2007 Quinn Holiday Letter (It’s a Rerun)

Saturday, November 24th, 2007 November 24, 2007 To my dear friends, In deference to the writer’s guild strike, I have decided not to write any new material for our 2007 Holiday letter (except for this explanatory paragraph and a few comments here and there that I can’t resist). That’s right, this year’s letter is a rerun. For those of you who have been receiving my annual missive, happy holidays to you and now feel free to delete this because you’ve already read it. (from 2006) I blew it. I decided to forgo our family holiday letter on the assumption that no one would miss it. BIG MISTAKE! We received so many concerned letters, calls and emails from friends and loved ones wanting to know WHAT HAPPENED that I immediately began working on an emergency post-New Year’s letter. Okay, I’m exaggerating. Only one person e-mailed (Ken Gomez). But I’m sure the rest of you would have if I’d waited a few more days. Have you noticed that now that I’m a professional writer, my writing has taken on a literary quality? No? Me neither. (from 1995) After spending ten years in NY, I can now tell you with complete assurance that the real estate market has reached an all-time peak and that the smart money is selling everything it has. How do I know? Very simple. We just purchased a lovely three bedroom apartment on Union Square. People with more conventional views have suggested that $400 a square foot is too much, but I prefer to think of it as reasonable - compared to the Champs Elysee. [note from future Karen to past Karen - BUY MORE YOU IDIOT!!!] (from 1995) We have been working to get Schuyler into kindergarten next year and this has been a major undertaking. Between essay questions, tours, parent interviews, child interviews, tests…getting Schuyler into school has become a part-time job. Manhattan schools are excellent but the process to get in is daunting. During one of her upcoming interviews, she will be expected to write her name, know the alphabet, draw shapes on demand…skills she barely possesses at four. We were so depressed that Schuyler seemed hopelessly behind on her kindergarten admissions skills that we discussed hiring an admissions consultant and getting her a tutor to help her cram for her test. Ha ha, can you imagine anything so crazy? Actually, we weren’t serious, but that tutor idea sounds like a winner - a Stanley Kaplan to prep kids for kindergarten admissions tests in NYC! [Little did I know when I wrote this that in 2001 I would be the queen of the admissions consultants and tutoring little test-takers until one wiseacre admonished me with, "Stop! Can't you see I'm only 4!] (from 1997) We volunteered to take the guinea pig (”Star”) from Schuyler’s school for the Thanksgiving weekend. Schuyler was so excited. First she put Star in her doll house, then she gave him a tour of the apartment and introduced him to her fish, Beverly, Goldie and Sasha, then she decided to dress Star in Barbie clothes and take him out. Unfortunately, the Barbie clothes didn’t fit so she made Star a sari and took him for a ride her her doll’s baby carriage. As Schuyler and Star were watching TV later, we noticed that Star wasn’t moving much so we put him back in his cage. Next time we checked, Star was dead. Two hours after bringing him home, Schuyler had (without malice aforethought) tortured the class pet to death. I called the school and told the director exactly what happened (well, sort of) and she asked me to keep his body in the refrigerator so the kids at school could say goodbye on Monday. When Mark opened the fridge and saw a dead guinea pig in a zip-lock bag next to the turkey, he made me return Star to school to their refrigerator. The next week, the children said goodbye to Star’s body and buried him. It was traumatic for all, but we decided not to tell Schuyler that it had been her fault. The school is now looking for someone to watch the class lizard over the Christmas holiday. Schuyler volunteered, but I think not. [note - you might recognize this story. I used it in The Ivy Chronicles.] (from 1997) Sam, age 5, is growing up to be a rough and tough boy. He still loves Super-heroes and Goosebumps books. He is full of energy and acts very tough, but tells me “I love you” whenever I leave his sight, and still sleeps with his special matted up “Red Puppy.” At night, after I hug and kiss Sam goodnight, he always says to me, “Don’t forget about Red Puppy.” Then he spreads Red Puppy’s top paws so the dog can hug me, and makes Red Puppy kiss me with his cloth tongue. [Now that Sam is 15 and sequestered in his room most of the time, I really do miss my little man of yesteryear. Funny thing though, Sam still sleeps with Red Puppy.] (from 2000) Schuyler, age 9, is turning into a real beauty. She is tall and slim with blond hair and blue eyes. This year, she went to camp Arrowhead in Texas (again) and had a wonderful time. She was elected “best cabin mate” by her friends, an honor I never achieved when I attended that camp. Besides enjoying gymnastics, shopping, and visiting pet stores, Schuyler is learning to play guitar. She is also the only Quinn in Hebrew school. [note - she eventually flunked out.] (from 2004) Schuyler, age 13, was back at French Woods this summer, a performing arts camp in the Catskills - heaven on earth as far as she is concerned. I call the place Hickey Woods. Can you guess why? Hint - it is co-ed. (from 2000) Sam is going to try out to be in a movie on Monday. He’s auditioning to play Julianna Moore’s son and he is so excited at the prospect of becoming a rich and famous movie star. This morning at breakfast, Schuyler said to him, “Sam, if they are looking for a skinny boy, you probably won’t get the part. But if they are looking for a chubby boy, you’ll probably get it because you are the cutest chubby boy in the world!” Sam beamed and replied, “Do you really think so!!” [note - he didn't get the part. They cast a some skinny little brat.] (from 1997) Yesterday, Sam was joyfully singing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” on the bus when an angry passenger told him to stop. Sam looked at him and quipped, “Who are you? Ebenezer Scrooge?” The others on the bus applauded his five-year-old wit. (from 1996) This season, I took the kids to see Peter Pan on Broadway. There is a moment in the show when Hook declares, “I am the greatest villain in all the WORLD!!” When that happened, Sam jumped out of his chair, punched his fist in the air, and screamed, “That’s what YOU think, Hook!” I had to hold him back or he would have stormed the stage and taken Hook down all by himself. The entire audience was in hysterics (even Hook broke character and laughed). (from some time in the 1990’s) Mark and I are fine. We both turned 40 this year. We feel SO old. [note from future Karen to past Karen - Slap! Slap! Slap!] (from 2001) This year, we lost our beloved cat, Kitty Quinn, who thought he could fly, but found out the hard way that he couldn’t. [note - After Kitty died, the custodian in our building wrapped his body in a black hefty bag and threw him in the trash - we weren't able to find the body despite some serious digging. Mark was traveling and I told him over the phone that Kitty had died. He thought I said "Mimi died." Mimi was my 95 year old grandmother who was in a nursing home in Texas. Mark said, "That's not so unexpected. What happened." I told him, "She jumped out the window." "What," Mark said, "So it was suicide." "You could say that," I said. "When is the funeral?" Mark asked. "That's the terrible part," I said, "there won't be a funeral. They wrapped her body in a hefty bag and threw it in the trash." We then realized that we were not talking about the same loved one. (from 2000) Mark is still at Royal Alliance, as their general counsel, a job he enjoys. He follows jazz religiously and track and field with great passion. [I use this line every year.] (from 2000) Guess what! I just lost 25 pounds. I’m proud to report that today, I bought a new pair of jeans, size 4. [Those jeans have not fit me in six years.] (from 2003) I’m going to end this holiday letter with Sam’s life story (misspellings and all) which he gave me for my birthday in 2003. There is nothing I could write that would top Sam’s heartfelt autobiography at age 11. Enjoy! My Life Story, by Sam Quinn It all started the day I was born. My parents saw a yellow kid. I had to sit under a light for three whole days with no break. What a drag. When I was 18 months old my mom and dad sent me to preschool. I hated it. But I made some great friends including one of my best ones, Spencer Mossack. Preschool was getting boring so when I was 5 my parents sent me to regular school. In kindergarten I had Jane and Judy as my teachers. Life was going along fine until one day in early January. I found out my grampa had cancer. I wasn’t sure what cancer was but I knew it was bad. He died the next month. In first grade my life took a turn for the better. In early September, two days before school started, a cat showed up at our building. We took him in and named him Kitty. In first grade I had John and Tracy as my teachers. They were nice. I got homework for the first time. In April my best friend Spencer’s dad died of a heart attack. In second grade, I had Jessica as my teacher. She was nice and strict. If you forgot homework, she made you redo it. For the first time in my life, I had a year without any deaths. It won’t last. When I finished second grade, I felt like I had accomplished something. I had a hard year, but it paid off. The best part of the year was little league. My team (the Reds) won the championship. I haven’t won it since. Third grade was horrible. On September 11, the twin towers fell. One week later, Kitty died. Mom understood my pain and let me take a day off school. She understood that Kitty was like a part of me and when I lost that part, I broke down piece by piece. It took a whole year to recover. Jessica was my teacher again and I thought I deserved to be in a 3-4 class instead of a 2-3 class do to my smartness. All in all, it was lounging around. When I started fifth grade I was shocked to find out I was in 5H. Heather is a mean old witch. I’d rather have Josh like Schuyler. It’s been hard and fun. My life is like a ferris wheel. It goes up and down frequently. Thanks mom. Without you I wouldn’t be here. You were my inspiration. So, I wrap it up by saying “Thanks, Mom.” Happy holidays to all. Next year, I promise to write an original letter if GOD WILLING the writers have gone back to work. Love, Karen