your letters. No, really!