As another year draws its last gasp, we reflect on how our worlds have turned, our victories and our stumbles, and how we might have made a difference. I, myself, in long moments alone, have pondered these questions, and always arrive at the same destination: my golf game, in a word, sucks. Oh, I had brief stretches of greatness, when my drives soared long and straight, my irons released crisp and true, and I could sink long putts with eyes closed. But, my friends, those stretches were all too fleeting. Most often, I hacked away at ball and turf like a drunken lumberjack with a dull axe.
Other members of the clan, however, have risen above the fray. There's Brendan (29) down Grand Rapids way who bought a house with Jodi, his dearly betrothed. They've torn out things and replaced with new, raked a few leaves, so that today they boast a splendid home to begin a life in marriage. Yes, my friends, I said the word. After only a 12-year courtship, in May they'll tie the knot at the zoo in GR where penguins will usher and lions will roar. Brendan works as a banker, plays tuba for the Holland Symphony, and loves to hunt and fish. Jodi plies her trade at a public health institute near Lansing and enjoys her toils as a budding gourmet cook.
Elizabeth (27) is concerned about wrinkles. She'll be coming around the mountain in May with a master's degree in fine arts from Georgia College. Her poetry dazzles, and her work has been accepted by the prestigious literary magazine, The Pinch. And for two years her university has selected her poems as the best for a national writers conference. Amassing a thesis portfolio plus teaching college freshmen can surely twist a complexion, but to my eyes, her skin looks refreshingly smooth. Her boyfriend, Roger, chews with remarkably nice teeth, top and bottom. He nabbed his master's last year from Georgia College and toils temporarily as an adjunct English perfesser there while he waits for Eliz to make her way around the mountain.
Sue Bohnhorst has become a creature of inflexible habit, I'm afraid. The other day, for example, she made the bed right over me while I tried to sleep in. She denied this was a random act of passive-aggressiveness, and chalked it up instead to "chemo brain." You will recall that Sue underwent 16 months of brutal chemotherapy, 2010 - 2011, and now claims she is affixed to lists and daily chores to compensate for mental slippage. I suspect this is true as there ain't a passive-aggressive hair anywhere near. Speaking of which, Sue is grateful to have her hair back again. And all of us are so blessed with her continued good health with nothing but excellent test results along the way.
And what would a holiday letter be without useless news about our gassy canines? Dog continues to stand in the middle of the room and stare at us without blinking. I cannot tell if she worships or pities us. Brendan and Jodi this year added a puppy to their mix, an exuberant Llewellin Setter named Penny, who is trained to point at delicious upland fowl. When we first met, Penny reminded me of the coiled snakes that spring in a frenzy from fake peanuts cans. And there's Elizabeth's dog, Omar, a creature so devoted to his master that he sits on her feet when she is standing, and lies on her head when she is sleeping.
I still rattle around as a social worker in the amazing world of infant adoption. It doesn't really feel like toil, but more of an honor to be thus employed. Now and then if the spirit moves, I'll muster up a thing for my blog or contribute an article to TROP, an online magazine that Roger and his friends started. I got a kick out of catching bass from my new fishing boat, but gambling on football this year has been a total bust. And spring isn't so far off, when once again I'll sharpen my axes and march off to battle with ball and turf.
Merry Christmas!
Comments are welcome at tombohn2@yahoo.com
Other members of the clan, however, have risen above the fray. There's Brendan (29) down Grand Rapids way who bought a house with Jodi, his dearly betrothed. They've torn out things and replaced with new, raked a few leaves, so that today they boast a splendid home to begin a life in marriage. Yes, my friends, I said the word. After only a 12-year courtship, in May they'll tie the knot at the zoo in GR where penguins will usher and lions will roar. Brendan works as a banker, plays tuba for the Holland Symphony, and loves to hunt and fish. Jodi plies her trade at a public health institute near Lansing and enjoys her toils as a budding gourmet cook.
Elizabeth (27) is concerned about wrinkles. She'll be coming around the mountain in May with a master's degree in fine arts from Georgia College. Her poetry dazzles, and her work has been accepted by the prestigious literary magazine, The Pinch. And for two years her university has selected her poems as the best for a national writers conference. Amassing a thesis portfolio plus teaching college freshmen can surely twist a complexion, but to my eyes, her skin looks refreshingly smooth. Her boyfriend, Roger, chews with remarkably nice teeth, top and bottom. He nabbed his master's last year from Georgia College and toils temporarily as an adjunct English perfesser there while he waits for Eliz to make her way around the mountain.
Sue Bohnhorst has become a creature of inflexible habit, I'm afraid. The other day, for example, she made the bed right over me while I tried to sleep in. She denied this was a random act of passive-aggressiveness, and chalked it up instead to "chemo brain." You will recall that Sue underwent 16 months of brutal chemotherapy, 2010 - 2011, and now claims she is affixed to lists and daily chores to compensate for mental slippage. I suspect this is true as there ain't a passive-aggressive hair anywhere near. Speaking of which, Sue is grateful to have her hair back again. And all of us are so blessed with her continued good health with nothing but excellent test results along the way.
And what would a holiday letter be without useless news about our gassy canines? Dog continues to stand in the middle of the room and stare at us without blinking. I cannot tell if she worships or pities us. Brendan and Jodi this year added a puppy to their mix, an exuberant Llewellin Setter named Penny, who is trained to point at delicious upland fowl. When we first met, Penny reminded me of the coiled snakes that spring in a frenzy from fake peanuts cans. And there's Elizabeth's dog, Omar, a creature so devoted to his master that he sits on her feet when she is standing, and lies on her head when she is sleeping.
I still rattle around as a social worker in the amazing world of infant adoption. It doesn't really feel like toil, but more of an honor to be thus employed. Now and then if the spirit moves, I'll muster up a thing for my blog or contribute an article to TROP, an online magazine that Roger and his friends started. I got a kick out of catching bass from my new fishing boat, but gambling on football this year has been a total bust. And spring isn't so far off, when once again I'll sharpen my axes and march off to battle with ball and turf.
Merry Christmas!
Comments are welcome at tombohn2@yahoo.com
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