A Seasonal Letter From The Outlaws

A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster

It will soon be that time of year when we receive one of those annual folksy newsletters from a relative who just likes to let us know what is going on in their lives. Usually we are overjoyed to hear how they are doing – especially if their past year has been a real bummer and we’ve had a good one. But what if the missive is from that wealthy cousin we never liked in the first place?

Dear _________ (please fill in your name)

Well it’s been another great year at the Knebbish house. Our son, Neville, has been accepted at Queen’s. Of course, why wouldn’t he be, finishing in the top 2% of Ontario scholars with a 98.9% average? Had he not taken two months off to play on the international tennis tour, he would have been first.

Little Phillipa is engaged once again. I believe she is truly happy this time. Her first four marriages didn’t work out. She should never have married beneath her station. Her first husband never finished college, you know. He went into his father’s business, a gas station I understand, and sometimes he would come home smelling of grease, how disgusting. They seemed happy, although he was the jealous type. When little Phillipa went off to Europe with the Italian touring soccer team, he obviously resented her having a good time and put his head in a gas oven. Unfortunately she couldn’t get back for the funeral, a game in Milan I believe, but she did send flowers. Phillipa was always a caring girl.

Her second and third marriage didn’t last either. We barely got to know their names. Why they put their heads in the gas oven is still a mystery. Her fourth marriage ended in a messy divorce. I’m sure if her husband had given the poor girl a chance to explain why she was in bed with those sailors, they could have worked it out. I do hope this next marriage is successful. She’ll be 22 on her next birthday and could use a break.

Bruce and I just got back from another cruise. This time we did the Pacific islands – all of them. The food aboard ship is just wonderful as you probably know. Bruce put on another 10 pounds. He now weighs in at 420, but carries it well. If I do say so myself, he looked quite spiffy as they lowered him over the side of the ship by crane.

It was our third cruise this fall and quite frankly I’m exhausted. Thank heavens we are going to Cancun on Monday for a month. There’s nothing like a few weeks on the beach to get one rested.

We trust you will have a great Christmas. Our Christmas last year was wonderful. Although we had a bit of a setback. Bruce was given one of those scratchy tickets and the poor dear won $100,000. We had no idea what to do with another 100,000. It almost ruined the season. He couldn’t decide whether to give it to charity or re-invest it. That’s all we need, another investment. Luckily, the Lincoln ran out of gas, so Bruce left it somewhere and bought another.

Did I mention we gave Neville a Mercedes for Christmas? He pouted for hours (he’d asked for a Jaguar) but I said, “Bruce, don’t you let him bully you into exchanging it. It’s high time he learned he can’t have everything he wants in this world. The Weston boy next door had to get by with a Mustang.”

Phillipa is so hard to buy for, so we just gave her a gift certificate for Holt Renfrew. She can have whichever store she wants. Myron, her fiancé, was quite a problem. We had no idea what to buy him. He’s Jewish you know. So we had the Pope flown in to read him a few passages from Exodus.

Bruce sold off one of his companies, one of the oil ones I think. I never can get them straight. About 600 employees are out of work. It’s too bad, but if they realized how much time Bruce had to spend running that company, they would understand. It seems like every six or seven weeks he was at the office straightening out one damn thing or another.

Our biggest problem this year, will be what to do for you, our closest relatives. We have always believed that it is the duty of us who have been successful to share our good fortune with the family. For a while we considered sending each one of you a cheque for a few thousand dollars. But somehow, the whole idea of sending money sounded so… vulgar, with all the poverty in the world.

So rather than send money, which you probably don’t need, we are sending this news letter — and in your name, Bruce will drop a crisp $5.00 bill in the Salvation Army kettle on his way into the liquor store.

                                                                 Mary Knebbish

(Image Supplied)

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