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draft of holiday letter
Dec. 16th, 2021 11:42 amI managed to come up with something for my mother's card insert that was sad and positive and informative (for people with plenty of money, lots of repair work in one's damp crawlspace is just news, without an emotion attached). The one for our cards has been more difficult. The short version we came up with was "we're OK, mostly." That's a little *too* short. Arthur's Facebook people know about the cancer. I don't know what percentage of our card list would be familiar enough with my personality to not be taken aback by some of the stuff I might want to say. And as a person who comes down on the science side (usually) rather than the supernatural, should I be ashamed of admitting that I worry about the possibility of a jinx? Anybody who knows me well is aware of it, though.
How about this?
Last year I sent out the cards quite early. Including the "everything is fine" message turned out to be a mistake, because my father died of aspiration pneumonia almost immediately after people got the cards. So this year, after months of Arthur and my mother having serious health problems, I am not going to make any strong statement. On the cheerful side, we've spent a lot of pleasant time outdoors, including long walks and runs and restaurant meals at places that served on their patios (or sidewalks, or street lanes in some local areas). We had a few home indoor meals with our daughter and her fiance, as all of us are very careful about masking in public, are completely vaccinated, and regularly tested. One of those was a Thanksgiving feast at their apartment. We've had massive amounts of dental work. I'm almost done with the to-do list, scheduled to get an implant post put in on the day of the Solstice. I think gratefully of the line from Michael Smith's song "Spoon River": "The Union's preserved, if you listen, you'll hear all the bells." The January insurrection failed, although we still don't know what will happen. And I've been ringing tower bells in person (all ringers vaccinated and masked, windows open) and doing online "handbell" ringing as well. Arthur juggles in the house and the driveway, always by himself, although several neighbors have said they've been watching from their homes. We're tired. We're OK, mostly.
How about this?
Last year I sent out the cards quite early. Including the "everything is fine" message turned out to be a mistake, because my father died of aspiration pneumonia almost immediately after people got the cards. So this year, after months of Arthur and my mother having serious health problems, I am not going to make any strong statement. On the cheerful side, we've spent a lot of pleasant time outdoors, including long walks and runs and restaurant meals at places that served on their patios (or sidewalks, or street lanes in some local areas). We had a few home indoor meals with our daughter and her fiance, as all of us are very careful about masking in public, are completely vaccinated, and regularly tested. One of those was a Thanksgiving feast at their apartment. We've had massive amounts of dental work. I'm almost done with the to-do list, scheduled to get an implant post put in on the day of the Solstice. I think gratefully of the line from Michael Smith's song "Spoon River": "The Union's preserved, if you listen, you'll hear all the bells." The January insurrection failed, although we still don't know what will happen. And I've been ringing tower bells in person (all ringers vaccinated and masked, windows open) and doing online "handbell" ringing as well. Arthur juggles in the house and the driveway, always by himself, although several neighbors have said they've been watching from their homes. We're tired. We're OK, mostly.
