Christmas letter 2008

Dec. 18, 2008

Dear family and friends,

2008 brought new beginnings to South Lorimier Street. Sam stopped working as a journalist to begin instructing journalism students at the local university. In between he explored India, Nepal, the western U.S. and Canada.

DC, meanwhile, explored her own creativity in a six-week glass-blowing class in St. Louis. Though one of her creations sold at an art fair, she found glass blowing difficult and unsanitary.

Teaching is nothing Sam ever thought he'd do formally, but he has taken a liking to it. He has come to understand a bit about how students in the 21st century learn and how they don't. He has stood in front of a class a few times feeling like a comedian whose jokes aren't funny. Sometimes, the best times, it's as if the students teach themselves and he's there only to encourage them.

DC still teaches pharmacology at the university in Carbondale, Ill., and runs its dental clinic once a week. She frets over the students who don't seem to be getting it or even trying. Sam never realized how she felt until he began teaching himself.

Once a week DC treats criminally insane patients at a mental hospital. They're brought in handcuffed and guarded every moment. After 15 years of marriage, Sam no longer wonders why DC does what she does. He just sits back and lets it all be.

Sam fell in love with India and Nepal -- India for the passion and spirituality of daily life, Nepal for its magnificent vistas and the ancient mystery of Katmandu. In "Tibetan Side of Town," Bruce Cockburn sings of going drinking in Katmandu: "Everything moves like slow fluid in this atmosphere/Thick as dreams/With sewage, incense, dust and fever and the smoke of brick kilns and cremations." It's like that.

This year DC decorated the Christmas tree in an Indian theme with festive orange ribbons, gauzy orange fabric, orange ornaments and peacock feathers. Sam feels right at home.

The glass-blowing class made DC realize how much she likes throwing pots. She has purchased a raku kiln to be erected in our backyard. No cremations are planned.

Our parents are healthy, a blessing we count every day. Our dogs Hank and Lucy are acting more elderly than our parents. Hank doesn't hear well anymore and occasionally has difficulty with stairs, but he and Lucy still punctually demand to be walked. DC would never disappoint them.

The older we ourselves get, the more we treasure our family and friends. They make us laugh and cry and think and swoon with love for them.

We have much faith in the New Year and in our country's leadership changes. Faith in ourselves and in each other will see us through dramas and depressions. From the perspective of the star that never left the heavens, the end of anything -- a year, a job, a journey -- is but a new beginning.

Merrily, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a former reporter for the Southeast Missourian.