Shrinking the Camel

Continued from previous post

So here is my year-end anti-self-promoting Generic Holiday Newsletter. It’s chock-full of disappointments, bad news, and frightening developments. I ended up sending this out to a few cynical friends like me, who I knew would appreciate it. But this letter never made it to the address of the culprits who started it all. Maybe next year I’ll be braver.

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December 20, 2008

Dear Friends and Family,

It’s been a long time since we have sent out a Holiday letter. Come to think of it, we’ve never sent you a Holiday letter! Although one year I did write a Holiday letter, just to see how good I could make our family look. We looked pretty good! Okay, it was more like a family resume. Or, it was like I was filling out an application for the family of the year. But I never sent it out, and spared you all from the blatant self-promotion (we really looked good!). So, of course, the lesson I learned is that a generic Christmas/Holiday letter can dilute the entire year into nothing more than a Curriculum Vitae “for your consideration” (hopefully you would be impressed!).

But really, is that what the Christmas Letter has come down to? A way to justify how fantastic my life is? The truth is that I bet most of us would rather read a letter about the struggles and failures that other families are facing, so that we could feel a little bit better about our own situation. Am I right? (“Hey honey – did you read about how terrible the Johnson’s have it? We’re not doing as bad as I thought!”). That’s why we love the tabloids and reality TV and Dr. Phil, because we see the parade of dysfunctional people spouting off about their problems, which makes us believe that our own lives are not so bad after all. It gives us a little perspective! Let’s face it. Life is hard. And every one of us has problems. If you don’t, then maybe you haven’t actually lived through your past year. Why deny it?

So in the spirit of sending an anti-self-promotional newsletter, here are the 2008 highlights from the Moore family:

• Another year, and a new set of ailments to add to our list of “things that go downhill after you turn forty.” It’s getting depressing. This year: heartburn after every meal. I mean, I can’t even eat a friggin’ pancake without my esophagus erupting with these nasty acid outbursts.

  

• OMG, our oldest, Sophie, had her first boyfriend. They broke up after three weeks, but she got her first kiss. I caught them making out while quote unquote watching (yeah, right. Stupid me) Taladega Nights. I am hopeful that she got that boyfriend thing out of her system (yeah right. Stupid me).

  

• I should just say that Sophie turned 15 and leave it at that. Use your imagination.

  

• My precious, darling, cuddly Lilly turned 12 this year, and she doesn’t want to talk to me any more. What’s wrong? What did I do? Please honey! Daddy wants you back!

  

• This year we totally gave up on the girls keeping their rooms clean. We’ve been after them for how many years?? Does it work? I’ll tell you what works, is shutting the bedroom door so I don’t see the mess and never really know how bad it is. Until I smell something when walking past, then I am not going to think about it anymore.

  

• We took the girls skiing, but Beth and I didn’t ski. We were too tired so we stayed in the lodge and “watched.” They had a Starbucks there. And a fireplace. We brought a couple books. Why bother skiing?

 

• Beth has made a new friend: peri-menopause. A peri-menopausal mom and two teen age girls. Yay!

 

• We have totally neglected our outdoor landscaping this year. I don’t have time, and I’m too lazy anyways. The trees and shrubs in the front are out of control. It’s December, and there are still weeds growing in the mulch. I promise to hire someone this Spring to fix it.

 

• Our cockatiel bird was so annoying the we moved his cage from the center of life, the kitchen, to the dark, lonely downstairs basement so that we don’t have to hear his obnoxious squacking all day and continuously clean up after his mess of bird seed shells all over the kitchen floor. It worked. Now we never hear him, and wonder if he’s still alive. Maybe you can check in on him if you happen to visit us.

 

• I probably spent about $700 this year at Starbucks. Yes, the money could have gone to many other worthy causes other than my selfish coffee habit. But when it comes to coffee, I am selfish. That’s all I have to say.

 

• I put over 30,000 miles on my car this past year. I have no idea what I would have been doing that would require me to travel so far, or who I was with. My daily commute is only 25 miles. I think the girls have something to do with this.  At an average of 50 mph, that translates to 600 hours this year in my car. Really, that equals 25 full days – almost a month of straight driving! My life is obviously slipping away before my very eyes…

• I am writing this letter at work, instead of doing actual real work right now. I’ve been at this for… oh, about an hour. Well, it’s the week before Christmas, so it should be a blow-off day anyways. Right? Who cares!

Seriously, we have been truly blessed in so many ways with a wonderful family, two beautiful girls, (relatively) good health, and a life that we thank God for every day. Hope this letter brightens your day and lightens your load a little bit!

Merry Christmas,

Brad, Beth, Sophie and Lilly

(Continued from previous post)

Honestly, the generic Family Holiday Newsletter we received from this particular family looks more like a resume than anything having to do with Christmas or holidays or good cheer. It’s about the yacht club, sailboat racing, jewelry making, the soccer trophies, academic awards, and more career achievements and accolades. It is quite obnoxious. It’s not that I mind reading about the good fortune of my close friends and relatives. What bothers me is the subtle superiority and condescending tone that they take. I want to write a form letter back to them that says,

“Thank you for your application. Unfortunately, we have found another family who was better suited to meet our interests this holiday season. We wish you the best in your future endeavors.”

It baffles me why people have to pretend how great their lives are, like they are in some kind of competition. It’s like my relatives are hoping that everyone will read their letter, judge their lives to be worthy and allow their family to continue on for another year.

I’d rather see a letter that talks about what a tough year they’ve had, right alongside the good news, where they honestly face up to the difficulties of their life and ask for our support and prayers. Because no one is immune from suffering. People may be good at hiding it, but like my mom says, “Everyone Has Problems.” When you dig in a little bit, when you look behind the picture-perfect image, you will inevitably find cracks in the glass.

But the smug authors of this atrocious Christmas letter just can’t stop themselves from promoting a prideful and attention-seeking “Our lives are better than yours” message. They are oblivious, and surely will strike again next year. I’m fuming over their shallow arrogance, their artificial insincerity. I need to do something about this.

I want to teach these people a lesson.

“I’m going to write a letter even worse than theirs, more obnoxious and show-offy, and send it to them!” I say to my wife, Beth. “They think they’ve had a good year? Well they ain’t seen nothing yet. Our Holiday Letter will make them froth with envy. They’ll want to go out and kill themselves after they see our letter.”

“No, don’t do that” says Beth, calmly, sensibly. “You’ll just be stooping to their level.”

“But how else will they ever get the message until they see a letter that is even more ridiculous than theirs? If they want to be so competitive, then let the games begin. We have a lot more achievements than they have.” I begin recounting the various awards, achievements and victories that could fill our letter. I am drunk on the prospects of our Holiday Letter. Beth talks me down.

“It won’t lead to any good. If you’re so upset by it, why don’t you just call them and tell them to take us off their mailing list?”

Speak to them directly? I am offended. I would never dare to be so direct and forthright. Why, that might hurt their feelings! I’d much rather whine about their behavior behind their backs.

The calls start coming in from family members who are also on the mailing list, each one at first feigns a carefree detachment. After a few obligatory preliminaries, it comes out: “Did you see the letter?” they ask, licking their lips, barely able to contain their loathsome delight. “Wasn’t it horrible?” And so this goes on for several days, until we all work it out of our system.

Well, this year, after much prayer and consideration (not really), I finally did something about it. Instead of writing a self-promoting holiday letter proclaiming the greatness of my family’s life, I thought it would be a good idea to do the opposite. Send a letter of the lowlights from our life the year past. You know, just be really genuine about all the annoying, depressing, irritating things that happened over the year. I figure we’re all in the same boat, most of us. Raising kids alone throws a wrench into our peace and free time. Then add a demanding job, financial pressures, family tensions, mood swings, aging, your spouse’s job, health issues, and, well, that to me smells more like a normal family’s life. Kind of an anti-self-promotional Holiday letter.

That will show them.

Click here to continue

Okay folks, this story has nothing to do with business, or spirituality, or faith or Christianity, or any of that. So if you came here today looking for spiritual edification, time to click back over to the Chuck Swindoll or the High Calling site. But, this post is about Christmas! So that might interest you, right? It’ s only a few days away! This is just pure creative writing fun – and maybe you can even relate to it! From me, to you, Merry Christmas! Brad

Each year as Christmas approaches we get a number of Christmas Holiday letters from friends and family. Of course we enjoy reading them, but there is an alarming trend of generic-style family newsletters dramatically on the rise. These impersonal summaries of the mundane accomplishments of the children, grandchildren and pets are now a firmly established tradition, especially among the churched. I don’t know who started it, or why it has caught on so fast, or why these people think the world will be so interested in their lives, but I would wager the generic Christmas Newsletter is here to stay.

In my tribe, there’s one particular family that truly outshines all the other newsletters each and every year — in a bad way. This particular writer pushes the limits, goes over the top, above and beyond your most distasteful imagination. If there were a contest in Parade Magazine for the most obnoxious Christmas Letter in America, this family would be certain to win, hands down. Each year as we anticipate the arrival of the “letter” in question, we assure ourselves that there is simply no possibility of them outdoing their previous atrocity, or that surely this season some level of awareness would dawn on the unwitting writers regarding their poor taste and blatant elitism. Or, we hope that perhaps a gentle but firm suggestion has made its way from some close kin, advising them to tone it down a bit. But, alas, each Christmas season appears a newsletter more vile, more self-promoting and one-upping than the year before.

The saddest part about it is that we know their lives are not as great as their letter makes it appear. Everybody knows. We know about their struggles, the days-at-a-time without getting out of bed depression, the social isolation, and the marital strain. So what? Each of us has our own set of unpleasantries to deal with. Why go so far out of your way to pretend? I can barely imagine what kind of effort it must take them to build a façade of perfection for the outside world to see. Instead of the truth, we read a ravishing story of success, glamour, travel, and accomplishment, replete with photos, and many, many references to career advancements and their child’s outstanding achievements. And I want to hurl.

Each December, without fail, the letter arrives and we go through the same machinations as the last. It sits on the kitchen table unopened, untouched for a few days. We eye the letter from a safe distance, circling and poking at the repulsive envelope as if it were a bloody, mutilated animal the dog drug in from the woods. Speaking in hushed tones, we swear that it’s going in the trash, any minute. But it doesn’t move. After a couple days we then soften up our tone, becoming more convivial and friendly towards That Letter, and we convince ourselves that the writers have repented, that this year is the year they have truly embraced the Christmas spirit with newfound humility and thanksgiving. Perhaps we should give them a chance? The letter sits there and mocks our indecision. Like passengers who can not resist gawking at a drive-by car accident, we ultimately give in to our morbid curiosity, daring to open the envelope and read it, even though it will probably make us sick and bitter.

It never disappoints.

 To be continued in Part 2…