A Fifty-Year-Old Writes to Santa Claus
Dear Santa:
Hi! How are you! I’m doing better this year. I know I didn’t give you a chance to ask, but I thought I’d volunteer that information anyway.
You may be wondering why I’m writing to you this year. Well, it’s like this: a few weeks ago I was helping my Mom sort through some boxes filled with old correspondence, when I happened to find a note I wrote to you when I was four years old. Actually, I didn’t write it all by myself. I had some help from my Mom.
My part of the letter looked like a series of squiggly lines that would give my cardiologist apoplexy if he saw similar lines on my electrocardiogram. Do you remember this letter? Probably not, but that’s okay if you don’t. It’s also okay if you say you do remember when actually you don’t. I understand. Your talent for diplomacy has been unmatched for centuries.
My mom translated my scribblings and wrote her “translation” on the back of the letter. Now I must say this before we go any further: I love my Mom dearly. She was a great cook (as my expanding tummy could attest), and always provided everything I could ever want for (and then some) while I was growing up. However, now that I’ve read this letter, I see that translating the doodles of a four year old child was not her greatest strength.
Well, to be fair, my writing probably put her shorthand training to the test. In any case, now that I have “rediscovered” the earliest example of my writing, I feel an update is in order. So please disregard my previous missive dated December 9, 1963. I believe it was slightly inaccurate in a few places, but I don’t blame my Mom.
Allegedly I wrote, ‘I have been a good boy most of the time this year’. Okay, I can’t really argue this point since I don’t have any actual memories from that year. I remember sitting too close to our Admiral 20 inch black-and-white television when Sally Starr was on every morning. Otherwise, I kept to myself and didn’t bother anyone...very much, I think. Okay, I couldn’t have been good all the time; after all no one is perfect. On this point, please give me the benefit of the doubt.
Then I wrote, ‘I don’t always take my nap when I should’. This is the part I want to dispute. Mom probably thought she was being clever when she had me 'fess up to this transgression. There again, I don’t have any actual memories of giving my mom an argument when she wanted me to rest. However, I do know that this is one area of my life in which I have definitely gotten better.
I have no trouble at all taking naps now. No one has to tell me to lie down now, although Anne Marie will sometimes be helpful in this respect. Naps happen to me quite naturally now. I can stretch out for a cat nap with my cat, Steven, and not have a pang of guilt about it.
Sometimes I’ll get too tired to go up to bed, and I’ll have to take a nap before I can climb the stairs to my bedroom. I know that sounds pathetic, but it’s true! I believe this fact alone qualifies me for some sort of advanced educational degree in sleeping. As of yet, I have not found an institution of higher learning that offers such a degree, but I’m sure it’ll happen eventually.
Then my letter went to ask for gifts for my parents. Dad wanted the “Password” home game, which you did bring to him. Then I asked for various toys for my cousins. I guess they got them, but if you haven’t brought them by now, forget about it. I think they are way past the age caring about dollies and fire trucks.
As for myself, I can’t think of anything I want this year that will really make my life any easier or productive. I am content with my life in general. All I will ask for is that you have a safe trip on Christmas Eve and return home in one piece. And oh, if you feel like your energy is draining, just pull your sleigh off to one side of the Milky Way and catch a few winks. I won’t tell! I know how it is, because I’m older now too.
Merry Christmas! RTG
(Thank you for reading! Please remember that the password is “zzzzzz...”)
Hi! How are you! I’m doing better this year. I know I didn’t give you a chance to ask, but I thought I’d volunteer that information anyway.
You may be wondering why I’m writing to you this year. Well, it’s like this: a few weeks ago I was helping my Mom sort through some boxes filled with old correspondence, when I happened to find a note I wrote to you when I was four years old. Actually, I didn’t write it all by myself. I had some help from my Mom.
My part of the letter looked like a series of squiggly lines that would give my cardiologist apoplexy if he saw similar lines on my electrocardiogram. Do you remember this letter? Probably not, but that’s okay if you don’t. It’s also okay if you say you do remember when actually you don’t. I understand. Your talent for diplomacy has been unmatched for centuries.
My mom translated my scribblings and wrote her “translation” on the back of the letter. Now I must say this before we go any further: I love my Mom dearly. She was a great cook (as my expanding tummy could attest), and always provided everything I could ever want for (and then some) while I was growing up. However, now that I’ve read this letter, I see that translating the doodles of a four year old child was not her greatest strength.
Well, to be fair, my writing probably put her shorthand training to the test. In any case, now that I have “rediscovered” the earliest example of my writing, I feel an update is in order. So please disregard my previous missive dated December 9, 1963. I believe it was slightly inaccurate in a few places, but I don’t blame my Mom.
Allegedly I wrote, ‘I have been a good boy most of the time this year’. Okay, I can’t really argue this point since I don’t have any actual memories from that year. I remember sitting too close to our Admiral 20 inch black-and-white television when Sally Starr was on every morning. Otherwise, I kept to myself and didn’t bother anyone...very much, I think. Okay, I couldn’t have been good all the time; after all no one is perfect. On this point, please give me the benefit of the doubt.
Then I wrote, ‘I don’t always take my nap when I should’. This is the part I want to dispute. Mom probably thought she was being clever when she had me 'fess up to this transgression. There again, I don’t have any actual memories of giving my mom an argument when she wanted me to rest. However, I do know that this is one area of my life in which I have definitely gotten better.
I have no trouble at all taking naps now. No one has to tell me to lie down now, although Anne Marie will sometimes be helpful in this respect. Naps happen to me quite naturally now. I can stretch out for a cat nap with my cat, Steven, and not have a pang of guilt about it.
Sometimes I’ll get too tired to go up to bed, and I’ll have to take a nap before I can climb the stairs to my bedroom. I know that sounds pathetic, but it’s true! I believe this fact alone qualifies me for some sort of advanced educational degree in sleeping. As of yet, I have not found an institution of higher learning that offers such a degree, but I’m sure it’ll happen eventually.
Then my letter went to ask for gifts for my parents. Dad wanted the “Password” home game, which you did bring to him. Then I asked for various toys for my cousins. I guess they got them, but if you haven’t brought them by now, forget about it. I think they are way past the age caring about dollies and fire trucks.
As for myself, I can’t think of anything I want this year that will really make my life any easier or productive. I am content with my life in general. All I will ask for is that you have a safe trip on Christmas Eve and return home in one piece. And oh, if you feel like your energy is draining, just pull your sleigh off to one side of the Milky Way and catch a few winks. I won’t tell! I know how it is, because I’m older now too.
Merry Christmas! RTG
(Thank you for reading! Please remember that the password is “zzzzzz...”)
posted by todd gunther | 5:55 AM
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