Observations and Reflections on a Christmas Letter
This letter was written by my mother in 1970 and I have an original copy of it. Why I ended up with it I don’t really know, but I’ve had a knack of collecting items and artifacts over the years without any idea of how and why I might use them someday. Today, one year after the death of my mother, I find myself telling the story of her life, our family’s story and my life. This letter provides not only some insight into what life was like for us in 1970 but also how my mother viewed the family.
Mom was a writer by training and occupation. I’ve not changed a word or punctuation mark of the original-you are reading it as if it was sent to you back in 1970.
Dear
We can’t quite believe it, but two weeks before Christmas we have our shopping done, packages wrapped and tree decorated. We so enjoy our surprising organization, we decided to make sure our cards, too, were mailed before Christmas. Therefore—a mass-produced letter.
1970 has been an interesting year. Don has been president of Des Moines Typographical Union since May of 1969. The union has a full-time sec.-treas., and the president, he was once told, signs checks and presides at meetings. It was apparent from the first month of his term of office that this was a bit understated. Finally, last summer, with three contracts to negotiate, assorted arbitrations and problems to deal with, the union voted that Don take a leave of absence from the Register and Tribune and work full-time for the union for 6 months. Contract negotiations with the Meredith Publishing and the Register and Tribune are going on, and both are a departure from former years. The R&T seemingly has regressed to a level of labor-management relations popular 50 years ago. At this point it is difficult to be optimistic that an honorable contract is possible, but even our horoscopes can’t tell us for sure. Although he has problem upon problem, Don does enjoy the work. Right On!
For two years now I have been with Dial Financial Corp. as a writer-editor, and I’ve enjoyed every minute of the job. Along with two company publications, I have a wide range of writing assignments, most of which include lay-out and typographic design. The major product now is a re-design of a series of training booklets on the company’s new computer system, which I am re-writing and jazzing up for marketing purposes. Most people aren’t turned on by computer systems, but I enjoy trying to make Dial’s understandable.
Shelley is 19, spent a year at college away from home, now works and lives in an apartment, trying to decide what she wants to do. She is a lovely girl and enjoys her independence.
Dan is 18, has registered for the draft unenthusiastically, and will go to Drake University here next fall to study music (draft willing). This vocation has persisted since grade school—we feel he is lucky to be able to make a career of something he enjoys so much. He works at McDonalds as top hamburger chef.
Tony, is 16, is the only person who can fix anything, so he’s very busy. Between his repair jobs he sandwiches in a high school schedule of English, Soc. Studies, 3rd year French, math physics and band. And he works at a neighborhood drug store.
Joe, 15 plays basketball, bowls and watches TV. He probably has perfect pitch, plays the baritone very well. Everyone likes Joe and he is fortunate to have a personality and disposition that are hard to equal. Katie will be 14 Christmas eve. She is at the age we used to deplore (13-14), but we hardly notice any more. She is, like Joe, very adaptable---and very determined. Because of Katie, we have cats—currently tow mammoth yellow cats. They just wander in, Katie hides them in her room and we have them forever.
Tom is 12, a fine student, carries a paper route which he threatens to quit once a week. When we insisted he continue, he reminded us of the child labor laws. Tom can quote them just as well as he can reel off the number and dates of tidal waves in Japan and the latest figures on hog production in Iowa. Jane is 10, a delightful age, but then Janie has always been a very pleasant child. She plays the piano, accomplishes her schoolwork quietly and efficiently and when Tony doesn’t get around to fixing something, she does it.
Jerry is 8 and as the youngest, he tries harder. We get reports from school he always tries to be “first in line.” He is an expert at needling Tom, and with his loud voice can always be heard above the family commotion. (We didn’t ever think we’d hear the SST.) He loves math and does special problems, because he says, “I always finish mine first.”
We celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary in June. I called Don to say I thought we deserved a medal. He replied, “My God, at least a drink!” we have been fortunate in that the children seem to walk down the middle of the road (a position that normally doesn’t appeal to us, but in this context is a relief), and we really don’t experience the generation gap.
From all of us, to all of you
A very happy Christmas and New Year
And Peace!
My thoughts as I read this today (43 years later):
It is probably no accident that my Dad gets the most air time, or that he is the first to be talked about. Today, it seems, most of these holiday letters are all about the children with the parents mentioned at the end, and then briefly, if at all. Dad’s work with the union was evolving and becoming more important. Mom’s work was also important to her but it was taking a back seat to his work and I think she came to resent the stress and focus his work took. The use of the term “right on!” gives some clues to her activist mentality.
Mom’s description of my older sister, Shelley, stands out for the bland and non-descript way that she describes her. Shelley, who I am quite fond of and am very close to, was anything but non-descript. Mom always held Shelley to a different standard than she did her other children. She was overly critical of her and in spite of her feminist inclinations, seemed to have difficulty embracing who Shelley was. In the summer of 1970, Shelley had moved back to Des Moines after a year away at college and moved into an apartment with a friend, choosing to work for a while. You would have thought the world was going to come to an end. And to top it off, she and some of her friends went to a rock festival in NE Iowa known as “Wadena”, Iowa's version of Woodstock, and when Mom and Dad heard about this they threatened to disown her. Now, does that sound liberal or open-minded to you? I suppose what she wrote was the best she could do, but it speaks volumes. To me, it reeks of disappointment and that, even today, makes me sad. Sad because Shelley, more than any other sibling, sacrificed to make Mom a part of a family. And it was Shelley, who in the last month of Mom's life, cared for her and paid a high price to do so.
Then come the boys, me included, and if you don’t detect a tone of favoritism and “can do no wrong” then you need to read it again. Where there are few details written about Shelley, there are all kinds of detail with the boys, at least for Tony and I. I was very aware that there was different set of rules for the boys than there were for my older sister. Pretty much everything I did was OK. No curfew, no interest in my girlfriend- “Why can’t you be like Danny?"is what Shelley said she heard or felt.
Not lost on me is the fact the oldest 3 children get their own paragraph, while the next 4 have to share a paragraph. Seems like the farther down in the birth order you were, the more you were lumped together and not given the same quality or quantity of attention. Although my experiences and opinions are my own, I wonder if my younger siblings feel the same way. I will give it up her though, she was a good writer. The humorous and nuanced way she describes each of them gives some insight into her sense of humor. She seemed to enjoy our idiosyncrasies.
And Jerry, the baby of the family, also nick-named “The Little Nipper”, brings up the rear. He gets his own paragraph and rightfully so. I’m quite sure his experience growing up in this family and mine were nowhere close.
The closing paragraph is probably most revealing when I think about what was to transpire. The reference to “at least a drink”, referring to us as “the children” and not being fond of walking down the middle of the road are all a foreshadowing of things to come.
And that it ended with the word Peace is nothing less than ironic.
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