HOW HONEST ARE CHRISTMAS NEWSLETTERS?

The first week in December, they start filling our mailbox. Family Christmas letters from family and friends recounting all their successes, awards, added grandchildren, ad infinitum. It's the Annual Bragging Time at the OK Corral. If these letters are to be believed, not one person in America had a bad hair day last year.

 

In an infrequent spurt of total literary honesty, I decided my Christmas letter this year would be a candid account of 2007. Just the facts, ma'am. Just the facts. Bare, unvarnished, unpolished.

 

So I began our family Christmas letter yesterday detailing our root canals, disturbing home town news, Emergency Room visits, household disasters, vehicle breakdowns, ongoing battle with sugar ants, and the joys of living near a nuclear power plant and an ammunition storage facility at Sunny Point.
Then I stopped mid-sentence. Nobody wants to read that stuff. I mean, Christmas is a time for joy, peace, love, giving and ummmmm, exploding credit cards (but we won't go there). So in the true spirit of Christmas, I'm sending out the following Christmas letter.

 

Dear Everyone On My Mailing List:

It's been another FABULOUS year for the Holbrook family.
John discovered to his surprise that he was literally making more money in the stock market than we knew what to do with. We spent weeks pondering whether we should buy another $10 million home, plant another successful expedition flag on Mt. Everest, or bid on Rubens' painting, "Massacre of the Innocents" for $78 million at Sotheby's. Decision, decisions.
This was an outstanding year for John in other ways, too. He became so physically fit that he appeared on Channel 9 to display his awesome dexterity. For his finale, he juggled six double-edged axes while doing a wood carving of an elk.
My 2002 Pulitzer Prize for my newspaper column sits proudly on the mantle beside my framed nomination for the coveted Nobel Peace Prize. In a last-minute gesture of good will, I deferred to former President Jimmy Carter. I shouldn't have, but I did. Chalk it up to my inherent goodness.

 

Our sons' meteoric rise in the corporate world only reinforces our belief that the benefits of inherited money cannot be underestimated. Thank God for our parents who worked hard in hosiery mills and furniture factories to velvet-line our current, very healthy bank portfolio.

 

Our granddaughter, Abby, is the only five year old in history to be accepted at Yale Law School while two-year-old Jackson's picture graced the cover of Time magazine as "Child Prodigy of the Year." But please don't be jealous because our grandkids are so much smarter than yours. We only mention this because our phones ring constantly with media requests and we're just happy you're not burdened with this aggravation.

 

Our lives are glorious, our health is superb, our looks keep improving, our list of influential friends keeps growing, our money tree resembles Jack in His Highest Beanstalk.
Is there no end to our success?
Merry Christmas from our house to your house.

Mariane and John