Saturday, December 11, 2004

640 Don't let the Grinch steal your Christmas letter

It is that time of year when pundits, pastors and PollyAnnas remind us to save money, time and paper and not send the ubiquitous Christmas letter. Who are they to diminish our fun? We've already had 2 or 3 wonderful letters (so, they not only HAVE grandchildren, but they speak French or Italian) and two family photos of weddings/reunions. I love this stuff. The letter today we got from Dave and Gina brought back some wonderful memories of when we lived together in 1963. (They lived in the upstairs apartment and we lived downstairs.) And after 50 years of a buzz it looks like Dave has let his hair grow out and he has curls! Tim, a widower, is planning to move out of his home and just start travelling across the country in an RV. I look forward to hearing the rest of the accounts of 2004 and the plans for 2005. With blogging, I have no more secrets to tell about my life, but I'll probably put a letter together if my husband can get one of his paintings on to a card. I'm not sure some of my cousins twice removed have internet access.

2 comments:

Don said...

People complain about those Christmas newsletters but I love 'em. I don't really care about the details and I forget them almost immediately. But I love the glimpse into other lives that has been volunteered. Kind of like browsing blogs only more comprehensive and readable.

So I wrote one once or twice. The most important thing is you keep it to one side of one piece of paper.

They can be very disappointing. I'll never forget the first (and possibly last) one my mother did. It was all about the trips and seminars etc. etc. taken by her and her husband and many details, some quite mundane, of their life together that year. But she left out that her son finally graduated from college and also brought her her first grandchild. Minor details, perhaps, but my wife and I were not favorably impressed by the omission.

Norma said...

Yes, that would hurt.

And then there is the other extreme where you only hear about the grandchildren (whom we don't know) and nothing about the friends of 30 years ago.