LETTERS FROM HOME: CHRISTMAS LETTER 2000: WAITING FOR THE REINDEER

Dear friends and family,

Indications are we're going to have a bracing Christmas, chilly enough to turn noses red and the ground outside our door into tundra. The appearance of reindeer isn't hard to imagine.

We spent a week on Cape Cod this year. We swam, ate fish (not at the same time) and swooned over a Van Gogh exhibit. Sam also managed a few days at a golf school on the edge of the Everglades and saw a PGA tournament in Orlando. Gators and sharks were everywhere.

This was the year of getting the roof mended and the house painted. Every time it rained DC would worry that more spots were going to appear on our living room ceiling. For what seemed like weeks and was, young men walked upon our heads, making Hank and Lucy quite crazy. Once in awhile the young men tried to explain the intricacies of fixing tile roofs. Uh huh, we said. How much for that spot?

When they finished there they moved to the sides of the house, splashing a color of paint here and there until we could decide on the color and location for the next coat. We guessed, they complied in paint. It was traumatic.

We liked them but hope never to see them again.

Hank has made some progress in sociability. Taking him off Prozac has improved his disposition. He also seems less anxious since we took him to an animal behaviorist who gave us assertiveness training. Our mantra: We are the masters, he is the dog.

Lucy is always the same, unfathomable, a hairy Mona Lisa.

We realize we're so fortunate to have four healthy parents, five spry sisters and brothers, and 10 incredible nieces and nephews between us. Sam's grandma has been sick but is getting better. Her presence at the center of the family makes the exchange of gifts and good will this Christmas all the more heartfelt.

Most people we know are fortunate. A friend who is a teacher writes of a sad-eyed, silent little boy in her class whose parents are so infirm he has become their caregiver. He has no toys, no bicycle, no books, no childhood. Paying for rent, utilities and medications is more than the family can do.

The school makes sure he gets extra food at lunchtime because there isn't much to eat at home.

The furnace in their drafty old house works only sometimes, but complaining to the landlord might get them kicked out.

After autumn came, the little boy began asking his teacher day after day if she knew when the weather would turn cold. When it finally did, the coat he wore to school looked just like a ragged old blue bathrobe.

Most 8-year-old boys want a Play Station 2 for Christmas. He's just hoping for a stuffed animal to sleep with. Where are those reindeer?

DC and I both turned 50 this year. She says it has given her a new perspective. She has started worrying about her contributions to humanity. She wonders how she will make her mark.

Sam prefers remembering the moral of "It's a Wonderful Life." None of us knows what we've meant to the world, but have faith. There are enough children in ragged blue robes for all of us.

DC and Sam