As I do ever year, let me start by saying, you're welcome. You have no doubt received my final edits on your own Christmas letters in the mail by this point. I will say that on the whole, I found them as endearing as they were littered with cliches and errors.
I want to suggest adding a fifth character, Deb. Only moderately obese, she is an aspiring chef! Great, right? That's yours to use, no charge. She's just a kid and she's learning! That reminds me, you can give her down syndrome instead if you're looking for ways to justify the enormous head.
Fortunately, environmentalism is a double-headed monster and I'm allowed to choose which head I follow: one is the true conservationist which we all must tolerate, and the other is the affluent and bored elitist in need of a conspicuously righteous hobby. The latter is more my speed.
I am a giver by nature. Deeply rooted in my blood is the philanthropic need to ease the suffering of others, to strip away the tattered robes of misery and lick the wounds of the browbeaten, figuratively. 'Gross' you will think, and I don't blame you because your heart is not as big as mine.
It was nearly the end of summer break, swim team season had come to a close and Christie and I didn't have summer jobs because all the poor kids took them. We burned the long afternoons under oak trees talking about our futures and which colleges we might like to pretend to graduate from once we were adults.