LETTERS FROM HOME: CHRISTMAS 1997: DISOBEDIENTLY SEEKING SPIRITUAL GROWTH

Dec. 18, 1997

Dear family and friends,

Christmas 1997 finds various members of the household in need of therapy and yet anticipating the whims of a new year.

Lucy and DC attended obedience school together in the summer. Though a diploma was conferred, neither seems particularly more obedient. Lucy does our bidding if she wants to and if bribed. DC obeys the law.

Usually. She was an obedient child, so perhaps this is her path of spiritual growth.

Hank is our problem dog. He has not been to obedience school because we can't envision him surrounded by strange dogs and people without some sort of mayhem resulting. Hank was born into a world he fears, and he wants to retaliate.

We actually asked a therapist if anything could be done for Hank. She hesitated, then answered, "I don't do animals." The coward.

We also discovered a book called "Don't Shoot the Dog," which boasts that anyone and most any animal can be taught to perform or behave better using its method of training. Then came the disclaimer: These techniques work on anyone except people or animals exhibiting a "constellation of psychosis." That's Hank all over the place.

Our current grasp for a straw is a book by someone who claims the ability to communicate with animals telepathically. The animals supposedly tell some hysterical stories about their owners.

This is our proverbial wit's end.

Sam has returned his editing-bleary eyes to reporting, a change that has done him good. When he isn't interviewing artists or politicians he's playing golf or reading books about life on the fairways. He claims the game has a mystical aspect that fosters his own spiritual growth, thus rationalizing his Sunday mornings on the tee box instead of in a pew.

Sam's parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary, a happy event remarkable for demonstrating that almost everyone in the extended family still talks to each other after half a century.

Both of us are enjoying living near our parents again, and their continued good health is a blessing.

DC is rebounding from last December's smash-up, though she's still afraid of driving -- especially others' and Sam's.

Her recuperation has been trickier than expected. One doctor said a bothersome symptom could have been precipitated by the accident but also is a sign of aging. This was not a relief. Ever since, her dreams have been populated by dying birds.

Regardless, not one member of the avian part of the family succumbed to death in 1997. This after years of regular bird funerals. Maybe they adjusted to the move from California to Missouri better than we did.

DC misses her San Francisco shopping traditions most at the holidays, but we feel more at home here with each passing year. We've started our own traditions. Buying our Christmas tree and wine from a family that grows the trees and makes the wine is one. Another seems to be the belated replacement of the front porch screens with storm windows. The better to gaze at the winter constellations of psychosis.

We know it's Christmas if DC has undertaken a last-minute project before the egg nog is poured. This year we re-wallpapered the dining room, a feat accomplished with much hammering, chiseling and, on Sam's part, cussing.

That was last week. Now there's peace on Earth and good will toward men, women, children, birds and dogs.

Love, DC and Sam

~Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.