The annual Burk holiday-ish mailing, rendered in internet form:
Dear Friends and Family,
So here we go: the time has come—and gone—to be writing this letter. Naturally, many concerned people (“fans” comes to mind, but is dismissed with a blush) have been wondering why they haven’t received my annual Burk-update-and-so-much-more—as if we don’t all have enough to worry about, what with the world economy collapsing, climate catastrophe looming, and Stephen Colbert taking such frequent vacations. I can practically hear the collective sigh of relief as this modest missive is retrieved from mailboxes across the country and beyond. Here you have my little contribution to world peace: an Epiphany letter, wishing us all illuminating realizations in abundance.
And here we have Illuminating Realization (IR) #1: it pretty much stinks not to already have this mailing project done. School has started up again, our kids (and, more poignantly, grandkid) have left us, the Christmas tree has gone to the curb—but I still need to drum up some holiday cheer. (How am I doing?) I am struggling to resist the urge to expound on the complex psychological and environmental factors that are culminating in my excessive procrastination; quick—I’ll hold it off, while you read the Burk news for 2010.
Anna (26) and Travis got married! Whoo hoo--party time at last! (great party, beautiful couple, of course). This would be the place for some hilarious jokes, at Travis’ expense, about the nine years of courting—but I’m feeling like maybe we’ve milked that cow dry. Gotta get me a new cow…. There’s always their puggle, Bubba, the poster-puppy for People Against Dog Owning. At the top of the PADO bill board: “So you think you want a dog….” Then a picture of Bubba chomping on a brand new smart phone, and some descriptive bullets: “Barks non-stop” “Laughs as your empty hand reaches your mouth” “Wants breakfast at 3:00 AM” “Favorite game: Chase me! I got away again!” And at the bottom, the clincher: “This one is available—cheap.” (I can say all this because I’m one of the few who loves him.) He did help Anna and Travis meet one of their new neighbors (big year: a wedding and a first house!)—an unsuspecting man a couple doors down who discovered that the dog that had followed him in from his yard and was eating from his dog dish was not his. So sweet that Bubba is helping them establish a reputation in the Mac-Groveland neighborhood of St. Paul. Other news from the Young Holts: jobs are stable; Anna was recently promoted to manager and had an Illuminating Realization (IR): the excitement of the salary boost wears off quickly. It was a great week, though, after the news and before the extra work.
As of last January, number one daughter Elissa (29) made her biomedical engineering PhD official, and in April she started a job with a pharmaceutical company in South San Francisco. She and Ben and Ansel (now 2.5 yrs, and a real grandparent magnet) are still living in Palo Alto CA where Ben is working in a post-doc position. Elissa’s new job ended their 5-year experiment in car-lessness; they now have a Toyota Prius that gives a grandmother sci-fi chills. (Yes, a remote key is enough to set off the sci-fi alarm at my age.) Elissa’s job is challenging, but after 8 months she cautiously describes it as good; and it certainly pays better than going to school. But enough about boring jobs; you know you want to hear about Ansel (or at least you know you’re going to…). He is very busy honing several potential careers: duplo master, innovative chef (how many cooks do you know that keep a hand saw on top of the refrigerator?), professional ring bearer (already two employers on his résumé), and most recently, hockey player. To borrow an anecdote from his Grandma Joanne: he was recently studying up on the rules related to stick usage, and particularly inquired as to whether it would be considered an infraction to hit the Baby Jesus with his hockey stick. (Grandpa Dave set him straight on this.) Sounds like someone is ready for a sibling. We worked hard to Minnesota-ize him during their holiday visit, and he obliged us by whipping up a little ditty—an IR you might say—to be sung while driving back and forth between St. Paul and Bloomington: “We are tough in Minnesota!” He learned the importance of mittens, how to build a snow fort, and that he likes to whip around the ice rink on a sled; and we learned (or were reminded) that he is pretty much the sweetest thing on the planet earth.
Derek (24) and fiancée Amiee have had a somewhat painful IR this year: going away to graduate school involves leaving the Twin Cities. Derek is back in Chicago, this time on the north edge and this time with Amiee. (The omission of Amiee was a serious oversight when he spent his freshman year at the University of Chicago.) He started a PhD in sociology at Northwestern University in September; just 54 months—give or take a year—left to go! Amiee is counting them down, unless maybe she gets distracted once she starts her new job this month. Her B.A. in sociology (U of MN ’10) is about to morph into an accounting position and eventually an accounting degree on the Northwestern campus. So they should both be able to stay busy, and Amiee at least shouldn’t ever have to work at McDonalds with all the other sociology majors. They have a cute apartment in the Rogers Park neighborhood— think exposed brick, Juliet balcony, and building in foreclosure. Plus, they have a full time hobby: wedding planning. With their noses to the grindstone they should have everything ready to go in just five more months (the rest of us are standing by to help as needed). Just as an aside—I am making this document available as a Kindle-compatible .azw file at Derek’s request, as he prefers not to read the “old-fashioned way.”
Tom and I celebrated my 50th birthday and our 30th anniversary last summer with a family canoe camping trip. Our 3 kids plus Ben and Ansel made a quick 3 day/ 2-night trek with us into the BWCA, replete with IRs such as “6 adults to 1 toddler is a good ratio for camping,” and “Mosquitoes have no honor, offering no truce even during pit stops.” (Anna’s personal BW IR: “Ansel may be on to something with those diapers….”)
There’s a lot of status quo here on Valentine Ave: Tom and I are still in the same jobs, wearing the same clothes, eating the same food (just not so much that we can’t keep wearing those clothes), telling the same jokes that are still funny because we forgot that we heard them. We occasionally try to imagine what retirement will look like—still seems pretty hazy. We do have some new snow banks in our yard; Grandma Gerry—still in our basement apartment—has dubbed the mound of snow that blocks the view outside her window “Mt. St. Thomas,” in honor of the hard-working schmuck who keeps it from pressing its nose against the glass. Good thing we’re tough in Minnesota.
As I’ve now attained the lofty status of half-centenarian, I naturally experience new IR’s daily, most of them having to do with humility—and not just regarding the limitations of the body and the decline of the mind. There is a positive side to the humility of Christmas, that reminds us how every person we meet, despite any appearances to the contrary, has the potential to enrich our lives—even the helpless baby of a poor itinerant couple half-way around the world and centuries away. We are each of us blessings to each other.
With warm wishes for your New Year, and no room for expounding--
Barb(i) and Tom
