Christmas letter tribute

Over the years I have found that you either love or hate Christmas letters. There doesn't seem to be any middle ground.

My brother and his family are fans of the Christmas letter and send one out every year. In fact, I believe this year's letter was the most sincere and moving letter, transforming the Christmas letter into a tribute - and making me rethink my position on Christmas letters.

I hope that you enjoy the following excerpts of his letter - and that you pause to cherish life and the people you love during this holiday season - and everyday of the year. Happy holidays.

Excerpt:

"If you throw a dart in the middle of a map of Kansas, you'll hit Great Bend. It is where my wife's mom, Judy, grew up with her sisters. There are three Pizza Huts in town. Turning left onto the main street is something the younger genration is sternly warned to avoid by the elder generations. The main hotel has an old pinball machine in the lobby that tilts. It's not a mecca by any means, but it is cozy and comfortable.

When my wife and I got married, we spent our first Christmas at her Grandparent's house in Great Bend -- little did I know what an experience it would be...

Nineteen of us gathered in the two-bedroom abode. I always thought my family's celebrations, with three sisters and my parents around battling ovens and microwaves (and each other and us) as they cooked away in the kitchen, were hectic. In 2001, I quickly learned that my concept of hectic was absurdly naive.

In Great Bend, if you were not cooking in the kitchen you were being recruited. Once recruited, you were stuck, trapped, following often contradictory orders from Judy and each of her sisters. It wasn't that there were too many cooks in the kitchen, but that there was not enough kitchen for the cooks. Only the cleverest managed to avoid being recruited, and it took creativity - you could plant yourself in front of the TV and pretend to be deaf (we watched about 16 episodes of Trading Spaces that day), or you could closely monitor the temperature outside, and the moment it was just warm enough, you could sneak off to go golfing.

What amazed me was that it wasn't the main meal that was being dramatically prepared in that tiny kitchen by the flurry of people. There was always food - sandwiches, cookies, anything and everything - all kinds, always out, always enticing, always delicious.

Because it was my first Christmas with my wife's family, there was naturally some curiosity as to what food I liked -- my wife's mom, Judy, was asking me about pie. It wasn't worth making a pie unless more than one of the nineteen people would eat it, you see. Judy liked pecan pie. She asked me whether I liked pecan or pumpkin pie better. I told her pumpkin (it's my favorite).

Finally, after many hours, countless shouted instructions and at least 18 chilly holes of golf, and innumerable room reveals by Paige Davis, dinner was served. And what a feast it was!

Then it was time for dessert. Judy and her sisters went to the kitchen and brought out thte pie. Judy, in a loud voice enough to rise above eighteen others, asked, "Jason, you would like a piece of pecan pie, wouldn't you?"

I froze. Pecan? I told her I liked pumpkin. Pumpkin is my favorite. I wanted pumpkin. I looked around. Everyone was talking now - Jason likes pecan pie? Jason's a pecan pie guy? That Jason, you sure can't keep him away from pecan pie, I was sure I heard them saying. But it wasn't true! I don't like pecan pie! No pecan pie! "Uh, no, I'd like a piece of pumpkin pie," I said. Judy asked me to confirm that I really didn't want pecan pie. I confirmed I'm a pumpkin pie guy. I was served pumpkin pie.

I'm not sure how long it took me to realize that the reason Judy had been asking me about pecan pie was because she wanted pecan pie, but no one else did, and it wasn't worth making a pie if only one person out of nineteen would eat it, you see. When I did finally piece it together, it was too late. The moment had passed. The pie had been served. My chance to ensure my morther-in-law would be able to enjoy one of her favorite desserts had come, and gone.

On August 16, 2008, Judy passed away from colon cancer. She was a beloved daughter, sister, mother, aunt and grandmother. She was opinionated, smart, honext, funny, forgiving and endearingly straightforward. She was a wonderful listener and my wife's rock.

This Christmas, we will be in California with my family, enjoying our classic traditions and customs. There will be lots of bonding, and giving, and love. There will also be a little something missing.

And if anyone asks, yes, I would love a piece of pecan pie."