Since Tuesdays are for what we're reading, after a long and exhausting trip, Santa is probably relaxing before a fire, sipping hot chocolate, and hopefully, catching up on his mail.
Dear Santa:
Maybe it's just me, but sometimes it seems that you just don't get it. Sure, all those flannel jammies, DVDs, iPods, sweaters, Wii's, Game Boys, Bratz dolls, bikes, jewelry, power tools and everything else you brought us were great. You're tops at making those kinds of wishes come true. But with all due respect sir, might I suggest a crash course in Gifts That Really Matter? You know, the ones that keep giving. After all, jammies wear out, toys break, Wii's fly off wrists. Well, you get the picture. Call me crazy, but would a little world peace be too much to ask for? And what about hunger? With so much of that going around, you'd think the elves would have spent the past year cooking their little butts off for all the hungry mouths around the world. And what about homes for the homeless? If Habitat For Humanity can do it, so can you. And forever families for all the orphans and foster kids, and the pups and kitties in shelters? And let's not forget love. There's just so much we romance writers can do. You gotta help us out here.
Don't get me wrong. I'm immensely grateful for what you brought me. I am, after all, shamelessly materialistic. Yeah, you've got my number, all right. But come on, big guy. Why not surprise us all next year with something REALLY BIG? Something that will make the front page of every newspaper around the world. Something that will change lives forever. Something that will make this weary world a better place in which to live. I dare you, no I double dare you, to do it. You're a jolly old guy, and you work very hard what with driving those headstrong reindeer all over the place every year and all those slippery roofs and too-narrow chimneys, but we all know who's really calling the shots, so do I have to plead my case to Mrs. Clause?T
hanks for everything. And if you can't manage all of the above, then go for the love. If there's enough of that going around, everything else should follow.
Best regards, Nancy
So, there it is, my letter to Mr. Bowl Full of Jelly, which brings me to the subject of letter writing. Have you written or read any letters lately? I'm not talking about e-mail. I'm talking about honest-to-goodness, old fashioned, hand written letters. In this day of cell phones, roll-over minutes and e-mail, letter writing seems to have become a lost art. I don't know about you but I, for one, miss it. I used to write letters to friends and relatives all over the world, and I still have all their letters they wrote back to me. Maybe the only person who's receiving letters these days is Santa, from all those little kids around the world, and big kids like me. I guess we know what he'll be reading this year. As for Mrs. Clause, I packed up a few good romances and sent them north.
__
3 comments:
I agree with your letter 100%. Let's hope Santa has time, now the holiday is over, to read it and pay attention. And yes, I still write letters. The hard way. Then I look at them and pray the recipient can read them, because my handwriting has gotten almost illegible since I've begun typing everything. I also print out the emails that matter and save them. I hope they're here for my grandkids, the way my grandmother's letters are for me. I hate to think of a nation's entire written history going the way of crashed hard drives.
I've already written my thank you notes--I usually do them on Christmas day so I don't forget--and I then have plenty of time to nag my kids to do theirs! But I have found, like Kate, that I have trouble with handwriting these days. My hand just won't cooperate. I even have trouble signing my name at booksignings. Something about going from an "n" to a "z"--my hand just goes into lock. I do usually remember my name, though, so I give myself points for that.
I don't write letters, but I do make cards I send to people. (Have my Christmas thank you cards nearly made.) I also send handmade cards that are blank inside to troops in Iraq to send back to their family and loved ones. My "assigned" battlion is about to go home (we hope) unfortunately minus some members who didn't make it. Which makes me all too aware that my cards could be the last thing loved ones receive from their solider. Sometimes, when I watch Ken Burns documentaries, or read biographies, I worry that without "real" letters, historians are going to have a much harder time understanding our lives.
As for handwriting, I'm one of those who, when making scrapbook pages for my kid and grandbabies, opts for computerized journaling. Yet, my sweetie loves his mother's scrapbook she made about climbing Mt. Shasta in the 30s. I love it, as well, though the romance writer in me is more intrigued by the shirtless hunk who has his arm around her in all the photos, who is NOT my father-in-law!! But I digress. . . Part of the charm of that book is that the entries were written in her own handwriting. Something I'm going to try to do more of this year.
Oh, and Santa, I'm with Nancy on that peace and love thing, please.
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