CHRISTMAS 2025

SAPPY HOLIDAYS

In the final months of WWII in the European theater, General George S. Patton and his troops captured the city of Trier in Germany, the former Roman provincial capital.  This was accomplished against the orders of General Eisenhower who anticipated such an undertaking would require at least four divisions.  Notifying central command of his success, Patton sent a fourteen-word message that read, “Have taken Trier with two divisions.  Do you want me to give it back?”  This year’s missive from the Greenes, while a bit more wordy than Patton’s message, it is written and sent in a similar spirit: your advice against it fell on deaf ears, and there’s no way to recall it  Sorry (sort of). 

While the English language is replete with mellifluous words in various lengths, we have a favorite of the four-letter variety: Beau. At 15 months old, some would argue that he doesn’t yet possess the mental acuity to taunt and tease, but his canine brothers (Hank and Bruce) would beg to differ: as Beau feeds himself, he’ll gladly share his bounty with his brothers, but he will often offer up a handful of something to the two furry lads only to close his hand and yank it away as their jaws are clamping shut with nothing inside their maws . . . and Beau has a toothy (and slightly evil) grin beaming down at them from his throne above. We’re looking forward to Beau translating his skills of manipulation to getting Hank and Bruce to allow him to ride them like horses for a bite of beef or a chunk of cheese.

Having graduated from college in April in Computer Engineering and stuck around Utah for the summer, Sam got his first adult job and moved to Sunnyvale, CA, in August. Please don’t ask us what it is that he does – not because it’s shady or illegal but because Erin and I aren’t smart enough to understand it, much less describe it. Erin and I were with him in Sunnyvale after helping him move, and we went to lunch at a burger joint located in an open-air mall. Erin looked around and said, “Sam, your dad and I are probably the two dumbest people in a five-mile radius.” Our fellow diners were likely employed by Google, Apple, Nvidia (Sam’s employer), and other companies populating Silicon Valley; I couldn’t argue with Erin’s comment (and I felt judged by the baby in a stroller and the dog lying on the ground next to her).

Ever the romantic, Jack accepted an invitation from one of his company’s main suppliers to spend a week in Alaska fly fishing and sight seeing that coincided with his and Kali’s third anniversary. (Pause here for an eye roll and a shrug acknowledging this to be typical Jack.) All this occurred in the Dog Days of Summer. While Jack was off living his man-child fantasy, Kali and Beau went to Las Vegas to spend time with her family, which still doesn’t seem all that fair since they traded Phoenix heat for Vegas heat – that’s like escaping Hell to end up in . . . well, Hell with a broken AC unit. During that time, we had the granddogs (Hank & Bruce) where we found we had to swap the handle around on the laundry room door so we could lock it from the outside – as it had been, Hank could open the door and bust Bruce, Phoebe, and himself out of prison. Swapping the handle wiped that smug smile off their furry faces, I assure you.

On a trip to New York back in late May, Erin let her freak flag fly freely. While in the West Village, we walked by a pizza place with a line of people that was almost a block long leading up to it. Just as we passed the front of the line, I noticed a guy standing on the sidewalk with a pizza box from the joint opened atop a garbage can. I asked him if it was worth the wait, and as we chatted he offered us both a slice . . . AND ERIN TOOK ONE! WHAT? Then, a block over (after Erin finished her slice of stranger-danger pizza and didn’t die), we came upon a man wearing only butterfly wings and a jockstrap, which we saw from the back, just singing to his heart’s content. As we passed, Erin commented that I didn’t give her enough time to get her camera out for a photo. WHO IS THIS WANTON WOMAN? I told her, after we passed, that I’d give the guy $10 to stand there while I take a photo of her with him. The Erin I’ve known for well over half my life demurely declined so I was assured I wasn’t walking the NYC streets with a body snatcher.

In April, my sales territory grew to include Colorado and Wyoming, making it seven states that I cover. The first time I flew into Denver, I couldn’t quite put my finger on the vibe of the city. There’s a great deal of money and affluence with an equal amount of tree hugging and granola eating. Then it dawned on me: Denver’s like Beverly Hills and Berkeley had a baby. I also learned very quickly how to tell the granola areas from the affluent areas: in the former, women walk around without bras underneath their clothes; in the latter, they walk around in sport bras quite frequently without other clothes. Now that winter is upon us, it’s a little different story.

If you’ve read this far, you were either bored or psychotic: we embrace all sorts. With an empty nest, we have plenty of room for visitors. If you stay in our basement, you’ll be next to my office where I’ve unpacked and set up my record player so you might be soothed to sleep with a 12-inch remix of “White Lines” by Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five or the entire Side A of Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon.” We take requests, and the lodgings are free.