Waiting

Christmas is the season of anticipation, whatever your persuasion. You could be cranky, like Garrison Keillor, railing against Unitarians and Jews as killers of Christmas, but still looking forward to singing the old carols. You could be beside yourself with anticipation, like a six year old who still clings to Santa Claus as the bringer of all good things. You could be old and disinclined to celebrate, but awaiting a visit from your son and his wonderful wife on Christmas Day. You could be a secular Jew who looks forward to the eggnog and fireplace and celebratory atmosphere. You could be a homeless person who hopes to find a good meal for a change at the Union Gospel Mission.

Or you could be me, waiting for Joe College to return safely from India so that we can all decorate the tree, fight about the distribution of the ornaments, and fulfill the old family tradition of going to the movies on Christmas day. Can't wait.

Christmas letter 2008

The year is turning and each goes by faster than the last. That's the benefit and the hazard of growing older -- you don't get bored, but you can feel time slipping away. Joe High School is applying to college -- it seems like only yesterday he was in his stroller, shaking his rattle at candidate Bill Clinton's wife Hillary.

As for the other Joes, Joe College is plugging away at the University of Minnesota and living at home. He has taken up home brewing, and our basement is now Newcastle West. Joe College Grad is still living in LA, working in business and figuring out what comes next.

Like so many Americans, I have once again changed jobs. In July I abandoned the lawyers for a similar web writing position at a private career college. Who knew that such places existed? It's been an eye-opener, and a rather uplifting one.

OLGS continues to teach, commute to Wisconsin and get in some European travel. This past summer he went to eastern Europe and along the way took a crash course in Hungarian, an ancestral language. He's going back this summer.

My parents are elderly, but still living independently and fighting the good fight. My dad now has not only seen the Red Sox win the World Series in his lifetime, but also had the profound pleasure of voting out the Current Occupant. It was an amazing election, one that gave me hope for us as a country. Of course, it was also a testament to the power of money in US politics. One can't have everything....

Christmas letters should be short and sweet, so domtran wishes you a 2009 filled with challenging experiences, interesting people and good books.

Christmas letter

I enjoy getting Christmas letters from friends and family. It's fun to hear from people you don't see very frequently, and be reminded about why you like them. However, many of the letters I receive are filled with lengthy descriptions about children's sporting, academic, and artistic accomplishments. All interesting, but maybe too much information for my already overwhelmed little brain.

The gold standard in Christmas letters was established by my dad's stepfather, Ray W. Tobey. A schoolmaster from darkest Maine, Ray was a curmudgeonly Yankee who somehow got himself appointed to teach the offspring of the famous and monied in Connecticut. His Christmas letters were models of economy, elegance, and, if you had a really strong microscope, humor. Usually no more than one or two short paragraphs, the letters mentioned in passing his limited travels, visits from his wife's children and granchildren, and the natural world around his 19th century farmhouse. The letters were printed, without typos, on glossy paper from a local job printer, and always included a small black and white photo of the farm, the huge pine tree, or some other local landmark. That was it.

Ray is long gone, as is the pine tree. But I unconsciously compare every Christmas letter I receive to those he sent. And is that a bad legacy? As we say in Minnesota, it could be worse...