"Ooooh, that is such a good idea!" (My response when Shulamith suggested a crossword puzzle.)
You see, every year since Gerald and I were married, we've sent out a Christmas letter/card/greeting of some kind. In the early years, our letters were more traditional, but I quickly tired of those, so for the last 15-ish years, I've sought newer, more creative ideas. The problem is, I'm running out of those.
I've written an acrostic poem, using the all the letter of our two last names. I've made a multiple choice test. I've done a "thumbs up / thumbs down" format, to highlight the highs and lows of the year. I've done an award show theme, giving everyone his or her own award. One time I asked everyone the same three questions and wrote their answers. Another year I did "The 12 Days of Erichsen-Webster Christmas." Another year I did "Quotable Quotes," citing a memorable quote from each of us. Some of these ideas I stole from my friend, Trudy. Others I found online. Still others I thought up myself.
My absolute favorite Christmas letter, the one I try to equal every year but never succeed, is from 2014 when I rewrote the poem "Twas The Night Before Christmas" to reflect our family. Here it is, if you'd like to read it again.
This year's letter doesn't even come close to that one, but it was fun to write nonetheless. I was totally stumped trying to come up with a new idea when Shulamith came to the rescue with the crossword puzzle suggestion. It's not a live link, so you'll need to highlight/copy/paste it into your browser, but that should work fine. So here it is:
...drum roll...
CrosswordHobbyist.com/708062/Erichsen-Webster-Family-Puzzle
SPOILER ALERT!!!
Next, I'm going to post the answers, so if you'd like to try to solve the puzzle first, STOP SCROLLING NOW.
Puzzle Answers:
Across
4 Waffles
5 Gerald
6 Theodore
7 Shulamith
8 ElderErichsen
13 Mathew
14 Luke
16 Kennedy
Down
1 Amanda
2 Terrianne
3 MrWebster
9 Desiree
10 Ramsay
11 Isaiah
12 Swen
15 Evelyn
Saturday, December 21, 2019
Wednesday, December 11, 2019
Thanks for letting us crash on your Disney vacay!
Quite a while ago, perhaps as much as a couple of years, my niece Carley mentioned that she and her sister Leslie planned to take their kids, Finn (Carley) and Sydney (Leslie), to Disneyland in December of 2019 when both kids would be five years old. "You should come!" she said. It was such a kind invitation, but in that moment, I doubt either of us thought I really would.
Then, time creeped on us; you know how creepy time can be. Leslie sent out a group text to everyone who had ever expressed any interest in joining this family trip, including me. "Hmmm?" I thought. "Maybe I would love to go. Maybe Shulamith would love to go. It would be so fun." And just like that, the plans began to take form. Shulamith decided to take just her two older kids and leave two-year-old Theodore at home with Matt. The last time I was at a Disney resort without a baby or toddler was in 2008, when our family went to Walt Disney World in Florida. Seth was eight, so able to ride every ride. It was (and remains) the most wonderful vacation of my life.
So, yes, I was excited for a Disney trip with no babies to slow us down. By July, we had booked our flights and hotel, and all we had to do was wait for it to be December. No worries. Time was creepy once again. Last Friday we boarded a Jet Blue airplane for our Disney adventure (or should I say our vacation-crashing adventure)? My nice family reassured me we weren't crashing and they were happy we were there. I believe them.
As for the trip, let's divide it into two categories: "Awesome" and "Not So Awesome." Fortunately, the "Awesome" category wins hands down.
AWESOME
1. Off season in the parks. Seriously, I will never again go to a Disney resort when school is not in session. Crowds were minimal, especially in the mornings. We arrived at opening all three days and strolled down the streets.
2. MaxPass - $10/day and worth every penny. If the simple fast pass wasn't enough, now there is this new thing (well, new to me) called MaxPass where you can access fast passes electronically on your phone. Say what?? Yep, Shulamith organized this thing like a boss, and we ride junkies rode a big attraction pretty much every hour. I got to ride Space Mountain, my favorite ride in all of Disneyland, three times! We also rode Thunder Mountain three times, Star Tours and the Haunted Mansion twice each, as well as Pirates, Small World, Matterhorn, Teacups, Dumbo, and the new Star Wars ride. Shulamith and Swen rode Indiana Jones; Kennedy was a tad too short, and I don't ride that one because it's Rated "S."
In California Adventure, we rode Guardians (formerly Tower of Terror) twice, Soarin' twice, and Incredicoaster (formerly Screamin') almost twice (we had fast passes for a second time but had to leave to meet my lovely family for dinner). Oooh, but that one time was magnificent!
3. Food. We have some food traditions at Disneyland, and we managed to eat every one of them. The first is a giant turkey leg with corn on the cob. Mmmmm! Second (for me) is a sourdough bread bowl filled with piping hot clam chowder. Shulamith doesn't eat this one because she doesn't always appreciate good food. And we now have a third tradition, discovered this trip: churro toffee! Oh. My. Goodness. It's toffee covered in white chocolate, then sprinkled with cinnamon sugar all around. Not even kidding.
4. Kind TSA agents at Long Beach Airport. You know how TSA agents are usually jerks? As in they need to take a writing class from me and learn about tone? Well, this time, instead of flying into LAX, we opted to use the Long Beach Airport, and for real, the TSA agents were amazing. They didn't yell at us. They didn't act like police posers, who, given the tiniest bit of authority, treat others like garbage. They spoke at a normal volume. They smiled. They said "please"! Unable to restrain myself, I said to one of them, "Thank you so very much for not yelling at me and for being polite and respectful." Pretty sure he thought I was nuts, but I don't care.
5. Uber/Lyft. The heck with expensive, inconvenient shuttle vans or taxis: go Uber! We were just a bit over a mile from the parks, but decided to reserve our energy for riding rides (reputation as ride junkies to maintain and all that), so we used either Uber or Lyft to and from. It was only around $6.00 each way and so perfectly convenient. The drivers had diverse personalities, some chatty and some reserved, but all were just fine.
6. Bipbbidi Bobbidi nearly breaks the bank. But then, I suppose the making of a princess doesn't come cheap. Shulamith's daughter, Kennedy, and my niece Leslie's daughter, Sydney, were transformed from regular five-year-old girls into sparkling Disney princesses right before our eyes, courtesy of their own personal fairy godmothers at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique.
7. The weather. Shulamith kept close tabs on the forecast before we left, and ooooh, it was not great. As most of you know, about 99% of the time, I prefer rain to any other type of weather. The 1%? A Disneyland vacation. So when rain was predicted two of our three days in the parks, we packed ponchos and umbrellas for everyone, determined not to let a little wetness dampen our fun. The day we arrived, it poured "Paraguay style" all afternoon, but that was literally the only rain we saw. Our days in the park were around 60 degrees and partly sunny. Perfect.
8. My Portland family (or some of them, anyway). Again, thanks for the invite! I love you all.
NOT SO AWESOME
1. New Rated "S" rides. Why???? Apparently, they redo Small World and the Haunted Mansion just for Christmas, which would be fine EXCEPT the holiday versions both feature those horrible creatures, and really big ones! I will be forever grateful to Shulamith's seven-year-old son, Swen, who had my back all the way: "Her! Close your eyes now," he directed. Then he carefully watched and told me when it was safe to look.
2. Splash Mountain. We were determined to ride this, even in winter, so we donned our rain ponchos and headed over there, but just as we were about to scan our passes and jump in the fast pass line, the ride shut down. It was only temporary, but by the time it was back up and running, it was late, dark, and we were tired. The possibility of getting soaked was no longer appealing. Next time.
3. Lost credit card and missed fireworks. Okay, don't worry. It could have been so much worse. On our final day, Shulamith took my credit card to buy us some donuts, and after that, I couldn't find it. She thinks she gave it back to me, and maybe she did, but it didn't make it back into my wallet and was nowhere to be found. We didn't discover it missing until nighttime, just before the fireworks, so I left Shulamith and her kids strategically positioned (we thought) to watch the display and went to find a quiet place to call the bank and cancel my card. That process, though successful, took quite a long time, so I was just grateful the three of them were watching the beautiful fireworks I could hear exploding in the distance. Except they weren't. Sadly, the spot we selected was too far to the right of the castle, which blocked the whole display. Ah, well, now we know.
As you can see, it was way more awesome than not awesome. We returned last night, exhausted but happy, to real life and full-on Christmas prep. May we remember, as we prepare, the reason for all the joy:
"Come to Bethlehem and see
Him whose birth the angel sing;
Come, adore on bended knee
Christ the Lord, the newborn King."
Then, time creeped on us; you know how creepy time can be. Leslie sent out a group text to everyone who had ever expressed any interest in joining this family trip, including me. "Hmmm?" I thought. "Maybe I would love to go. Maybe Shulamith would love to go. It would be so fun." And just like that, the plans began to take form. Shulamith decided to take just her two older kids and leave two-year-old Theodore at home with Matt. The last time I was at a Disney resort without a baby or toddler was in 2008, when our family went to Walt Disney World in Florida. Seth was eight, so able to ride every ride. It was (and remains) the most wonderful vacation of my life.
So, yes, I was excited for a Disney trip with no babies to slow us down. By July, we had booked our flights and hotel, and all we had to do was wait for it to be December. No worries. Time was creepy once again. Last Friday we boarded a Jet Blue airplane for our Disney adventure (or should I say our vacation-crashing adventure)? My nice family reassured me we weren't crashing and they were happy we were there. I believe them.
As for the trip, let's divide it into two categories: "Awesome" and "Not So Awesome." Fortunately, the "Awesome" category wins hands down.
AWESOME
1. Off season in the parks. Seriously, I will never again go to a Disney resort when school is not in session. Crowds were minimal, especially in the mornings. We arrived at opening all three days and strolled down the streets.
2. MaxPass - $10/day and worth every penny. If the simple fast pass wasn't enough, now there is this new thing (well, new to me) called MaxPass where you can access fast passes electronically on your phone. Say what?? Yep, Shulamith organized this thing like a boss, and we ride junkies rode a big attraction pretty much every hour. I got to ride Space Mountain, my favorite ride in all of Disneyland, three times! We also rode Thunder Mountain three times, Star Tours and the Haunted Mansion twice each, as well as Pirates, Small World, Matterhorn, Teacups, Dumbo, and the new Star Wars ride. Shulamith and Swen rode Indiana Jones; Kennedy was a tad too short, and I don't ride that one because it's Rated "S."
In California Adventure, we rode Guardians (formerly Tower of Terror) twice, Soarin' twice, and Incredicoaster (formerly Screamin') almost twice (we had fast passes for a second time but had to leave to meet my lovely family for dinner). Oooh, but that one time was magnificent!
3. Food. We have some food traditions at Disneyland, and we managed to eat every one of them. The first is a giant turkey leg with corn on the cob. Mmmmm! Second (for me) is a sourdough bread bowl filled with piping hot clam chowder. Shulamith doesn't eat this one because she doesn't always appreciate good food. And we now have a third tradition, discovered this trip: churro toffee! Oh. My. Goodness. It's toffee covered in white chocolate, then sprinkled with cinnamon sugar all around. Not even kidding.
4. Kind TSA agents at Long Beach Airport. You know how TSA agents are usually jerks? As in they need to take a writing class from me and learn about tone? Well, this time, instead of flying into LAX, we opted to use the Long Beach Airport, and for real, the TSA agents were amazing. They didn't yell at us. They didn't act like police posers, who, given the tiniest bit of authority, treat others like garbage. They spoke at a normal volume. They smiled. They said "please"! Unable to restrain myself, I said to one of them, "Thank you so very much for not yelling at me and for being polite and respectful." Pretty sure he thought I was nuts, but I don't care.
5. Uber/Lyft. The heck with expensive, inconvenient shuttle vans or taxis: go Uber! We were just a bit over a mile from the parks, but decided to reserve our energy for riding rides (reputation as ride junkies to maintain and all that), so we used either Uber or Lyft to and from. It was only around $6.00 each way and so perfectly convenient. The drivers had diverse personalities, some chatty and some reserved, but all were just fine.
6. Bipbbidi Bobbidi nearly breaks the bank. But then, I suppose the making of a princess doesn't come cheap. Shulamith's daughter, Kennedy, and my niece Leslie's daughter, Sydney, were transformed from regular five-year-old girls into sparkling Disney princesses right before our eyes, courtesy of their own personal fairy godmothers at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique.
7. The weather. Shulamith kept close tabs on the forecast before we left, and ooooh, it was not great. As most of you know, about 99% of the time, I prefer rain to any other type of weather. The 1%? A Disneyland vacation. So when rain was predicted two of our three days in the parks, we packed ponchos and umbrellas for everyone, determined not to let a little wetness dampen our fun. The day we arrived, it poured "Paraguay style" all afternoon, but that was literally the only rain we saw. Our days in the park were around 60 degrees and partly sunny. Perfect.
8. My Portland family (or some of them, anyway). Again, thanks for the invite! I love you all.
NOT SO AWESOME
1. New Rated "S" rides. Why???? Apparently, they redo Small World and the Haunted Mansion just for Christmas, which would be fine EXCEPT the holiday versions both feature those horrible creatures, and really big ones! I will be forever grateful to Shulamith's seven-year-old son, Swen, who had my back all the way: "Her! Close your eyes now," he directed. Then he carefully watched and told me when it was safe to look.
2. Splash Mountain. We were determined to ride this, even in winter, so we donned our rain ponchos and headed over there, but just as we were about to scan our passes and jump in the fast pass line, the ride shut down. It was only temporary, but by the time it was back up and running, it was late, dark, and we were tired. The possibility of getting soaked was no longer appealing. Next time.
3. Lost credit card and missed fireworks. Okay, don't worry. It could have been so much worse. On our final day, Shulamith took my credit card to buy us some donuts, and after that, I couldn't find it. She thinks she gave it back to me, and maybe she did, but it didn't make it back into my wallet and was nowhere to be found. We didn't discover it missing until nighttime, just before the fireworks, so I left Shulamith and her kids strategically positioned (we thought) to watch the display and went to find a quiet place to call the bank and cancel my card. That process, though successful, took quite a long time, so I was just grateful the three of them were watching the beautiful fireworks I could hear exploding in the distance. Except they weren't. Sadly, the spot we selected was too far to the right of the castle, which blocked the whole display. Ah, well, now we know.
As you can see, it was way more awesome than not awesome. We returned last night, exhausted but happy, to real life and full-on Christmas prep. May we remember, as we prepare, the reason for all the joy:
"Come to Bethlehem and see
Him whose birth the angel sing;
Come, adore on bended knee
Christ the Lord, the newborn King."
Thursday, December 5, 2019
Do you ever move the day?
Growing up as the daughter of a fire fighter, I thought everyone moved holidays to whichever day worked best. At our house, regular family discussion included the question, "What day will we celebrate Christmas [or Thanksgiving or Easter] this year?" It was far more important to have my dad with us than to celebrate on any certain day.
In my adult life, no one in my immediate family is a first responder, but Gerald worked many years for newspapers that published 365 days a year. Once again, we moved holidays to when we could all be together.
For the past 10 years, we've had kids working at Macaroni Grill, and yes, it's open all the major holidays, including Christmas. So yes, we continue to move the day in order to celebrate with everyone.
This has always been my "normal." I'm often surprised to hear about families that always celebrate Christmas on Dec. 25th or Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday in November. Like every year? Really? What if someone can't come?
That said, not everyone likes the idea of moving the day. Seth, for example, is not a fan. Here's a post about that from four years ago. But I'm guessing once he comes home after two Christmases without his family, he'll be thrilled to celebrate on whatever day works.
This year, Gerald, Amanda, and Eli all worked on Thanksgiving. Our solution was to prepare and eat the Thanksgiving feast the Sunday prior, and then to go to Mac. Grill for dinner on the "real" day. It worked great! That Sunday we feasted on the traditional roast turkey, stuffing, smashed potatoes and gravy, glazed carrots, and deviled eggs. For dessert, both pumpkin and chocolate pies and my own personal chocolate-dipped pecan tart. Everything was delicious. Isaiah flew home just in time for dinner, so aside from Luke, who lives in Maryland, and Seth, who is all the way in Paraguay (sigh!), we were all here.
Thursday, those of us not working went to Mac. Grill for dinner. We got to hang out with Amanda, who served us, and see Eli from afar, as he worked the expo position, calling food orders and putting together plates to be delivered to tables. Eli no longer works there regularly (He teaches 5th grade), but he agreed to work Thanksgiving, and now they've convinced him to come back and work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day also.
...which means, once again, we get to move the day. I believe we will do our Christmas Eve traditions the night of the 25th, once everyone is back from work; our full-on Christmas celebration will be all day on the 26th!
Perfect.
What will I do during the day on the 25th? Chill. Go to a movie. Probably eat and hang out at Mac. Grill with Eli and Amanda.
Moving the day is as natural as breathing. I've been doing it all my life. How about you? Do you ever move the day?
In my adult life, no one in my immediate family is a first responder, but Gerald worked many years for newspapers that published 365 days a year. Once again, we moved holidays to when we could all be together.
For the past 10 years, we've had kids working at Macaroni Grill, and yes, it's open all the major holidays, including Christmas. So yes, we continue to move the day in order to celebrate with everyone.
This has always been my "normal." I'm often surprised to hear about families that always celebrate Christmas on Dec. 25th or Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday in November. Like every year? Really? What if someone can't come?
That said, not everyone likes the idea of moving the day. Seth, for example, is not a fan. Here's a post about that from four years ago. But I'm guessing once he comes home after two Christmases without his family, he'll be thrilled to celebrate on whatever day works.
This year, Gerald, Amanda, and Eli all worked on Thanksgiving. Our solution was to prepare and eat the Thanksgiving feast the Sunday prior, and then to go to Mac. Grill for dinner on the "real" day. It worked great! That Sunday we feasted on the traditional roast turkey, stuffing, smashed potatoes and gravy, glazed carrots, and deviled eggs. For dessert, both pumpkin and chocolate pies and my own personal chocolate-dipped pecan tart. Everything was delicious. Isaiah flew home just in time for dinner, so aside from Luke, who lives in Maryland, and Seth, who is all the way in Paraguay (sigh!), we were all here.
Thursday, those of us not working went to Mac. Grill for dinner. We got to hang out with Amanda, who served us, and see Eli from afar, as he worked the expo position, calling food orders and putting together plates to be delivered to tables. Eli no longer works there regularly (He teaches 5th grade), but he agreed to work Thanksgiving, and now they've convinced him to come back and work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day also.
...which means, once again, we get to move the day. I believe we will do our Christmas Eve traditions the night of the 25th, once everyone is back from work; our full-on Christmas celebration will be all day on the 26th!
Perfect.
What will I do during the day on the 25th? Chill. Go to a movie. Probably eat and hang out at Mac. Grill with Eli and Amanda.
Moving the day is as natural as breathing. I've been doing it all my life. How about you? Do you ever move the day?
Monday, November 25, 2019
"Ask, and it shall be given you..."
This verse from Matthew 7:7 took on new meaning to Amanda and me yesterday.
Backstory. Our family celebrated the first half of Thanksgiving yesterday, with a huge feast of turkey, stuffing, smashed potatoes, glazed carrots, rolls, and pie. The second half of our celebration will be Thursday, when we go to Macaroni Grill to eat and watch Amanda and Eli work. Thanksgiving is a big money day for Amanda, and somehow they convinced Eli to expo for them that day as well.
Confession. Because I had a crap load of cooking to do in order to prepare this feast, I decided to dip out of relief society and go home right after Sacrament Meeting. (Honestly, I never do this, but desperate times and all.) So I asked Amanda if she wanted to go home with me, and she was all in. But just before we left, we both lamented on how much we wished we could attend Elders' Quorum, so we could see Eli teach:
Me: Dang, I just wish we could go watch Eli. It looks like he prepared a great lesson. I just want to see him teach.
Amanda: Me too! Maybe next time we could dress up as men.
Me: Do you think anyone would notice?
Amanda: I'm sure no one would.
Me: It's a plan then.
Irony. So we left right after the meeting and headed home. Amanda went straight downstairs to change clothes, and I went straight to the oven to baste the turkey. Hourly basting is what makes it juicy, after all. Not 10 seconds later, she was back up the stairs, half dressed, to report that Eli just called her. The Relief Society teacher didn't show up, so they invited all the women to attend Elders' Quorum. My first thought....why didn't they just ask me to teach? I'd be happy to teach, even last minute. My second thought (and Amanda's).... we need to race right back there. And so we did.
Conclusion. As I said in my last post, you can't make this stuff up. We asked. And it was given us. We got to see Eli teach a wonderful lesson on how our word should be our bond, from a conference talk by Elder Ronald A. Rasband. Eli did such a lovely job, with a huge class! I was one proud mama.
Moral. Ask, and it shall be given you. (And maybe don't leave church early.)
Backstory. Our family celebrated the first half of Thanksgiving yesterday, with a huge feast of turkey, stuffing, smashed potatoes, glazed carrots, rolls, and pie. The second half of our celebration will be Thursday, when we go to Macaroni Grill to eat and watch Amanda and Eli work. Thanksgiving is a big money day for Amanda, and somehow they convinced Eli to expo for them that day as well.
Confession. Because I had a crap load of cooking to do in order to prepare this feast, I decided to dip out of relief society and go home right after Sacrament Meeting. (Honestly, I never do this, but desperate times and all.) So I asked Amanda if she wanted to go home with me, and she was all in. But just before we left, we both lamented on how much we wished we could attend Elders' Quorum, so we could see Eli teach:
Me: Dang, I just wish we could go watch Eli. It looks like he prepared a great lesson. I just want to see him teach.
Amanda: Me too! Maybe next time we could dress up as men.
Me: Do you think anyone would notice?
Amanda: I'm sure no one would.
Me: It's a plan then.
Irony. So we left right after the meeting and headed home. Amanda went straight downstairs to change clothes, and I went straight to the oven to baste the turkey. Hourly basting is what makes it juicy, after all. Not 10 seconds later, she was back up the stairs, half dressed, to report that Eli just called her. The Relief Society teacher didn't show up, so they invited all the women to attend Elders' Quorum. My first thought....why didn't they just ask me to teach? I'd be happy to teach, even last minute. My second thought (and Amanda's).... we need to race right back there. And so we did.
Conclusion. As I said in my last post, you can't make this stuff up. We asked. And it was given us. We got to see Eli teach a wonderful lesson on how our word should be our bond, from a conference talk by Elder Ronald A. Rasband. Eli did such a lovely job, with a huge class! I was one proud mama.
Moral. Ask, and it shall be given you. (And maybe don't leave church early.)
Friday, November 22, 2019
The Christmas Letter: Cool or annoying?
Do you send out a Christmas letter? Or just a card? Or nothing? Or does it depend on the year? Do you have a strong opinion on the subject? As I began the process of crafting this year's greeting from the Erichsen-Websters, I pondered these questions. And the memories came.
Growing up, my grandma received many, many Christmas cards and letters. My grandpa was the president of the International Woodworkers of America, a labor union that spanned the U.S. and Canada, and in that role, he met many famous people, especially political figures. The two of them attended presidential inaugurations and the inaugural balls for both Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, and my grandpa knew many senators, congressmen, and governors personally. As a result, they received a crap load of Christmas cards, and even after he passed away, she continued to receive these for the 20 years she outlived him.
One in particular came from a lady named Maude Ballard. Her husband, Claude (yep, Maude and Claude; you can't make this stuff up) worked with my grandpa at the IWA, so they were all close friends. But Maude's Christmas letter!! Oh. My. Goodness.
First, it was between five and seven seven pages long, single spaced. Need I say more?
Okay, I'll say more. Second, every year, the letter included a detailed report of their health. From a little sniffle to annoying hemorrhoids to (eventually) Claude's dementia, it was all there, raw and real. Page after page, paragraph after paragraph, we learned every single minutiae of their medical history for the year.
And it was so funny. At least to a little kid. It became tradition for my grandma, my mom, and me to gather as soon as possible after the letter arrived. Grandma would call us to report: "The Maude Ballard letter is here!" I had the honor of reading it aloud to the two of them as we sat in Grandma's bedroom, and we'd laugh to the point of crying. It would take at least an hour to get through it because of the many pauses for hysterical, belly-busting laughter.
I remember thinking to myself, "When I grow up, I'll send out a Christmas letter, but it won't be this long, and it definitely won't be this embarrassing!"
Then I grew up. And kept that promise.
I have sent out a Christmas greeting with some sort of letter every year since Gerald and I were married. In the early days, before word processing was a thing, I typed it on an electric typewriter. Much harder to revise, these letters were mostly reports of our year, what the kids were up to, and our lives as parents. As time progressed, I grew more creative. With the advent of modern technology, revision became pleasure rather than punishment, and playing with the Christmas letter became my passion.
I can't begin to remember all the different formats I've used, and I worry that one year I'll run out of new ideas, but you can breathe. I've already drafted the 2019 letter, so we're okay this time around.
My very favorite one was in 2014, when I rewrote the poem "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" with the story of our year. Remember? Would you like to see it again? Here it is!
Some people have strong feelings about Christmas letters, both pro and con. I've heard comments such as "I detest those stupid letters. They're just an excuse to brag about your kids." But then I've also heard, "What I hate most is when people just send a dumb card, with 'Merry Christmas' and their names and no other information. What a waste of postage."
Haha. I guess you can't please all the people...
As for me, I'll continue to send a Christmas letter each year. Some traditions can't be broken. My thanks to Maude Ballard and my grandma, who are partyin' hard in heaven. I wonder if Maude still writes those five-page letters. And if Grandma still reads them.
Growing up, my grandma received many, many Christmas cards and letters. My grandpa was the president of the International Woodworkers of America, a labor union that spanned the U.S. and Canada, and in that role, he met many famous people, especially political figures. The two of them attended presidential inaugurations and the inaugural balls for both Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, and my grandpa knew many senators, congressmen, and governors personally. As a result, they received a crap load of Christmas cards, and even after he passed away, she continued to receive these for the 20 years she outlived him.
One in particular came from a lady named Maude Ballard. Her husband, Claude (yep, Maude and Claude; you can't make this stuff up) worked with my grandpa at the IWA, so they were all close friends. But Maude's Christmas letter!! Oh. My. Goodness.
First, it was between five and seven seven pages long, single spaced. Need I say more?
Okay, I'll say more. Second, every year, the letter included a detailed report of their health. From a little sniffle to annoying hemorrhoids to (eventually) Claude's dementia, it was all there, raw and real. Page after page, paragraph after paragraph, we learned every single minutiae of their medical history for the year.
And it was so funny. At least to a little kid. It became tradition for my grandma, my mom, and me to gather as soon as possible after the letter arrived. Grandma would call us to report: "The Maude Ballard letter is here!" I had the honor of reading it aloud to the two of them as we sat in Grandma's bedroom, and we'd laugh to the point of crying. It would take at least an hour to get through it because of the many pauses for hysterical, belly-busting laughter.
I remember thinking to myself, "When I grow up, I'll send out a Christmas letter, but it won't be this long, and it definitely won't be this embarrassing!"
Then I grew up. And kept that promise.
I have sent out a Christmas greeting with some sort of letter every year since Gerald and I were married. In the early days, before word processing was a thing, I typed it on an electric typewriter. Much harder to revise, these letters were mostly reports of our year, what the kids were up to, and our lives as parents. As time progressed, I grew more creative. With the advent of modern technology, revision became pleasure rather than punishment, and playing with the Christmas letter became my passion.
I can't begin to remember all the different formats I've used, and I worry that one year I'll run out of new ideas, but you can breathe. I've already drafted the 2019 letter, so we're okay this time around.
My very favorite one was in 2014, when I rewrote the poem "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" with the story of our year. Remember? Would you like to see it again? Here it is!
Some people have strong feelings about Christmas letters, both pro and con. I've heard comments such as "I detest those stupid letters. They're just an excuse to brag about your kids." But then I've also heard, "What I hate most is when people just send a dumb card, with 'Merry Christmas' and their names and no other information. What a waste of postage."
Haha. I guess you can't please all the people...
As for me, I'll continue to send a Christmas letter each year. Some traditions can't be broken. My thanks to Maude Ballard and my grandma, who are partyin' hard in heaven. I wonder if Maude still writes those five-page letters. And if Grandma still reads them.
Tuesday, November 12, 2019
Wear a cardigan for Fred
Once upon at time, four times each day, I set up a nebulizer machine in order to give our oldest son, Luke, his breathing treatments. Luke had severe childhood asthma, beginning when he was only a couple months old and lasting through elementary school. When he was a little baby, we would turn on the machine, hold the device in our hand, and spray the mist in his face, hoping at least some of that good medicine would make it into his tiny lungs. But once he was old enough to reason with (Can you ever truly reason with a toddler?), we set him up in a little red chair and put a mask over his face to administer the treatments. It took 30-40 minutes to finish a treatment, and we needed Luke to sit still with the mask, connected to the nebulizer machine, over his nose and mouth.
This was no easy task for a toddler, even one as docile and cooperative as Luke. The only way we were able to accomplish it with consistent success (read: the only way to keep our child breathing) was to turn on his favorite TV show, Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. Back then, there wasn't instant access to TV shows like there is today; we used our VCR to record one episode after another onto several tapes, so we could just pop one in for every breathing treatment. Of course Luke had his favorites, so oftentimes we had to search (fast forward, then rewind, then fast forward again) to find "Windstorm in Bubbleland," an opera sung by characters in the neighborhood, in which a windstorm threatens to destroy all the bubbles. As always with the show, there is a moral, a principle founded on love and concern for others. In this case, we learned that by working together, we can overcome even the hardest obstacles.
Do I love Mister Rogers? Oh yes I do! He helped me keep my precious little boy breathing.
...and that would be quite enough all by itself, but more than that, he taught Luke (and all of us) valuable lessons about what it means to be human. He tackled scary topics like death and divorce and windstorms in ways children could comprehend. He helped them feel safe, even in uncertain circumstances, even when a little kid with asthma had to sit still for breathing treatments four times a day.
The characters in the "neighborhood" weren't perfect. They displayed the gamut of human emotion, even though only a few of them were actually human (most were puppets). They got angry. They felt sad. They were lonely sometimes. Like all of us, they has strengths and weaknesses, good days and not so good. King Friday XIII was arrogant and often rude, but also kind and good at his core. Lady Elaine Fairchilde was brash and sometimes offensive, but on the inside, just as insecure as all the rest of us. Daniel Tiger was scared of everything (!) but learned to be brave when he needed to be.
Through story and song and puppetry, Mister Rogers taught us about what really matters--each other. He showed us our worth as human souls and asked us to act accordingly. He showed us how to love each other with the pure love of Christ. No, the show was not overtly religious, even though Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister. But it taught the gospel right there; oh yes it did!
One time, during one of Luke's many hospital stays, I climbed up into his big metal crib, sat under the oxygen tent, held him in my lap, and together we watched Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. It gave me hope through one of the most challenging periods of my life.
Tomorrow is being dubbed "World Kindness Day" or "Mister Rogers Cardigan Day." People are encouraged to wear a cardigan in honor of Fred Rogers, and to spread kindness. I don't really wear cardigans much, but I dug this one out and will proudly wear it tomorrow.
For now, that will be my tribute to a man whose vision and talent impacted the world. And my small life.
But one day! One day in heaven, I will thank him personally for the peace he offered to one scared mama and one sick little boy.
I will wear a cardigan for Fred.
This was no easy task for a toddler, even one as docile and cooperative as Luke. The only way we were able to accomplish it with consistent success (read: the only way to keep our child breathing) was to turn on his favorite TV show, Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. Back then, there wasn't instant access to TV shows like there is today; we used our VCR to record one episode after another onto several tapes, so we could just pop one in for every breathing treatment. Of course Luke had his favorites, so oftentimes we had to search (fast forward, then rewind, then fast forward again) to find "Windstorm in Bubbleland," an opera sung by characters in the neighborhood, in which a windstorm threatens to destroy all the bubbles. As always with the show, there is a moral, a principle founded on love and concern for others. In this case, we learned that by working together, we can overcome even the hardest obstacles.
Do I love Mister Rogers? Oh yes I do! He helped me keep my precious little boy breathing.
...and that would be quite enough all by itself, but more than that, he taught Luke (and all of us) valuable lessons about what it means to be human. He tackled scary topics like death and divorce and windstorms in ways children could comprehend. He helped them feel safe, even in uncertain circumstances, even when a little kid with asthma had to sit still for breathing treatments four times a day.
The characters in the "neighborhood" weren't perfect. They displayed the gamut of human emotion, even though only a few of them were actually human (most were puppets). They got angry. They felt sad. They were lonely sometimes. Like all of us, they has strengths and weaknesses, good days and not so good. King Friday XIII was arrogant and often rude, but also kind and good at his core. Lady Elaine Fairchilde was brash and sometimes offensive, but on the inside, just as insecure as all the rest of us. Daniel Tiger was scared of everything (!) but learned to be brave when he needed to be.
Through story and song and puppetry, Mister Rogers taught us about what really matters--each other. He showed us our worth as human souls and asked us to act accordingly. He showed us how to love each other with the pure love of Christ. No, the show was not overtly religious, even though Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister. But it taught the gospel right there; oh yes it did!
One time, during one of Luke's many hospital stays, I climbed up into his big metal crib, sat under the oxygen tent, held him in my lap, and together we watched Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. It gave me hope through one of the most challenging periods of my life.
Tomorrow is being dubbed "World Kindness Day" or "Mister Rogers Cardigan Day." People are encouraged to wear a cardigan in honor of Fred Rogers, and to spread kindness. I don't really wear cardigans much, but I dug this one out and will proudly wear it tomorrow.
For now, that will be my tribute to a man whose vision and talent impacted the world. And my small life.
But one day! One day in heaven, I will thank him personally for the peace he offered to one scared mama and one sick little boy.
I will wear a cardigan for Fred.
Saturday, November 9, 2019
The Boys in the Middle
When you have five kids, there's always someone to worry about. In the middle of a dark, scary night, I've been known to say "Moms with anxiety this bad should not have five children!"
I never really mean that. I'm so grateful I was blessed with five, but yes, I do spend quite a lot of time worrying about them.
That said, I spend even more time being proud of them, and today, I'm especially proud of the two in the middle. I've found that in large families (Does a family of seven qualify as large??), kids tend to be grouped, usually by age, into categories with names. Our family is no exception. Until Seth was born, we had two groups: "The Big Kids" and "The Little Boys." Luke and Shulamith were the "big kids," and Isaiah and Eli were the "little boys." When Seth was born, that changed slightly. We suddenly had three groups: The Big Kids, The Middle Boys, and Seth.
And so it is, still today.
Those "middle boys" have awed me recently with their effort, skill, and dedication to their respective jobs, so this proud mama needs to brag just a little.
First, Isaiah. His team of software engineers had a competition last week, a "hack-a-thon." They divided into five teams, each with a team leader, whose responsibility it was to come up with an original coding idea and then guide his team to write it in just three days. Isaiah was the leader of his team. I knew something was up because suddenly, he was going to work at 7:00 in the morning and not coming home until after 6:00. On the final day, he came home and told me what was going on, and guess what? His team won first place! The prize, a $100 Amazon gift card for each member of his team, but in his words, "It's really just the bragging rights. Respect." Go, Isaiah!
Then, Eli. As many of you know, he started his first teaching job this fall, at Park Lane Elementary School in Sandy. Fifth graders can be challenging to manage, so Eli works the greatest share of every Saturday doing his prep work for the upcoming week, so he's fully prepared and can focus on management when he's in the classroom. It hasn't been an easy start, but he is making such great progress, and the kids are responding. Last week, he and Amanda and I went to a student council fundraiser dinner at Zupa's, and my heart might have broken just a little as I heard so many children's voices shouting, "Hi Mr. Webster!"
I have five wonderful children, and I also have an anxiety disorder, so I can't even begin to calculate the hours I've wasted worrying about these people when they are perfectly fine. But I'm so proud of each of them.
...and this week, I'm especially proud of my "little boys," turned "middle boys," who have grown into such hardworking, responsible, caring young men.
I never really mean that. I'm so grateful I was blessed with five, but yes, I do spend quite a lot of time worrying about them.
That said, I spend even more time being proud of them, and today, I'm especially proud of the two in the middle. I've found that in large families (Does a family of seven qualify as large??), kids tend to be grouped, usually by age, into categories with names. Our family is no exception. Until Seth was born, we had two groups: "The Big Kids" and "The Little Boys." Luke and Shulamith were the "big kids," and Isaiah and Eli were the "little boys." When Seth was born, that changed slightly. We suddenly had three groups: The Big Kids, The Middle Boys, and Seth.
And so it is, still today.
Those "middle boys" have awed me recently with their effort, skill, and dedication to their respective jobs, so this proud mama needs to brag just a little.
First, Isaiah. His team of software engineers had a competition last week, a "hack-a-thon." They divided into five teams, each with a team leader, whose responsibility it was to come up with an original coding idea and then guide his team to write it in just three days. Isaiah was the leader of his team. I knew something was up because suddenly, he was going to work at 7:00 in the morning and not coming home until after 6:00. On the final day, he came home and told me what was going on, and guess what? His team won first place! The prize, a $100 Amazon gift card for each member of his team, but in his words, "It's really just the bragging rights. Respect." Go, Isaiah!
Then, Eli. As many of you know, he started his first teaching job this fall, at Park Lane Elementary School in Sandy. Fifth graders can be challenging to manage, so Eli works the greatest share of every Saturday doing his prep work for the upcoming week, so he's fully prepared and can focus on management when he's in the classroom. It hasn't been an easy start, but he is making such great progress, and the kids are responding. Last week, he and Amanda and I went to a student council fundraiser dinner at Zupa's, and my heart might have broken just a little as I heard so many children's voices shouting, "Hi Mr. Webster!"
I have five wonderful children, and I also have an anxiety disorder, so I can't even begin to calculate the hours I've wasted worrying about these people when they are perfectly fine. But I'm so proud of each of them.
...and this week, I'm especially proud of my "little boys," turned "middle boys," who have grown into such hardworking, responsible, caring young men.
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