Not many Christmas cards made it to our home this year. Every December, there seems to be fewer and fewer “seasons greetings” arriving via the U.S. Postal Service.
Blame social media. It’s so much easier to send out one Facebook or Instagram blast wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year than spending the better part of a day writing notes, addressing and risking paper cuts on the tongue from sealing envelopes, and dashing to the post office to mail the darned things.
I’m no better than most. It’s been eons since I’ve made the effort to actually sit down and write — in my horrendous, unreadable penmanship — a holiday note. I convince myself I’m too busy. I convince myself it’s too expensive.
Still, I miss going to the mailbox and seeing it stuffed with cards. I always looked forward to ripping open the envelopes and reading updates from long-lost pals. Impersonal Facebook keeps friends and family up-to-date ad nauseum these days.
A few savvy friends used to mimeograph — look it up, young people — a typed or handwritten note and send it along with a card to everyone on their list. The cheesy notes, accompanied by a family photo, would recap the year, often to absurdly ridiculous lengths.
A great idea. But Christmas is tomorrow, so, with this procrastinating slacker’s most heartfelt apology, here’s a copy of my letter that you should have received in the mail.
Merry Christmas to all.
Dear friends,
As you’ve come to expect, 2019 was another exciting, action-packed year for the Brothertons.
The decade ended in spectacular fashion, with the missus and me enjoying the vacation of a lifetime in New Zealand. The White Island volcano erupted on our second day there, resulting in the deaths of many tourists. We were planning to go, but my irritable bowel syndrome was erupting as well, probably due to overindulging in kiwi burgers and hokey pokey ice cream, and I spent an entire day in a public toilet. We were saddened that 47 people lost their lives, but we weren’t going to let it ruin our vacation fun!
We didn’t fare as well on our 10 day/6 night spring trip to Pyongyang, North Korea. On our way to Department Store No. 1, we somehow got lost and stumbled onto the site of a ballistic missile test. Just our luck. The overnight accommodations in that basement prison were dreadful, and the innkeepers were rude and nasty; you bet your life I gave them a bad review on TripAdvisor!
The missus had a Juul of an idea to open a vape shop, Planet of the Vapes, to capitalize on the e-cigs fad. We were a couple of days from holding a Grand Opening celebration, when our governor, Charlie Baker, foolishly put the health of the state’s young people ahead of our financial interests. We lost our shirts. What’s a few collapsed lungs compared to a successful enterprise? And we thought Massachusetts was a business-friendly state! What a joke!
The political turmoil tearing apart our country also created turbulence in the relationship of Cousin Clyde and his wife, Winifred, who separated after 42 years of marriage. Seems that Clyde is a huge fan of our president and insisted on putting a Trump re-election sign on their front lawn. Winnie, a supporter of Mayor Pete, grew tired of people driving by throwing rocks at their house. A sign-on-the-lawn every-other-day compromise was reached, but it didn’t last. That’s OK, we never liked Winnie anyway.
On a positive note, our amazing kids continue to inspire us.
Our oldest, little Billy, who you probably remember wowed critics and his classmates with superb performances in productions of “American Buffalo” and “A Raisin in the Sun” at his all-boys high school, moved to California with dreams of movie stardom. He changed his name to Big Sir and found success from the get-go, landing several lead parts in the adult film field. We are so proud!
Alas, poor Emily. We were worried that she wouldn’t graduate from Rob Gronkowski High School, because she wasted way too much time checking fashion websites and text messages. But our little sweetie surprised everyone by getting solid C’s and D’s, allowing her to pomp-and-circumstance with her Class of 2019. Our baby had her heart set on attending college, so the missus and I met this guy at the gym who said he could get her an athletic scholarship to the University of Southern California. On the rowing team no less, even though she’s aquaphobic! Best half-a-mil we ever spent. And it’s great to know she’ll be living so close to her big brother. Maybe he’ll introduce her to his circle of friends and she’ll find a nice young man.
Our youngest, Brayden, possesses a rare musical talent for one so young. Obsessed with K-pop and hip-hop, our 7th-grader has posted several videos on YouTube and, fingers crossed, will soon be sharing the stage with his heroes Eminem, Snoop, Fiddy and Lil Peni$. He’s started a crew, which he’s named Teabag, and adopted the moniker Biggie Low. His homies, Braedon and Bradon, will be Earl Grey and Sleepytime respectively. Our next-door neighbor, Katelyn, will be Chamomile, and his classmates Caitlyn, Kaitlynn and Kaitlin will be Pepper Mint, Red Rose Hips and Chia Matcha. Keep an ear open for these super-talented kiddoes.
That’s about it from our end. We wish you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and hope your 2020 is close to being as great as ours will be.
Love,
The Brothertons
