Christmas letter

Forgive me, dear friends, for I have sinned. It has been eight years since my last Christmas letter. During that time, I have: become a peace activist, failed to complete my dissertation, become a lapsed peace activist, been a pretty good mother, recognized an incipient internet addiction, started a blog, found a church, lost forty pounds, gained forty pounds, gotten a dog, joined a gospel choir, stayed married, lost friends, and made a few new friends. In my spare time I have been cultivating an awareness of the interconnection of all things, and I recently bought a fixer-upper dollhouse at the Treasure Mart to serve as my meditation space.

2008 was a good year. My husband had two pieces played at Carnegie Hall, one of which he performed himself. I was really proud of him, and it was thrilling, really thrilling. I hesitate to mention this in our Christmas letter, because I don't want it to sound like I'm bragging, but it was a Big Deal for our little family and I'd be lying if I didn't say so. Two trips to New York, and new clothes and everyone applauding for E. and his music getting some attention and parties to celebrate, and snow, and skating at Rockefeller Center and E. feeling good about himself and his work, and that was the best part. We got to meet Terry Riley and he seemed kind and genuine, which you don't get so much from your famous composers, and that was reassuring.

I'm not bragging, because I didn't really do anything, except put out a nice buffet for the performers when they were in town to rehearse, but still, this is what happened to us in February. It was so magical that you could almost forget about all the killing in Iraq and the soldiers coming home dead or worse and how we are all responsible for that, every minute.

The wars have been heavy on my mind, but I know that some of you are embarrassed or confused by that, so I compromised last year and the year before that by writing about the wars in my Christmas letters and then not sending the letters out. When the thought of all the senseless suffering gets to me too much, I eat something and I feel better for a minute.

My daughter is nearly ten now, and she is learning things and she is lovely. Again, not that I'm bragging, really. She has her challenges. Still, she is playing sonatinas and dancing jigs and reels, and she has a healthy sense of the absurd and she can clap on beats 2 and 4 when it is required, so I am grateful. I'm scared about what is ahead for her. I worry all the time if we are doing enough to prepare her for adult life in this weird and desperate world.

I am still teaching piano lessons and I've gotten quite good at it, despite my limitations as a pianist. When I have the house to myself I practice the student repertoire I never learned and I play gospel piano in as many keys as I dare. St. Leo's church in Detroit is my heaven on earth and the people there are my heroes and my role models. They shine like the sun. They are hurting for money there, by the way. I'm just sayin'.

I want to wish you a happy new year, I do wish you a happy new year, but for some of you, I know that this will be a sad new year. I know that some of you have lost family members, some of you are depressed, some of you have cancer. I want you to know that I know; that it makes me cry, and that if you are up to a happy new year, I do wish it for you, along with peace in your heart.

I wish we could have peace on earth. I think we ought to all be working toward peace on earth. I think I ought to be working much, much harder for peace on earth. I am a hopeful person, but so far, Obama's appointments have been a disappointment, so I see that it is up to us, still.

That about sums it up, I guess. If you haven't heard from me in a while, I probably miss you a lot, and love you. I don't write so much, because I don't want to offend anyone, and because I am lazy with some perfectionist tendencies.

Happy winter celebration of your choice, happy coming of light, Happy New Year, deep peace.

Suzanne