2024 Layne Family Christmas Letter

Well, here we are again. To paraphrase Cheech and Chong, another year up in smoke.

Despite the gloom and doom pre-election messaging from the CIA sponsored mass media outlets and the deep state-controlled entertainment industry, as of this writing, all leading indicators would suggest the world has not ended. Only time will tell if that’s a good thing.

2024 began as 2023 ended with travel, this time to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry – Orlando Campus – where Ally gave serious consideration to entering the transfer portal prior to her senior year. As it turns out, the NIL money wasn’t nearly enough to lure her away from Iowa City and her beloved Hawkeye nation. Nevertheless, all enjoyed rubbing elbows with the many robe-clad witches, wizards, and sticky children crawling about Universal’s stadium-size restaurants and overstimulating attractions. The crew also visited Kennedy Space Center where Mark was sorely disappointed he couldn't hitch a ride back to his mothership. 

In April, Sylvia shed her chemo-wracked body for what we imagine was a tear-filled reunion with Don. It seems she felt Don had suffered too long under the delusion that he’d won their last argument and was determined to set the record straight. Although diagnosed with ovarian cancer several years prior, her official cause of death was systemic organ failure resulting from chemotherapy, ironically the very treatments she believed would cure her. Not long after Syl’s departure, her sister Adel joined the party, thereby reuniting the whole Lemanski clan. We pray they don’t run out of Cutty Sark in heaven.

Speaking of gravestones, in March, Karen added another row to her eclectic and unconventional resume’ when she joined the staff of the Peter Troost Monument Company, a local purveyor of cemetery monuments, grave markers, and pretty much anything else you can make from granite save countertops. In keeping with custom, she finds herself surrounded by another quirky group of co-workers straight out of central casting. Holding to the philosophy of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” they still employ many of the same procedures, equipment, facilities, and staff that were there when the company was founded in 1889. Karen nevertheless enjoys her 1.2 mile commute, three day workweek, and her brushes with celebrities –  most dead, some apparently still revered by adoring fans. (Mark is disappointed they weren’t clever enough to give their employees Tombstone Pizza gift certificates as a holiday bonus.)

After listening to her friends and cohorts profess the many benefits of a career in nursing such as working seven consecutive twelve-hour shifts of alternating days and nights as well as prevalent contact with bodily discharges, Ally made an academic course correction, electing to return to her familiar athletic milieu in pursuit of a degree in exercise science. It is her goal to motivate and assist other athletes in reaching their full potential both physically and academically as she claims to have done for former classmate and protégé, JJ McCarthy.

Speaking of jobs, in May, Mark was released from the telecommunications project management role he’d held the prior two years. He cheerfully utilized the ensuing six months reclaiming a fraction of the millions he contributed into the Illinois unemployment security system over past 40 years while getting some projects done around the house. In fall, he again subjected himself to the rigors of officiating high school football, earning even greater respect and sympathy for the striped pariahs whose job it is to learn and apply roughly 10,000 abstract and nuanced rules compiled by a dyslexic law student, all while keeping track of 22 testosterone-enraged teenagers who, at the urgings of their perpetually irate coaches, scatter at the snap like illegals during an immigration raid, violating as many of said rules as possible during the five seconds it takes to complete a typical down. (One of his fellow officials described the job like trying to count cattle in the middle of a stampede.) He recently accepted a new role as a sherpa leading explorers on remote expeditions to exotic Upper-Midwest locations like Kokomo, Ixonia, Quasqueton, and Chokio.

For the better part of the months of May, June, and July we were beset by a plague straight out of the Old Testament when both the 13- and 17-year cicada broods emerged from the earth and began terrorizing teenage girls throughout the upper Midwest. It was impossible to go outside without being dive-bombed and so loud we couldn’t even hear the rap music blaring from the Amazon delivery truck. They’re harmless except for the fact that they pee on you when threatened – which Mark discovered one day while reading on the patio – and the bites we all suffered from the mites which feast on their decaying carcasses after they die. On the bright side, Maggie found them fun to torture and tasty too!

Speaking of Maggie, when she wasn’t snacking on cicadas, she would wait patiently for hours under one of our two backyard trees in hopes the resident squirrel would fall dead at her feet after succumbing to starvation and/or dehydration, thereby saving her the trouble of chasing it around the yard and killing it herself. Her faithful companion remained ever at her side, providing critical support by dashing to a vacant spot in the yard and barking at the sky, the shed, or the fence, clueless as to why but proud to be doing such important work.

Speaking of Sparky, given the current cultural sensitivity to offending protected classes, the word “retard” and “retarded” have been largely eradicated from our everyday lexicon – except in the case of Sparky as no other words more aptly describe his unique persona. We have come to learn that the Mongoloidian Poo Hound – a designer dog bred for its soft fur, sweet disposition, and tender meat – is now extinct in urbanized areas owing to its limited mental capacity and tendency to jump in front of moving cars to avoid being attacked by parkway trees. In conformance with the current public sentiment against whiteness, he works tirelessly to cover his fur in filth whenever left unsupervised, occupying the balance of his waking hours licking his paws, furniture, rugs, the patio, and Karen.

In September, Amanda decided to meet her pathological anxiety head-on by confronting two of what psychiatrists consider the top five most stressful life events. Because their lives weren’t sufficiently complicated, Amanda and Todd made the decision to cohabitate. After an extensive search, they signed a lease at a new, hip apartment complex off a major tollway exit in the southwest DuPage metropolis of Warrenville. How we fit 2,000 square feet of furniture into their 700 square foot space remains a miracle for the ages.

Days after moving, in an apparent effort to bolster the wealth of future generations of oil Sheiks, Amanda left her familiar social media role at Morraine Valley CC and agreed to a new writing-focused gig at Elmhurst University. At the same time, Todd ended his several months of unemployment by accepting a new job in the far north suburb of Long Grove. They now spend most of their quality time on the phone whilst driving or enjoying each other’s company during their brief encounters on weekday evenings and the two hours they’re not sleeping on weekends. So far, Amanda likes her new job which is more aligned with her love for writing. She is, however, struggling to adjust to her in-office, five-day workweek which has cut into her online shopping and warm season tanning.

Later in September, K & M cashed in an aging voucher for two free nights at a Wyndham Helltel (Wyndham’s motto: Many rooms now with toilets!”) for a weekend pilgrimage to Canton, OH, to visit the Pro Football HOF. Karen reveled in the abundant display of Bears history and memorabilia dating back to their origins as one of the founding professional football franchises and leading up to and including their present status as the laughingstock of the NFL.

In November, K & M hosted a Thanksgiving prelim when Leslie and Jayson paid a visit. Mark and Leslie somehow managed to assemble a traditional array of seasonal favorites without Sylvia looking over their shoulders, questioning their every move, and offering her disapproving glares. This test drive was followed two weeks later by Amanda's 25th birthday bash then actual Thanksgiving. Todd and family joined us for both events, after which everyone hit the road overstuffed and sleepy for their long drives home. So far, there have been no reports of food poisoning or missing persons.

Which leads us to the present day and all the pre-Christmas hullaballoo necessary to get us into the true spirit of the season which seems to revolve around unchecked consumerism and stressful familial obligations. (Not the least of which involves Karen requiring Mark’s company at the annual screening of the fourteen-hour-long Christmas classic It’s a Wonderful Life at our local cinema. Fortunately for Mark, they offer free refills on large buckets of popcorn, but sadly no alcohol.)

The divergent sentiments of this festive season are perhaps best captured by two quotes, one from humorist Erma Bombeck who wrote, “Adults can take a simple holiday for children and screw it up. What began as a presentation of simple gifts to delight and surprise children around the Christmas tree has culminated in a woman unwrapping six shrimp forks from her dog who drew her name,” and the other by Charlie Brown’s little sister, Sally, who said, “Christmas is getting all you can get while the getting is good.”

May you all lean-in to the season of your choosing.

Merry Christmas to All, and to All Good Grief,

Karen, Mark, Amanda, Ally, Maggie, and Scummy

2022 Layne Family Christmas Letter

The holiday season is for many a time of pause when we curl up in front of a warm fire with a hot cup of cocoa and watch snowflakes drift gently past the window while reflecting upon the fond memories and happy events of the year just passed. 

While such maudlin sentimentality may have a place in Hallmark movies and plaque psoriasis commercials, we will instead do our best to recount in this small space the unprecedented misery which befell our family during the preceding year.

2022 began as many years do with winter.  Shortly after ringing in the new year, Sylvia embarked upon an epochal change not seen on Earth since the end of Pangea. 

It commenced with her decision to vacate the family homestead in exchange for an independent living situation in her beloved Addison.  Touted as a cruise on land, her new home came complete with a park view, one bedroom, one bath, a beautiful, fully equipped kitchen, three meals per day in the onsite restaurant, a lounge with Friday happy hours, free transportation, activities galore, and friendly neighbors many of whom she knew from her days as a village trustee.  Naturally, she was miserable (Mark’s fault).  Nevertheless, we moved her in on March 1^st.  The house hit the market a month later, receiving five offers above asking the first day, mice and all. 

Not long after settling into her new digs, she was diagnosed with stage-four ovarian cancer which had metastasized throughout her torso, thus beginning several months of chemotherapy (probably also Mark’s fault).  Days before her last chemo treatment, she contracted COVID which she unsuccessfully tried to give to Mark. 

Speaking of the dreaded “c” word, Karen’s brother’s rare non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma returned with a vengeance after seven years in remission.  Forced into retirement at the ripe age of 56, Gary spent the fall months in CA at Stanford University receiving T-cell transplants and is now back at Northwestern in Chicago receiving additional immunotherapy treatments.  We all pray daily that the latest round will succeed.

In February, Mark was informed by his long-time wireless industry benefactors that his services were no longer needed.  This news coincided conveniently with several brilliant policy decisions on the part of the current administration in Washington which brought the economy to a screeching halt and an end to the once flourishing real estate appraisal business.

In May, the world lost one of the greatest Chicago sports fans of all time.  Following in the footsteps of Don, Al succumbed to sepsis at the hospital and made his transition into the light ten days into his 88^th year.  He is no doubt hanging out with the likes of Harry Caray, Bronco Nagurski, Ron Santo, and Walter Payton, commiserating over the fortunes of his beloved Cubs and Bears.

Speaking of great losses, while helping Sylvia pack for her move, Karen discovered the cremated remains of Don and Rob hiding in a cabinet in her living room.  Mark eventually persuaded Syl that her wish to spread them on the front lawn probably wasn't the most appropriate (or legal) way to commemorate their lives.  Although determined at first, she eventually relented, allowing Mark to arrange for a formal military funeral and interment on July 5th at the Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery in Elwood, IL (an hour or so south of Chicago).  Leslie, Jayson, Carol, Mark, Karen, the girls, and two of Don's closest friends attended.

  

The gang kicked off summer break with a trip to Gulf Shores, AL, by way of New Orleans.  The Big Easy didn't disappoint, fully living up to its reputation as the sewer of the US replete with multigenerational filth and the nation's highest per capita population of degenerate alcoholics.  The bulk of the trip was spent at a lovely resort in Gulf Shores where the girls got 3rd degree sunburns the first day and temperatures averaged three million degrees F with 170% humidity, forcing everyone to remain indoors for most of their stay.  The high and low of Mark's experience was visiting the USS Alabama on their way through Mobile which was offset by reticence on the part of the Navy to lob a few 16" shells into the French Quarter in the hopes of clearing out the riffraff. 

During summer, Mark landed a new wireless gig working remote for T-Mobile in MN.  He ably surmounted the language barrier thanks in no small part to the year he spent at the University of North Dakota where he became fluent in low Canadian – the dialect spoken in our northern border states and throughout Canada made fun of by Bob & Doug McKenzie and the film Fargo.  He now spends his off hours removing cat-size hair clogs from the bathtub drain, picking up dog poop, and teaching the deaf to see and the blind to hear. 

In late summer, Karen developed a nervous tick from her many years doing data entry, so accepted a position as parish administrator at a nearby Episcopal church.  Not having set foot in a church since the Crusades, her experience began with a degree of discomfort.  Often there alone, hidden away in her basement office, she often feels creeped-out which Mark attributes to the sixteen-foot tall, crucified Jesus looming in the chapel on the floor above.  She is nevertheless worshiped by the pastor and parishioners who beg her weekly not to quit.  The spookiness notwithstanding, she seems to enjoy her new role in what is a far more wholesome environment than her last out-of-the-house job with the DuPage Senior Citizens Council where every hour was happy hour.  It not only offers a welcome respite from her obsessive domestic proclivities but a break from Sparky who follows her around like an obsequious Taylor Swift groupie.

Speaking of Sparky, determined to dispel our belief that white dogs can’t jump, all were shocked during a fall a visit to Iowa when, quite without warning, he leapt over a concrete knee wall into the lower level of a parking garage adjacent to the Iowa City Arby’s.  Fortunately, the clueless creature was attached to his leash which played-out to its full length before jerking to a halt, arresting his freefall a couple feet shy of the garage floor, and depositing him sans harness at the bottom of the 8’ abyss where we found the great white dope running in panicked circles looking for Karen.  But for the grace of God and a foot or so of cord, and Maggie would have been an only pet, prompting Mark to add “longer leash” to his Christmas list.

Amanda continues to suffer the slings and arrows of her outrageous good fortune.  She often threatens to move out, but the specter of paying rent and living without free cable and daily maid service has proved too powerful a deterrence.  Going on year two in the marketing department at Moraine Valley CC, she spends her 12 weeks of paid vacation crisscrossing the globe to follow Greta Van Fleet while ever looking forward to scraping the gum of Illinois off her thick-soled, patent-leather boots for a warmer, cheaper, and less politically liberal climate.

In what the family now refers to as “The Many Follies of Amanda,” after impassioned warnings from Mark and Ally who reminded all of her disastrous experience with bird ownership when she was eight, Amanda ignored all sense and applied her practiced skills of incessant begging and nagging to coerce her mother into letting her buy a parakeet.  Other than all the noise, noise, noise Ally endured from the adjacent room, the warm months passed uneventfully.  But as temperatures dropped and we closed the windows for winter, Amanda was beset by such severe allergies we threatened to stab her to death with her own EpiPen.  In a repeat of history, Sammy now lives with Grandma Carol where he will eventually expire along with the rest of Amanda’s failed pet experiments and Karen’s unwanted home décor items and furniture.

Ally keeps herself shrouded in mystery. While home, she remains sequestered in her room behind closed doors.  We suspect she may either be a spy on the payroll of some foreign government or Spiderman.  Though well suited to a career in law enforcement owing to her secretive nature and ability to subsist on a diet of donuts and Dunkin iced coffee, she continues to pursue nursing, impressing naysayers with her stellar GPA.  Having spent equivalent to the gross national product of Guam the past two years, it is unclear whether the University of Iowa will figure into her fall 2023 plans.  Nevertheless, living in her first apartment has proved an eye-opening experience fraught with domestic peril but enhanced by the positive benefit of her learning to cook more than Taquitos and macaroni and cheese.  Although we hear tell of the many delicious meals she makes at school, we haven’t yet convinced her to repeat them at home… or change her socks.

In November, Sylvia decided it was time to give up driving lest she add vehicular homicide to her resume’.  The day after Thanksgiving, she sadly waved goodbye to her Lexus 350 GS, no doubt recalling the many good times she had running into and over anything that crossed her path.  Although it didn’t take long for her to adjust to losing the ability to drive around town endangering the lives of pedestrians whilst shopping for items she had ten of in her pantry, being deprived of her ready access to fast food has proved devastating (definitely Mark’s fault).  The dawn of her 90^th year on December 10^th found her off the streets, fully recovered from COVID, effectively cancer free, and trying to learn Door Dash.  (If there was a positive side to Sylvia’s illness, it was that we saw Leslie more frequently which gave Syl someone to point her finger at besides Mark.)

As we at last drive a stake through the heart of 2022 and look ahead to a hopefully less cataclysmic 2023, we are reminded of Woody Allen’s observation in Annie Hall that, “Life [is] full of loneliness, and misery, and suffering, and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly.”

A Heartfelt "Howdy Ho!" to All, and to All Good Grief

Karen, Mark, Amanda, Ally, Maggie, and the DWB (Dirty White Boy)