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December 29, 2005
god damn thee merry, gentlemen
Just when I thought I'd gotten out of the holidays free and clear, along comes a belated "I love you" from someone I don't know well and who I can't stand. This would be my sister. Not either of the sisters who visited me this year—the third one, known in my circle simply as "the bad sister." Let's call her Nadine.
In a family in which everyone bad-mouths everyone else and manufactures nonsense to be offended about, Nadine is the undisputed Queen of All Nonsense. Half of my communications from home are about who she's not speaking to and/or is not speaking to her. (No amount of my telling them "I truly don't give a crap. Please stop sharing." dissuades family members from holding a phone to their answering machine and leaving on my voice-mail the angry message a sibling had left for them.) As for me, I fall in and out of favor with Nadine without my doing a thing. "Nadine's furious with you," I'm informed, even though nothing whatsoever has been said between us since I was in favor. This year, apparently, I'm in and everyone else is out. This unwelcome status manifested in a large package arriving yesterday.
Nadine has taken up oil painting, and god help me, she sent me not one but two oil paintings. I'll grant that they're better than I can do, but that's an exceedingly low bar. From anyone else, I'd likely think them thoughtful, even touching gifts. From Nadine, though, all they inspire is one thought: only she would presume to claim wall space in a stranger's house.
I see a letter attached. Crap. How long will it take her to go negative? Answer: not long.
Rather than put sic after every mistake, I'll just note that this is verbatim.
My dearest brother,People in our family have no clue to who their sister really is........
They still think back to the younger days of my youth, where many trials, lessons, and hardships were.Although many in our family have not moved on from that mentality, I have.
For the past few years I have expanded my horizons and worked on things in my life I had always wanted to do such as Genealogy as well as my Oil Painting.
I remember as a child, and in 7th grade, the teacher wanting me to take an Art Class, and Dad refused due to the financial end of it.
I remind you, this is a Christmas letter.
Enclosed are two artworks for you dear brother...... Both painted with the hands that once cuddled you, and comforted your heart. You to have grown, yet others do not see the man that is before them. I do.....
Ah, my annual Yuletide "Dad was a bastard and everyone hates me but not as much as they hate you" card from home. It's like I never left.
posted by john at 11:05 AM • permalink