Boxing Day 2006: Back By Popular Demand

Back by popular demand, my Boxing Day deep thoughts have again graced your inbox. I can see you now – weeding through the feebly personalized holiday emails you were lucky enough to receive from Pottery Barn and Ticketmaster, you found this: a holiday tradition like Butterscotch Schnapps and Hot Cocoa. As I mentioned last year, Boxing Day is the oft-forgotten day of celebration and glee, and in this spirit, I am including you in my gleeful celebration. Enjoy! (Or just hit delete, I won’t know the difference.)

Last year I tackled the issue of time and how, no matter how hard we attempt to prioritize, we’re just never going to have enough of it. How time is the most amazing gift we can ever give because it is the only gift that you can never get more of. This year's topic is just as cliché.

Recently feeling nostalgic, I took an all-too-stressful stroll through Bellevue Square; a now highly avoided task that constituted a pretty hot date in middle school. Passing unfamiliar storefronts in halls I used to have blindly memorized, the memories came flooding back – like exactly how much Sweet Factory candy I could get for $2 dollars of saved lunch money. I grudgingly trekked past The Boat, which seems to shrink each year, and somewhere between Brookstone and Victoria’s Secret, it started. I began wondering why kids these days had their backpacks to their knees and were wearing their painted-on high-water jeans so tightly that circulation must be a concern. I caught myself scoffing at the abundance of perfectly slicked hair and how kids these days were too immersed in their cell phone conversations and iPod playlists to notice anything outside of their own world. I glanced into Mariposa, a formal dress favorite of mine in the days of yore, and questioned exactly how kids these days expected their bodies to be covered by such little fabric. And then the quintessence of all things that I am not was thrust at me in such harsh reality that I felt like I had fallen off the trendy tree and hit every dated, archaic, obsolete branch on the way down. I walked into Abercrombie & Fitch. I was suddenly surrounded by perky orange salespeople who were flawlessly groomed and plucked – all of whom I instantly recognized to be wearing far too much eye make-up and bronzer, yet I was the one who looked like I was beaten by the unfashionable stick.

We’re old. Ok, I’m being a bit dramatic. We are not nearing our death or sad demise, but we are no longer the target audience. We could no longer be on The Real World. 80% of TV commercials are targeted at kids these days that are 3, 5, 7 years younger than we. Those Hot Older College Guys in Farris Bueler and Adventures in Babysitting now look like the annoying potheads who lived down the hall in our dorms. We can no longer work all of the latest gadgets, nor do we care; we’ll get our little brothers to set them up. Personally, my cell phone is far smarter than I am, and I'm moving on.

And it was then, in my moment of pop-culture pessimism, that I saw my handsome law student boyfriend on a bench ahead waiting for me – dressed in a classic black pea coat, not tinkering with an iPod, or rapid-fire texting someone on some ridiculously thin cell phone, and I realized that we are all in a very good place. We have survived years of impressing our parents and our classmates and we are finally able to put all of our practice to work – to live the lives that we want to lead – not because it’s cool or trendy, but because it is what we like. It’s what feels good. Now we can pick and choose what pop culture we accept and reject: yes to MySpace, no to Ugg boots. Yes to Kelly Clarkson, no to Razor Phones. You do you. 

I am so thankful to have friends like each one of you. Spending time in Kansas (yes, Kansas), I find myself thinking of you all often – he’s doing this, she’s doing that, and I am in constant awe at what remarkable positions my friends have found themselves in. In light of the many world tragedies, I reflect on the incredible people I've been blessed to know and love. Just like Time Magazine, YOU are the cliché topic of this Boxing Day email. And now you're done reading my antics until next year... unless I lose my cell phone again.

Wishing you and yours a fantastic 2007.

MERRY DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS! (Happy Boxing Day!)

MERRY DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS! (Happy Boxing Day!) Traditions must start somewhere – so for those of you lucky enough to have remained on my contact list (and not sent me one of those “unsubscribe” e-mails yet) you receive this: Laura’s first day-after-Christmas letter! I was just reminded by a dear friend that it is also Boxing Day, the oft-forgotten Commonwealth holiday of celebration and glee. Awesome – what better excuse to enjoy the following food for thought. It’s boxing day – READ!

Does it seem like time moves faster each year? I think someone should check on that. Christmas feels less like “Christmas” each year as I hastily become immersed in a culture where my bank account seems to decrease instead of increase as it used to. Now I don’t just “get” 3 weeks off for "break." For those of you still in school, soak it up while you still can. But for those of you encountering the golden handcuffs of corporate benefits, you, like I, have found yourself in this year’s unlucky situation where Christmas Eve, Christmas, and New Years Day fall on weekends, which you barely get off anyway. Byeeeeee Christmas Break. It was nice while it lasted. So quit! (I did.) Backpack Europe. (I arrive in Athens on Jan 5th and will somehow make my way up to Dublin). Do it. With time fleeting, the irrational suddenly becomes extremely conventional, and I'm certainly not complaining. 

I am reminded of the power of Christmas with my niece and three nephews. As I am typing this, I can hear the struggle of kid vs. parent on Christmas Eve; “well, he certainly won’t come if you DON’T go to BED! There is still plenty of time for him to switch you over to the naughty list!” (I love them all so much and being an aunt is sure one powerful method of birth control. Parenting is no joke.) To be honest, what I enjoy the most during this season is time itself. As I mentioned earlier, time seems to be what I desire most these days as it is becoming my rarest commodity. It is by far the best gift I both give and receive. It seems that everyone realizes, if only for one day, that family is important, that high school and college friends should be contacted, and that resolutions must be made. I can’t tell you how many times during the year I think “I should really call ________.” But during Christmas, we almost have an obligation. I mean, it’s Christmas! You have to call! While many cringe, I cherish it. I love hearing from you… even if it’s just one of those silly online birthday calendars that you haven’t bothered to personalize. I can dig it.

So there. That’s it really. Day-after-Christmas/Boxing Day letter number one was relatively painless… except for you non-calendar-personalizers. And I for you I have no mercy. Ok, maybe a little, but only because it’s Christmas.