Once upon a time, there were four sons.  There was one son who was responsible, followed the rules, made insightful comments and did the crossword puzzle on weekend mornings.  There was one son who was gregarious and generous, loved clothes and had a limit for how many selfies he would take with his family.  The third son was a free spirit often blank faced at the cross roads between the expectations of society and personal passions.  “Why do I need to fold my clothes?  Who is that for?”  And the fourth son sees all of the mistakes of his brothers and formulates clever ways to make the same mistakes, just without anybody noticing.  Just for kicks, we might name the characters of this story Ben, Cooper, Griffin and Christian.

And thusly, we find ourselves in 2024. 

Ben (green sweatshirt).  26.  Lives in Jamaica Plain with his girlfriend, Lily.  Cooper.  23 (far right).  Lives in Southie (Boston) with friends from Concord, Camp and College.  Griffin (baseball hat).  Soon to be 21.  Is flitting about Europe on a study abroad semester which apparently only serves up classes on Thursdays.  And Christian.  Soon to be 17, is stuck home with us and has become a master of the phrase “I will do it in a minute” where “minute” seems to describe some new age of geologic time.

It’s nice to have 3 of them close to home.

“Who wants to come out to Concord and help me hang up the Christmas lights?”

“Mmmm.  I have a conflict.”

“What?”

“I am anticipating being hung over.”

Cooper relayed that he can’t go on any dates on Mondays or Thursdays because there is a football game.

“What, are the coaches waiting for your advice?”

“I have to know what’s happening.”

“Why?”

“I have thoughts.”

I am not sure anybody is eagerly waiting for these thoughts but at least Griffin sends insightful texts from his study abroad semester.

“I am not meant for the Louvre.”

“A quarter of the paintings in this museum seem to be people dying of breast feeding.  The other quarter are landscapes.” Accurate for sure but apparently nobody is taking math. 

Griffin’s texts do have a unique flair.

“Second eldest brother, the method of payment that you so desire is in transit and shall grace your presence on Tuesday.  Madre seeks to inform you that it will be in an envelope colored blue.  Perhaps periwinkle.”

“If I bring my Cannes hat, will I be sold as a tourist?”

“Dad, I have an important announcement.  I am wearing pants.”

“I’m not good at this thing called “school”.

“Family – if I perish to the cold due to such harsh conditions, may my legend continue!”

“BREAKING!  Part 13.  We find out, by dramatic reveal, that… I, Griffin, am the most normal.” 

As you can imagine, this was met with some debate.

Christian had a pretty cool football season.  And creative.

“What in god’s name are those?”

“I couldn’t find my knee pads.”

“Are those sponges?”

“I found them under the sink. They kind of work.”

On the field, he does at least look like he knows what he is doing.

Christian did get his drivers license which was a big deal.  Polly and I were suddenly retired from our Uber driver careers which have been longer than any other job we have had.  25 years!  Apparently no pension.

Ben got promoted!  He is doing data-engineering-y things that go over my head.  But his office is about 500 feet from mine so I do get to heckle him for lunch every now and then.  Ben has an uncanny ability to take over being music DJ when we are all together and then making us all listen to an array of songs that are not attractive musically but tend to have lyrics that delight him.  There is one in particular about how all snails are secretly disco enthusiasts who travel to San Francisco in search of the funkiest grooves. You too can enjoy. Who thinks of this stuff? The other lovely little quirk is forcing us to drive around to the movie soundtrack from either Batman or Inception.  Both make you feel like you are dressed in black and live somewhere where it rains all the time.

Speaking of cars, our Suburban died which made me sad.  I loved that car.  It kind of disintegrated underneath us.  I talk to our cars.  Like Dr. Doolittle.  They complain about everybody except me.  “You are so kind and smart and wise.  And good looking!”  Ahh.  They are a constant source of love and positive feedback.  Nobody else seems to be able to hear them.

Cooper got promoted!  He is in tech sales and apparently can sell quite a lot.  He has a traditional bet with his friends every Sunday – that whoever is the weak link in fantasy football has to go jump in Boston harbor that afternoon.  We traveled to Scotland this summer and Cooper always finds this sweet spot of distance when we are walking such that he can decide on the fly whether he is related to us or not.  Until Polly tries to take a selfie.  And then it is literally like he puffed away into a cloud of dust.

I am not allowed to go to Costco anymore.  I think it has something to do with the bag of oatmeal that was just plopped in front of me that serves 140.  And maybe the Volkswagen size container of sauerkraut that my loving roommate left on the hood of my car this morning.  It was good on my hot dog. 6 months ago.  Polly has informed me that I need to make it disappear but can’t throw it away on our property because it smells too much.  So now I am driving around West Concord looking for someplace to throw out 9lbs of sauerkraut.  And she made me take other smelly things like the dog poop bags.  My motivation is high because the car is starting to warm up.  Residents of West Concord – I am sorry.  This is not my fault.  Well, actually, it is totally my fault.  Just don’t go close to the dumpster near the post office.

Coming in April is the 250^th anniversary of the shot heard around the world!  In our little town!  Polly is heading up a big chunk of the marketing which has resulted in all of us running around Concord like paparazzi.  Sadly, Polly lost her Mom this year. Kathy had been suffering from severe dementia for years but in her old self was one of the warmest, silliest and generous personalities on the planet. Much like her daughter. She is desperately missed.

Kathy was nothing if not a lover of dogs. And on the lighter side, our fuzzy family members received an Amazon package one day that squeaked when the driver dropped the package in the yard because it was, in fact, actually for them.  But now they think every package is for them.  And we come home to find our yard strewn with hot sauce and shredded paper towel. 

But they are very cute.

As always, we hope this note finds you well and surrounded by friends, warmth and laugher this season.  Happy Holidays!

Christian, Polly, Bentley, Cooper, Griffin and Christian (and Finn and Maggie – the furrier Meyers)