1999 Christmas letter to Grandma ~ December 30, 1999

David Heiller

Dear Grandma:

We came to the stop sign by Banning Junction. My window was frosted over. Cindy couldn’t see the on-coming traffic. I pushed the button and down came the window, all the way down. Cindy has asked me not to lower it all the way down, but I forgot.

The window hasn’t been working all the time lately. It sometimes gets stuck in the open position. I have to open and close the door. Then it works again.

Guess what happened last week? When I pushed the button to make the window go up, it wouldn’t budge. I opened and closed the door, and it still wouldn’t go up.

It was 16 degrees below zero outside. The window was all the way open.

So we drove the last four miles into Askov going 55 miles an hour, which created a wind-chill in the car of 82 degrees below zero.

I put my coat, gloves, and hat back on, but it was still a chilly ride. Good old Sebald Motor Sales fixed it that day.

I blame this little window incident on Christmas, Grandma, because it’s easy to get distracted at Christmas time and put off doing the normal things like fixing broken car windows, or writing Christmas newspaper columns on time.

I don’t know if this was true for you, but there’s a myth about Christmas to me, that it is a peaceful time, like the songs imply.

But it isn’t that way. There is too much to do. The season is more stressful than I like to think about. It’s a time of car windows that won’t close.

Yet there is much to celebrate in the midst of the chaos, as the cartoon For Better or For Worse illustrates. The season hold’s more than its share of joy.

I can still eat your chocolate Christmas cookies. Cindy asked me last week, “What’s your favorite Christmas cookie?” and it didn’t take me long to answer, “Grandma’s chocolate cookies.” So she made them for me because she loves me as much as Scott Domogalla loves Julie.

The kids are easy to appreciate too. Noah complained that there were no presents under the tree for him to poke and prod. He can find the funniest things to complain about. He may be 16-1/2 years old, but there’s a lot of little kid in him. I knew exactly what he was saying. We both laughed about it. I brought a couple gifts home for him to man-handle before Christmas.

Noah, his cousins, and Uncle Randy enjoying tree-time.

Mollie sang at two church services on Christmas Eve and that was nothing to complain about either. She asked me if I would accom­pany her, which I answered as quickly as I did Cindy’s question about your cookies. Yes! I hope her singing never stops.

Is there anything better about Christmas than the songs we sing? Yes, some of them paint Norman Rockwell pictures. But they still hold a lot of love and hope.

Christmas gives me a chance to think about you too, and the good old days. Having you upstairs, playing cribbage, listening to your stories. I find comfort in the past, even though you, no doubt, had your share of stress.

How many times did you tell me about the Christmas when you were a little girl in Nebraska and you got an orange for Christmas, and how good that orange tasted? Not enough times, Grandma, not enough. I can still taste it.

You taught me to be thankful for a lot of things. Thanks for that, Grandma. I hope all is well with you and your old friends Up There.

Love, David

P.S. Is there going to be a Y2K problem in Heaven?