The Christmas Letter Syndrome
By
Eric P. Nichols
Im about the last person on Earth anyone would accuse of being a Scrooge. I love everything about Christmas: the snow, the festive lights, the happy kids, the music, the roast beast, the yearly Charlie Brown Christmas special, and the giving and getting of gifts.
Well, ALMOST everything. If theres one Christmas related tradition that makes my skin crawl, its the arrival of that dreaded Christmas letter. Actually, its not really a tradition, its a syndrome.
The purpose of writing a letter, as Ive always understood it, is to convey information from Point A to Point B. The contemporary manifestation of the Christmas Letter, despite its interminable length, fails miserably in this regard. The typical Christmas Letter is more like a drive-by data dump. It is what I call CLS...Christmas Letter Syndrome.
This is where you learn that Aunt Hildegard's youngest of three daughters was elected State Senator, when last you knew, Aunt Hildegard wasn't even married. For some reason, people write Christmas letters as if they're merely continuing a conversation that started fifteen minutes ago, when in reality, it's more like dropping into the middle of Anna Karenina....in Russian.
If you MUST write a novel, it would be helpful to clue us in as to who the characters are, and, if humanly possible, give us a hint as to why we should care. Its not that we dont like people, but its a lot easier to care about somebody we know. Your next door neighbors boss or your orthopedist isnt one of them.
Now, in all fairness, I have to acknowledge that you are no more likely to take any interest in my Christmas Letters than I am in yours. This became quite evident about two years ago. Until that time, I would dutifully and promiscuously propagate my annual literary masterpiece far and wide. I am a writer, after all.
However, I recently received a card from a not-too-distant relative in response to one of my epistles.
Oh, you live in Alaska! How interesting! When did you move up there?
After informing said relative that this happened in 1976, I retired entirely from the Christmas Letter business.
Now, theres one other aspect of the Christmas Letter Syndrome that bears mentioning. Why does everyone in the writers family become an overachieving Mother Teresa right after Thanksgiving? More than likely, the few names that we DO recognize in your tomes are people we remember as the neighborhood deadbeat or apprentice axe-murderer. You really dont have to spin your newsletter for our benefit. We have black sheep in our family, too...we fully understand. Sure, Christmas is the season to be jolly, but not the season to escape reality.
In closing, Id like to pronounce upon each and every one of you Peace on Earth and Good Will to All Men.
In keeping with this goal, Ill spare you the Christmas Letter.
Sincerely,
Eric P. Nichols