This past Christmas, we chose to tackle Christmas letters for the first time. Since the bulk of my written correspondence occurs over email and this blog, the act of blowing an entire ink cartridge printing, and then spending hours gathering addresses, stuffing envelopes, etc. seems asinine. However, I know how much we enjoy getting “real” letters in the mail, and how much more meaningful it is than an email, so, now that it’s done, I can definitely say I’m glad we did it.
In the weeks that followed, Tara and I relished the comments that trickled in: “We got your Christmas letter, thank you!”, “It was so funny!”, “Loved the letter!”, an so forth. It was not until a few days ago that it was brought to our attention that, due to some joking about my sperm in the letter, some recipients may now be under the impression that we are either: a.)Pregnant, b.)Trying to get pregnant, or c.)Having trouble getting pregnant. The misunderstanding stems from the opening paragraph:
In an effort to make my first Christmas letter unique, I was brainstorming all the things people do to make these letters more fun. Some write in the perspective of a beloved pet, others in the perspective of the baby. Since we have no pets, and certainly no kids, I wanted to write in the perspective of my sperm, but Tara was having none of that.
And the salutation at the end:
Andrew, Tara, Andrew’s Sperm
I was taken aback to hear this news. I had thought the joke had been completely clear, but it seemed people had forgotten about the joke in the opener by the time they got to the closing, and my little “tie-it-all-together” trick had failed, leaving the reader interpreting the closing as an abstract way of suggesting that we are attempting to procreate.
Admittedly, I can see where the misunderstanding comes from, and being directly descended from a man who one year had virtually everyone on his mailing list fearing that he an my mother were getting a divorce due to a small, passing joke, I’m not at all surprised that I made a similar blunder. Ever since my poetry and literature classes of freshman year of college, searching for metaphors and symbolism in written works and movies has been one of my pastimes. Therefore, I find it particularly amusing and ironic that I tend to miss some of my own metaphors that I inadvertently create.
Therefore, hoping that most of those that came away from our Christmas Letter with this interpretation have been trolling this blog ever since seeking updates, I’m going to attempt to straighten things out. We are not pregnant, not trying, and therefore, not having trouble. If, in a FEW YEARS, we do have that news to share in our Christmas Letter, look for the following code words:
New member of the family
Preparing a room in the house
It’s a boy!!
It’s a girl!!
In the mean time, we’ll just be practicing.