The Great Christmas Letter War

Like so many others, my parents (mom & step-dad) send a Christmas letter. In addition to newsy tidbits about their hiking, gardening, and tromboning, there are updates on the kids - myself and my step-brother, Ben.

Let me give you a little context: when our parents married, Ben was 21 and I was 12, so we didn't "grow up together" the way other siblings do. Ben came home from college in the summers, but we never had the share-a-room-fight-over-the-phone-hair-pulling kind of sibling relationship. We like each other, we like to spend time together. We're cool. In fact, I admire him because he's a really awesome person. No spats. No rivalry. No nonsense.

Here's the problem: Ben's exceedingly proud papa is the author of the family Christmas letter. And it shows. Anyone reading the letter gets all kinds of updates on all the ways Ben is overachieving and/or saving the world this year.

Ben bought the most beautiful historic home.

Ben is restoring that beautiful historic home himself. Impeccably.

Ben is the President of a fancy community organization.

Ben gives trombone recitals to benefit aforementioned organization. No one has ever played more beautifully.

Ben hiked here and there. More miles than anyone's ever hiked before.

Ben summited Mt. Rainier. Uphill both ways in the snow. WITH MONO.

Ben qualified for the Boston Marathon. They will surely award him a key to the city.

Ben negotiated peace in the middle east.

Ben single-handedly found a cure for cancer. On his lunch break.

Ben walks on water.

Ben is better than Jesus.

And Nicole? Oh...right...yes, she's there too. If I'm lucky, I get three lines about how I'm still related to them. Sometimes my information isn't even accurate! One year the letter said I work for the University of Oregon. THE HORROR!

Needless to say, the annual Christmas Letter Disparity has been a hot-button issue for this unsung youngest child. Last year I finally pointed it out to Ben, who found it hilarious and not at all problematic! Punk. He even hassles me about it. "I'm gonna take the trash out - betcha it'll be in the Christmas letter!" Har-dee-har-har.

In March, everybody was gathered at our parent's house, and the wine had been flowing over dinner. Ben passed the salt and his wife muttered under her breath about how that would probably be in the Christmas letter, and that was the end of it. I took the opportunity to call our parent's attention to the epic inequity to which I'd been subjected. I politely pointed out that I would be getting married this year and maybe - just maybe - that would give me equal billing in the Christmas letter. I also reminded them that I was marrying a fellow named JIM. A little accuracy, people.

And then, in December, the dreaded Family Christmas Letter arrived.


Just unfolding the letter put me into fits of laughter. Most of the letter is written in teensy-weensy 8 pt. font. But Nicole's update? 24 pt for the win!

And my paragraph came before Ben's.

And my paragraph was totally 100% accurate.

And I have never loved or savored the Family Christmas Letter more. This sucker will be immortalized in my scrapbook: The Year I Won the Christmas Letter War.

I claim this victory in the name of the underrepresented siblings of the world! We shall overcome!

Love,
NICOLE

P.S. Later I discovered how this miraculous missive came to be. My Mom wrote the letter this year.

P.P.S. I also found out that I was the only one who got the special large-type format. But I'm okay with that. I put it on the internet so it will live on forever.

P.P.P.S. This will surely be my first and last victory in the Christmas Letter War. Ben got a new job this year. And he's running the Boston Marathon. And he's probably on the short list for a Nobel Prize.