Dear Friends,
Typically, the annual exercise in family-to-family communications known as 'The Christmas Letter' is a cheery thing to read. They contain a collection of happy anecdotes about the family's wonderful times, activities, and accomplishments of the preceding year. If that is the sort of letter you are expecting, then look elsewhere among your Christmas cards, because this is not that sort of letter. But if you want the truth about the year that was, then read on and learn more about long series of unfortunate events that befell us in 2004.
The year began in January, as it often does, in which month Chris set out for Dubuque, Iowa to take a 17-degree stroll and knock on doors in support of his chosen candidate for President. As a volunteer, Chris didn't offer the advice to Howard Dean that a rousing cheer would be just the thing to stir his supporters following a disappointing third-place finish. Who knew a 'yee-haw' could bring the campaign to a screeching halt, which in this instance means 'a rapid deceleration and stop'. But it did. On the Genealogy hunt, Chris met his distant Dubuque cousin Beverly (half-first cousin-twice removed, really), and other family members that he arrived too late to meet in person.
In February Jennifer reached the big - four-oh and a gathering was held to mourn her lost youth. A collection was taken to buy her a sewing machine to encourage her quilt making and nudge her even closer to grandmother-hood. Eight years at home came to an end, as she returned to the classroom full-time for the first time since Colleen was born. She's working in a new school teaching first through fifth grade special education students, and once again gets as excited as the kids about snow days.
You don't really want a month-by-month do you? I didn't think so. There was a Convention, Boston/Cape Cod vacation, a friends' wedding, and visits from family. Blah blah blah, the usual stuff. Time to talk about the orphans, I mean our children.
Katie, 14, is an eighth grader and entering a wonderful age of surliness and disobedience of which we expect much more to come. She is an excellent writer who is, she says, "incapable of finishing a story". Presently Katie is scouting high schools with high priority being put on the availability of Japanese instruction so that she can read her manga comic books in their original language.
Will, 12, joined Katie in middle school as a sixth grader. He plays soccer, and was on the All-Star team. They lost. He scored many goals this season, and if you count the near misses then he broke records. But near misses don't count in soccer, dang. Will and the neighborhood boys enjoy building model soldiers for a game called 'Warhammer' in which their soldiers invade, attack and destroy each other. We think soon this may earn him some college credits.
Colleen, 8, is in third grade, plays soccer, and has an amazing savant-like fascination with numbers, time and statistics. From the rear seat of the van, she offers minute-by-minute updates on the current time, and requires precision responses to questions such as, "Are we there yet". After some training counting cards, we will be taking Colleen on a Vegas-vacation. She is still regularly losing teeth for no apparent reason despite frequent brushing.
It was a tragic year on the pet front. Cody, our dog and loyal friend and companion for 15 years ran out of time in August, and we miss him terribly. In the spring, Kitty, the lost cat we adopted last year thanked us by getting knocked up. The joy of kittens quickly changed to the joy of finding hidden kitten loads, and the tears of giving them away to their new owners (tears of sadness from the kids, and of joy from Chris). We kept one of the four, Spaz, and now find ourselves servants in the cats' house, gainfully occupied as doormen letting them in and out as they hiss at each other in passing. Can anyone tell me how long cats live? I predict that in next year's letter we'll be reporting the tragic demise of one or two of them... just a gut feeling I have.
It was a year of defeat on the political front for Chris. Every campaign he was involved with this year went down to defeat, they're starting to call it 'The Casey Touch'. As soon as he perfects his technique and start's his roll down the other side of the Hill, he's likely to start working for Republicans. But not yet. Down, but not out, he has taken a job with NGP Software, a Democratic Technology and Consulting firm where he will be their Director of Online Campaigns. He's especially happy to be commuting to the District again after four years of working at home.
We're sorry for the grim letter, and hope that next year we have better news to report. Nevertheless, we are hopeful that your past year was better, and the year ahead better still.
Merry Christmas, Festivus, Happy New Year, etc...
God Bless (and help) Us Everyone!
Chris, Jenny, Katie, Will, Colleen
Figaro, Kitty & Spaz (the cats)
P.S. OK, so things weren't really as bad as we made them out here. But I was inspired to write an 'unfortunate events' style letter from this glum perspective just for kicks. Most of the year was really pretty great (except the election part, it was worse). One great thing was the spa they inherited from Julie and Jim Platt (many thanks to them), in which we now spend many relaxing hours soaking together. Come and join us for a hot dip sometime in 2005.
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