WE ALL GET THEM at
Although I look forward to catching up with friends this way, and have even considered sending out a letter of my own, there's something just a little too precious and self-congratulatory about the most extreme of these Christmas letters.
To make that point, and have a little fun with this holiday tradition, I decided to write the kind
Or, for that matter, send out.
Dear Friends,So much has happened since our last endless missive, it's hard to know just where to start.
But because the law just hauled our Jimbo off to the hoosegow, that's probably a good place to begin.
We'd been telling Jimbo for years he ought to be a little more careful with those tall, leafy plants out behind the house. But he'd just grin and mumble something about keeping up with demand.
It'll be sad not having him at the table Christmas Day, but Mother and I were glad to learn we can take him a carton of cigarettes and some chocolate Santas during jail visiting hours between noon and 2.
Little Suzie has gotten better news, with her modeling career really taking off.
Yes, it was tough to pay that agency $50,000 for just one session with a photographer and posing coach, but we just know it's going to bring big things for her in the new year.
Already, it helped her earn a hostess gig at Moe's Wings and Things on Tuesday nights.
And since Tuesday night is their hot wings special, with free pitchers and three free bowls of dipping sauce, it's another chance for our precious Suzie to get more exposure.
So what if the outfit she has to wear isn't much bigger than a chicken wing?
The nice people at the Fly By Night Modeling Agency tell us that any kind of exposure is just that, exposure.
We just know that exposing our Suzie to the world is the key to landing her that instant ticket to stardom, a spot on "Survivor: Hoboken."
There's not much to mention about out third child, Jimmy, other than to say that he's made the dean's list again at Dartmouth.
Books, books, books. Study, study, study. Scholarship, schmolarship.
We just hope that some day he'll step out of the library and finally do something worthy of making the Christmas letter.
Using that brain to invent something useful, like that Ron Popeil fellow and his food slicer, his pocket fisherman, all that.
Mama's got big news for the year, having taken a new career path herself.
Tired of waiting for a promotion at the Piggly Wiggly, she's going into a new field, becoming a professional bingo player.
Sure, it's taking her lungs awhile to get used to the cloud
But she's getting used to that, and to playing 15 cards at a time.
Sure, it's cut down on her holiday baking. But with all that money she's bringing in, we'll be up to our elbows in Twinkies and Ho Hos in no time.
While change is in the air for them, I'm sticking with the tried and true, continuing my life's work as a hand and foot model.
Sure, I found out this year I was allergic to fur linings, which has cut into my glove work, and to cashmere, which has stung my successful swing through socks.
But as long as fuzzy slippers and mood rings fill the pages of specialty catalogues, I'll have work aplenty.
Surely enough to keep a little something extra in the eggnog.
For the first time in a decade, we won't be making our annual holiday pilgrimage westward to the world's largest ball of string.
Our traditional spot has been shut down because of terrorism concerns about the string falling into the wrong hands.
They may worry about crazed squads of yo-yo-toting terrorists, but all we see is one blue Christmas here at home.
Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas anyway.
The Holiday Hedelts
To reach ROB HEDELT:
Email: rhedelt@freelancestar.com