Christmas comes but once a year, but Christmas letters - now that's another story. I usually get my first one of the season right before Thanksgiving, a bunch during December, and a surprising number trickling in during January and February.

One year I got one in May, but I think the writer had enough sense to call it a yearly update, as opposed to a "Christmas letter."

Actually, I think the term should be "holiday letters," since there are several religious holidays celebrated at the end of the year. But old habits die hard, and I've been receiving Christmas cards and letters for more years than I care to count.

Some people complain about Christmas letters, but I like them. It's especially nice to get two or three in one day, so obvious in their red and green envelopes and the festive little stamp in the corner, with the letter often tucked inside a pretty card. If I have the time, I will sit down with a cup of tea and read them word for word, letting a year's worth of news sink in. Some of these people I only hear from once a year. How else will I know where their son is working, the current color of their hair, and who they're married to at the moment?

The updates from the people with kids are always interesting. The way most of these letters are written, you'd think my friends' kids are the most accomplished in the universe. "Junior graduated at the top of his fifth grade class, is on the state champion peewee soccer team, received a black belt in karate, and is working on his first novel." But one mother complained in her letter about her teenager's lack of motivation in school and another said simply "parenting a teenager is hard," leaving the reader to imagine the rest. I found those two letters rather refreshing, actually.

Then there are the travelogues, often accompanied by photographs. It's hard not to get a wee bit jealous of your college roommate wearing sunglasses and a pink ski jacket while flashing a brilliant smile on the slopes of the Swiss Alps. "Why is that not ME wearing a pink ski jacket in the Swiss Alps?" I might be tempted to ask myself. That's when I must remind myself not to compare my insides to somebody else's outsides. It's just a train wreck waiting to happen.

There are a few letter-types I could do without: the litany of health procedures for one. Yes, we want to know about major illnesses and - we hope - the ensuing recovery. But we really don't need to know all the details of that bunion surgery, do we? And what about the four-page letters that describe in detail what happened during each month of the year, every friend and relative that came to visit, and every single weekend trip? My advice: hire an editor.

But I'm not complaining really. The truth is, I read all of them - even the boring ones because they connect me to a whole web of people I don't otherwise get to relate to as much as I'd like. And there's something about the exercise of collapsing a whole year of your life into a few descriptive words that is good for the writer as well as the reader.

So in the spirit of "holiday letters," here's mine to you:

Dear Friend,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I've had a fine year, all in all, most of it spent right here in my little town of Nubbins, which is okay with me. I walked in the woods with my friends, played bridge, wrote my wildflower column for the paper, went to church, and volunteered for several local committees. My friend Merl Demonbreun still adds a sparkle to my life, and at 12-years-old, Succotash the cat still rules the roost. I took a forgettable trip to Branson, Missouri, this summer and a tumble right before Thanksgiving that caused a severe sprained ankle, but not to worry. I'm off the crutches now and all is well.

It's always a joy for me to share a little bit of my life with you. Thank you for being out there somewhere, listening, and for being a part of the story. I must tell you, it wouldn't be much of a story without you.

Happy New Year!

Aunt Ida Mae

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