December 21st, 2009
What Would Dancing Santa Do?
The art of the holiday newsletter seems to be a shaky ground. And, granted, I’ve never tried writing one, so I’m not much of one to talk; however, the reason I’ve never written one is because I’ve seen them go a bad direction more than once.
In my estimation, the holiday newsletter should be the basics of what’s going on with you and your family, all the good stuff, upbeat takes on the bad, and well wishes for the people you are sending it to. Sometimes, this is accomplished. More often than not, the holiday newsletter becomes a scary little window into the fucked up lives of your friends and neighbors.
I recently got a holiday newsletter that was written from the perspective of the author’s cat. I learned from the holiday newsletter that the cat really liked the tree, loved kibble and wished she had more ribbons to play with. I also learned that the author has way too much time on her hands. I surmise that nothing of great importance has happened to the author this year, and hence she felt compelled to draw upon the experiences of her cat for holiday fodder.
Speaking of cats, some holiday newsletters let some cats out of the bag that probably should have stayed locked up. These are the letters where the author tells us things about their families that have us cringing. The kind of information that makes our next face-to-face encounter uncomfortable because I can’t stop thinking about the anger management class their husband took or the sleep disorder their kid has.
This holiday newsletter reads like literary diahhrea, the author can’t stop talking about their explosive IBS or the itchy rash that was covers their husband’s man bits, or really embarrassing episode of stress related bedwetting that their school age son struggled with last summer.
Uh huh. I don’t want to know this stuff. I want to know that your kid made the honor roll, that your vegetable garden grew enough tomatoes this summer to last the winter through, and that your husband likes his job. In short, lie to me. Please. Next time I see you, I don’t want to be wondering about what kind of itch cream your man is using.
I’m not sure what it is – maybe it’s the festive holiday borders, dancing Santa’s and purple reindeer holding hooves make us think that we can write about ANYTHING and it will automatically become socially acceptable.
The most popular form of newsletter blunder, in my expert opinion, is the ‘All About Me’ letters. While it’s a far cry from the intimate details that belie the IBS Explosion Newsletter and way more sane than the Channeling My Cat letter – the All About Me – is more interesting in what it doesn’t say rather than what it actually does.
I’m great, I’m back in grad school, and I’m living in the best apartment ever. Okay, great for you – but last I checked you had two kids and a husband. What happened to them? See what I mean? I’m happy that my friend/cousin/co-worker is doing great, but you can’t help but wonder if they actually flipped over to the crazy side and their counterparts i.e. kids, husband, etc… are living in another state all of a sudden or are locked in the attic desperately waiting for someone to notice their absence.
I just think there are certain topics that maybe we shouldn’t cover in holiday newsletters, such as: Rehab, Relapses, Cats, Bedwetting, Boils, Rashes, Puss or Rotting Food.
You all think I’m being hyperbolic – but you have not seen the horror I have witnessed in my stash of holiday family newsletters
Just think about it people – and next time you want to write a widespread letter to your family – consider this: What Would Dancing Santa Do?
