Christmas Is Over . . . You Can Come Out NowThe holidays are over. You can tell this because your garage now houses enough discarded plastic packaging to set the environmental movement back ten years, you've worn a hole in your ATM card, and if you hear one more "Pa rum pum pum pum" someone's going to get hurt.
Cool it kid!
But what really signals the end of the holiday season is now you can open your mailbox without being greeted by the beaming faces of your distant relatives as they blow holiday kisses from atop sunny ski slopes or hurl holiday alohas from the happy, happy shores of Hawaii.
“Gosh I sure am having a lot more fun than you are!” Gone are the mass mailings bearing more good news than a lottery winner's letter home. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy about all this good news. It's just that when Claudia wrote in her annual Christmas letter that the highlight of their family's year was when little Davey, age five, mastered the trapeze during their two-week vacation at Club Med in Ixtapa, well, it tended to make our family's big news -- finally solving the missing hamster mystery when we installed that new dishwasher last spring -- seem rather pale. 
He’s still alive! . . . maybe . . . .
And when Cousin Jen wrote that her little Junior Miss and little Junior Mister were learning Russian and keeping busy with TAG (talented and gifted) activities, it tended to make my kids accomplishments which were learning to move the dog's lips in unison to the Brady Bunch theme song and chewing the erasers off a new package of pencils in 20 seconds flat - seem kind of, well, diminished.
Marsha Marsha Marsha! So when I got the letter from fourth cousins Phil and Fanny telling of the miracle they experienced when their entire family gathered, prayed and pulled Great Grandma Dolly through a close brush with death, it made the episode that happened to our goldfish that summer during overzealous child- goldfish bonding, the result of which was a supernatural recovery just before flushing -- seem less like a miracle and more like just another stupid pet trick.
“. . . so the next thing I know I’m swirling around and around in this big white light . . .” But I suppose I shouldn't get caught up in comparing my life with the lives of others. After all, what would the holidays be if not a time for heartfelt goodwill toward men? This thought was with me when I went to the mailbox today and found a belated Christmas greeting from a friend I haven't heard from in years. After reading about how she and her family had to cut short their tour of Europe so that their twins, Tara and Twelve Oaks, could get ready to attend college this fall on full academic scholarships thanks to home schooling, I was overcome with emotion. 
Tara and Twelve Oaks (or Vice Versa) I sat down immediately and wrote a letter to send to all those who were thoughtful enough to include me on their Christmas letter mailing list. It didn't take long. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. 
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