Christmas 2020

Christmas 2020

Normally in my Christmas letters I try to present the funny and ridiculous side of what are generally normal, maybe even humdrum, events during our year to entertain myself, family and friends.

No one needs ridiculous now. Funny, yes please. So here we go.

Claire managed to squeeze in a somewhat normal life event in February, the 2020 Winter Formal. Dancing, laughing, flirting and speculating about potential couplings occurred, as they have since humans have been gathering around a fire. Ahh, remember normal human behavior before we all became hermit crabs, confined in our shells and scurrying outside of them in fear?

It’s easy to complain about the losses (restaurant dining, attendance at sporting events, Claire’s education, planned vacations, my livelihood, balanced city budgets, Emily’s social and university life, the joy one feels on seeing a spouse after time away) but there are no three people I would rather be locked in with. The additional nuclear family time feels like a gift, because we know our girls will soon get sick of us and leave. Like everyone, we have had far more family dinners, intense political conversations and relaxing downtime than we would have had without Covid-19. And yet, at some point, the familiarity can get tiresome, and we can be forgiven for thinking, “No, I don’t want to play another G@&^*$%ed board game or watch another G@&^*$%ed movie! How about I drink a cold beer sitting on a chair that doesn’t already smell like me! How about that?!” We can be forgiven these things, right? Right? Somebody back me up here.

So half of March, all of April, May and June passed with virtually nothing occurring. Well, not nothing. Long deferred home repair projects assumed totally unjustified significance. We refinished the only expensive piece of furniture we own, our oak dining table. Thank you for the tutorial, Youtube. We painted the aluminum cover on the sun porch, and then, out of necessity, power-washed the paint overspray off the concrete. Later we installed a sliding screen door, repainted Emily’s room, snaked the kitchen sink from the vent pipe on the roof, put up a ceiling fan in our bedroom and such. I have drawn up plans for a ground-breaking Snoopy themed whirligig (a wind powered mechanical device) that has a narrative arc. I also have prepped an elaborate painting with a sly literary reference on my gate. Jenn probably saved me from madness by suggesting I apply for jobs instead of waiting for my old one to return. Pointless vanity projects are on hold now that I have secured very modestly compensated employment stocking vending machines. Good for weight loss!

In June we decided to follow through on our annual trip to Wisconsin (where we isolate ourselves without even trying) and stayed through the first week of July. Claire stayed on after we left, making a lot of friends among cousin Joe’s classmates and got a lot of practice driving, even ninety straight minutes from Wascott to Superior on county highway 35 through Dairyland! It doesn’t get more Wisconsin than that. Emily stayed in California, as she had recently started an internship at a law office specializing in renters’ rights. So imagine our surprise when Jenn got a call on July 3^rd from her asking if Jenn had heard anything about Bailey, our dog. Nooooo, Jenn said, we left her home with you, and 1500 miles is kind of far for a dog with Bailey’s poor sense of direction (she once got turned around at dog beach, freaked out and sprinted the opposite direction, requiring me to run after her). Emily meant to ask if we had received a call about Bailey’s whereabouts, which Jenn hadn’t. It turned out that Bailey assumed that since she was alone at 4 pm and there were random explosions occurring, it was time for her to audition for another family. She broke out of the backyard, wandered three streets over, heard a family playing in their backyard pool, and joined them for the day. I met the owner about two months later, and he said Bailey had delighted his daughters the whole afternoon, swimming and frolicking. They cried when he led her back to our neighbors who recognized the escape artist and put her back. Emily was very relieved. It was while I was repairing the gate that I got the idea for the elaborate painting.

Jenn has cemented her place in a group of five ladies who enjoy traveling the southern half of California in search of the perfect wine. They call themselves the Fab Five, and no, none of them have ever heard of, or care about, Chris Webber or Jalen Rose, so don’t bother. Fact-finding trips to Temecula, Paso Robles and even Palm Desert have all taken place. She assures me this is a scientific pursuit, but the pictures have no lab coats in them, and her mood is always one of giddy exhaustion when she returns. “From all the lab work,” she says. My dad worked in a lab for years, and he never came home in a t-shirt showing Christmas Cactus and the phrase “What the Succulent?!” And somebody got the wrong first letter for succulent.

Despite this entire year turning into what the French call, a steaming pile of ‘merde’, we decided to venture forth with our annual Campout in Joshua Tree Sometime Near Veterans’ Day. Other families were understandably reluctant to reserve the sites in May, and we ended up with just our good friend Dave, his son Nick and a friend. We should have realized the Old Testament God is currently calling the shots upstairs and not dragged Claire’s friend Leanne along. Leanne said the winds were so strong, they picked up her side of the tent, her inflatable mattress and her several times during the night! Gusts up to fifty mph (it blew my Coleman two-burner stove off the table) and some rain made us reconsider by noon of our first full day. Flapping tents, sailing plastic plates, and dust-filled everything were not our initial desires when we were prepping this trip. Our single highlight was a stop in Morongo at a cactus store selling baby barrel cactus for 79 cents. We got eight.

Shortly after that trip, Jenn got a difficult call about her job that was bad, but not as bad as it could be. She had been called back to work in June to help with Downtown Disney reopening and to clear out old merchandise in her store inside Disneyland. But then I think the Disney President’s dog pooped in Gavin Newsom’s yard, and they have not gotten along since. Newsom set the most onerous requirements possible for theme park re-openings, and Orange County is nowhere close. Jenn is furloughed, which means they plan to put her back to work when the park reopens, but she is stuck at home for now. Ironically, I now stock vending machines for the skeletal staff not furloughed at Disneyland, and daily see workers not adequately appreciating their position, “Jenn could do your job so much better.”

We have never needed more the joy and succor holidays bring, and yet full enjoyment is, of course, denied us. Around Day of the Dead for a few years, I have been cooking family recipes and setting up an altar of passed relatives. I have never missed them more. Most years the memories are happy and wistful, but there is more longing for their presence now. Our family is truly grateful to have been spared the worst ravages of the pandemic, and those whose families have suffered greatly are always near the surface of our thoughts. And yet we have all lost.

I just can’t think of the right tag line for this year, although several come to mind: “2020—it’s not your fault”, “2020—you’re still on mute”, “2020—Grandchildren will groan at its mention”, “2020—The Temperance League would understand”, and “2020—making all other years not suck”.

Everyone knows this will get better, and it is with this reassurance that we greet you and wish the best for you and your family.

Merry Christmas from the Leebs.

Christmas 2019

 It mostly didn’t feel different from other years while it was happening, but looking back on it Two thousand nineteen was a monumental year for our family: Important beginnings, significant endings, bittersweet remembrances…and a few non-sequiturs as well.

After many years of good intentions that never came to fruition, we set aside a Saturday in February to walk the poppy fields in Antelope Valley. This was a year of a Super Bloom, which means there were thousands of people trampling the same flowers we were all there to see. It was an immersive sensory experience, bright oranges waves among green hillsides under royal blue skies, breezes whispering through the waving stalks and even a subtle and sweet aroma that poppies in smaller amounts are not known for. We tried outwalking the hordes of picture takers, baby strollers and sullen teens and that got us a chance to stand still and listen and soak in the spectacle of the hillsides.

Over Spring Break, Steve Arnett and his family came out to enjoy the delights of California, but he insisted on helping clear the last remnants of former plants in our backyard. Thank you, Steve, and everyone should know your example was instructive. We discovered that hard work and planning improves the look of a backyard far better than carelessness and inattention. Lesson learned.  So after years of mostly just sifting and removing gravel, we were finally ready to give up and lay sod over the stony survivors. We ordered the sod with delight, looking forward to waving grasslands full of game animals, or at least having a surface to walk on that isn’t painful. On the Saturday we were laying it, our gardener arrived halfway through to mow the front. Although we were both covered in mud, sweat, gravel and grass bits, Jenn got his attention to get an estimate of how much more it would cost to maintain our new patch of grass.  He put his hand to his chin to think, but his first words were about how much we had done that morning, “That’s a lot of work for…,” he said and Jenn nodded, knowing he is a man who understands physical labor, ”… your husband.” Her expression changed to one I seldom see and never really enjoy, and I hustled him back to the front yard to discuss matters further.

In June our daughters flew off to Wisconsin for a few weeks, which allowed Jenn and me to indulge in more adult pursuits—namely plumbing. It was The Summer of Plumbers! You know that one job that ticks you off because it defies your best attempts? For me it was the leak in the shower of the master bath. Every time I heard the drip-drip-drip I swore either that leak or I would be departing this world soon. I had been reassured the valve was older but well-made and only needed a new valve stem. So I replaced it, but the drip continued. I took it apart again to put Teflon tape on the threads. No dice. Then I replaced the valve seats, requiring the purchase of a special tool. Nope. So I finally decided I would replace the whole valve with a Moen which I knew I could fix. Other projects came up but finally it threw a last insurmountable challenge my way: the handle fell off and could not be reattached because the threads were stripped. I seethed with rage at the utter insolence of this water fixture, refusing to work and refusing to be repaired. I bought the new valve, got out my pipe cutter, propane torch, flux, pipe and crescent wrenches and rubbed my hands with fury and glee at the upcoming battle. The next thing I remember is hearing Jenn say, “I heard a lot of swearing so the guy is coming tomorrow between 8 and 9. Can you be home?” I am not too proud to say she saved my life that morning.

I partially restored my sense of self-worth by installing sprinklers in the new backyard. Jenn and I were out working in the dark one night, trying to finish before the sod came the next morning. Another life lesson: laying sprinkler pipe by headlamps is better avoided if possible. And to round out the plumbing festivities, our good friend Jason Jensen installed new pipes in our shower in the guest bath and laid new tile. It looks good, but I never heard him swear, so I wonder if he was really doing it right.

On our 21^st anniversary, July 18^th, we went to a concert by a Prince tribute band with eight of our friends—a lot of dancing, a little drinking and a ton of fun. Prince must have been the most seductive man alive because even just an impersonator was able to get the whole middle aged crowd revved up, eyes shining, head thrown back and one hand in the hair (and that’s just the men!).

Once the end of August came, Claire put on her resigned face and trudged off to Pacifica High School. I asked Emily about school starting. “No, we don’t start for another six weeks at UCI.” Six weeks! UCI! Can one be proud and appalled at the same time? Jenn assured me that once classes start, the learning goes very fast. Of course she also told me that Emily’s dorm is reserved exclusively for girls who have renounced fun in all its forms. Yet when we moved her in I noticed the presence of several young men who knew nothing about such a pledge. The first quarter is almost done, and she has done very well.

From late September to early October, we were bouncing around the country for two weddings and a funeral. Jenn went to Montana for the day-after festivities at Elizabeth Peck nee Geise’s wedding and a trip around Glacier National Park with her parents. It was monumental enough to warrant a scrapbook. All four of us went to Utah for Paul and Stephanie’s wedding which was beautiful and delightful. My uncle Rod McKenzie passed away too soon, and I went back to Duluth to attend the service. He was a good man who still had a lot to give.

About that same time Claire’s Cross Country team qualified for CIF Prelims and finals after that. Unfortunately she had plantar fasciitis and could only be a cheer leader. But the team performed excellently and is expecting even more success next year. Even while laid up, Claire performed as captain and even received the Most Valuable Junior award.

We hosted two German Exchange students in October instead of one because a host family had a change in circumstance. They went to Disneyland, Hollywood, football games and the beach. Klara and Benjamin were polite and a joy as only other people’s children for two weeks can be.

We celebrated the tenth anniversary of our Veteran’s Weekend Joshua Tree camping trips with specialty t-shirts, fireball and campfires. As Emily was busy at UCI, we invited along one of Claire’s best friends, Sandra Vu, who clearly felt compelled to help with everything, to laugh at all our jokes and to be an absolute delight. Unlike previous years, the weather was excellent and we enjoyed the time out of cell phone range.

The highlight of November (besides Thanksgiving, of course) was Jenn’s 10 year anniversary at Disney. They kicked the paying customers out of California Adventure into Disneyland at 5 pm and brought in all the honored employees and their plus ones. For five hours we enjoyed open bars, open food stands and most shockingly, open queues on every ride. We wandered and ate and listened to live music until midnight. I made Jenn promise that she would not seek to cut the night short (as one of us has a habit of doing), and she was an excellent date.

We are looking forward to Christmas and particularly a boat ride around Newport Bay to see the lights on the fancy houses afterwards.

All the best to you and yours,

 

The Leebs

Christmas 2018

Hello all!

It has been so crazy busy (home projects, grading papers, etc.) this year that I won’t be able to write my usual Christmas letter. Sorry.

Please be assured that we are happy and healthy, the girls are doing great, and that though our finances could be better we carry on. We wish happiness and prosperity for you and yours.

 Happy Christmas!

 

Love,

The Leebs

 

P.S. I have been informed that I am to write a full and proper letter and that the contents of my Christmas stocking are on the line; phrases like “lame” and “half-arsed” were used. Not by me!

P.S.S. Okay,… “arsed” was not used, but you get the idea. I don’t think even the Brits use “arse.”

So here goes:

We definitely have a fin de siècle vibe this year. Maybe “upcoming transition” or “impending calamity;” I can’t tell.  Jenn and I are both delighted at the prospect of Emily attending college and terrified by the thought of Emily going away. We seem to have lost all logical consistency. We will know soon if she’ll be staying at home to go to CSU Long Beach or UC Irvine, or if my eldest daughter will be lost to the wilds of UC Davis or CSU Sacramento.  I know it’s not like we are abandoning her on the side of the highway, but the feeling is remarkably similar. We are trying to enjoy every day with her.

One of our most memorable adventures of the past year was going to Abalone Cove with the Ryders. The sandstone cliffs were straight out of Two Years Before the Mast, we saw a pod of dolphins up close, and all the denizens of the tide pools. We finished off their California day with a trip to In-n-Out Burger. Very fun.

Both the girls attended the Winter Formal in January, Claire’s first chance at a high school fancy dance. They came home happy and tired. That’s all I know and probably all I want to know.

Claire brings me much joy by playing on a soccer team all year long. The only peculiarity of hers that gives me pause is her choice of position. If other players stumble or have a lapse of judgment, it’s lost in the hurly-burly, but goalie mistakes are highly visible and very memorable. She says she does not enjoy all the running that the field players must do, but then why does she compete on the cross-country team? Maybe that logical consistency thing is genetic.

We were invited to host a German exchange student for three weeks in March. Svenja is polite and charming and got some quintessential California experiences: Disneyland, Joshua Tree, Seal Beach and a gun show. She was unfailingly grateful and even cooked Spätzle for us. We were delighted to host her and hope to see her again either here or in Stuttgart.

During Spring Break, the family (minus Em) decided to car-camp a couple of days just outside of the Grand Canyon. Claire and Jenn hiked thirteen miles along the southern rim, but I feigned an injury. I mean I was recovering from a soccer mishap. No definitive ruling has been issued. Even if you are only able to ride the shuttle bus for a few hours, the Grand Canyon is worth it. I was expecting not to enjoy it because of the crowds and the sameness of the experience for everyone, but I was wrong. In an alternate version of this letter I went on at length. Ask me if you dare.

Emily was asked to Prom by a track teammate who ended up being more than just a prom date. Jake is stand-out polite and mature, and I know I am supposed to be suspicious of him, but I just can’t find it in me to doubt him. We have even become good friends with his parents, who are ridiculously generous and kind.

Only one of us got to Wisconsin this summer, but Claire was accompanied by her best friend Emily Kim. She earned the moniker, “Amelia Earhart Kim” for her inability to stay earthbound while tubing around the lake. They both said they enjoyed it very much, and we are hoping to get the whole Kim family to our cabin someday.

We all went to Hawaii during the summer with Jenn’s family. The highlight was snorkeling with the sea turtles. Jenn and I hiked up Diamondhead as all tourists must. I’m not sure why they all decided to go the same day we did, however.

In August both daughters and Jenn escaped to Big Bear for the cross country retreat. The girls were there to run and bond with their teammates, while Jenn was support staff, prepping and cooking. These are the days the girls will remember years after high school.

We had another fantastic year camping in Joshua Tree over Veterans’ Day weekend. For the last three years we had to interrupt our trip for cross country finals. We avoided that this year, only to have Claire’s soccer team make the playoffs and get a game scheduled at 8 am in Norco. Camping interrupted, again. Still a good problem to have. The rest of the weekend was filled with friends, laughter and Fireball.

My wife and I can put another notch on the grown-up belt as we hosted a Thanksgiving dinner for the first time. Lots of potatoes, deep fried turkey and green bean casserole for everyone. My second cousin, Jack Bergum, was able to make it too.

After that, the days started flying by in a blur.

Now I am done.

Merry Christmas,

 

The Leebs