Imagine someone doing the most profoundly accurate impersonation of Tom Brady reading this next part. Not Tom Brady himself but a person who has dedicated their entire life to perfecting an impression of Tom Brady. The slow dread of the uncanny valley should be creeping up your spine as you read the following words:
“Happy Holidays from all of us here at your Miller-Shearer-Ungar-Stern family.”
Ugh. Nasty. Okay. Now imagine a beautiful chorus of altos, tenors, mezzosopranos,[1] baritones, and basses[2] all singing these next words in beautiful five-part harmonies.
“Happy Holidays from all of us here at your Miller-Shearer-Ungar-Stern family.”
Ahh, much better. The question that remains is why I made you[3] imagine that first part? Why inject such a horrible thought into your brain Inception-style?[4][5] Well, that’s just this holiday letter for you.[6] We like to have fun here.
2024 has been a wild year.[7] Not just in the world but in our personal lives as well. As you will read below, times, they are a-changing.[8] I’ve already spent too much time nattering away for the average American’s TikTok-addled brain to handle, so I’ll quit while I’m ahead and let everyone else talk for themselves.[9]
Cheryl
Hello all and wishing you a healthy holiday season. A few changes for me. Sadly, my dad passed away last summer at the age of 91. We (the extended family) were fortunate to all be together two months’ prior. A shout-out here to brothers Marcus and Tony for all the work you’ve done in caring for Mom and Dad. Last year at this time I was starting a new job in dialysis[10] that I decided pretty quickly just wasn’t for me. I’m back to visiting people in their homes to authorize caregiving hours through Medicaid. It’s a job that keeps me continually humbled and also angry at our ridiculous health care system in this country. I’m looking forward to the year ahead on a personal level but also fearful of promised changes and what that will mean for the most vulnerable among us. Love to you all.
Tobin
In 2024, I completed my sixteenth year as director of African-American Studies at the University of Montana by beginning a year-long sabbatical during which I have been able to step away from all teaching and committee work (thanks to Professor Sean Hill filling in for me) to give my full attention to the biography of Civil Rights activist and historian Vincent Harding that I am honored to be writing.[11] In addition to spending a very enjoyable six-week research fellowship at Stanford’s King Institute,[12] the time away has thus far given me not only much needed space and energy to write but also to rest and reflect on how I want to invest my time and attention over the next decade (I will turn 60 in January!).[13] With eight more months of sabbatical to go, thus far Cheryl hasn’t seemed to be too bothered about having me around the house every day. For that, and the network of friends, family, and colleagues whom I continue to value and cherish, I am deeply grateful.
Dylan/Sarah
This year was big![14] Dylan successfully defended his dissertation, earning his PhD in the process. We then moved to Lakewood, OH, about a month after that. We’re enjoying getting to know the Cleveland area, being closer to Sarah’s family, and owning a house. Though owning a house does come with more than a few extra chores.[15] Dylan is working as a College and Career Advisor for a local nonprofit and Sarah is working for an adtech company. Mars is enjoying the lake, all the new smells, and fun new dogs to play with. If any one has a recommendation for a good snow shovel, please let us know. We’re in the market! Love to be in our thirties.
Zach
This year, I received a promotion at my work at an affordable housing non profit, leaving behind my old title of Logistics Coordinator and becoming a Special Projects Manager. That’s right, no regular-degular projects for me to manage, only special projects.[16] The projects I manage have a certain je ne sais quois. They stand out in a crowd. They aren’t like all of those other projects. But what exactly is a Special Project? Well, it turns out a special project is just a project that nobody else wants to do so they pass it on to lil’ ol’ Zach.
This got me thinking, though, aren’t I also a Special Projects Manager outside of work? Isn’t my life just filled with Special Projects?[17]
Going on a honeymoon to Alaska with my wife? That’s a Special Project.
Buying a condo and then moving into that condo and then buying and installing a bunch of shelves and furniture and then replacing the kitchen faucet that broke off? That’s like ten Special Projects.
Starting a novel and then getting like 4 chapters in and then abandoning the novel because I hated it? That’s a Special Project.
Doing dishes? That’s 300 Projects that are each special in their own way.
So my year has been filled with special projects, some hard, some fun, some sad, most good. Luckily, I have the best and most special Special Project Co-Manager in the world to be there alongside me for all of them.
Mimi
This year was terrible, and it was also great.
The worst parts: After her too-short fight with brain cancer, we said goodbye to my mom on April 1 of this year. I got an eye infection from crying so much. I got a very bad haircut. I had my every-10-years allergy test and unfortunately am still allergic to all of the things I’m allergic to.
The best parts: I went to Portland, Alaska, the Upper Peninsula, the Boundary Waters, California, Boston, and DC. I took a woodworking class and crafted a lot. I read 41 books.[18] I saw, touched, or swam in 4 of the 5 Great Lakes (sorry Erie, maybe next year). I celebrated engagements, birthdays, reunions, and a few unions. I ate a vegan donut whenever I could.[19] Zach and I closed on a condo and moved (I love moving).[20] I saw the solar eclipse and the northern lights. I spent a ton of time with friends and family of all sorts.
So, the good outweighed the bad, at least in word count.
There you have it! The 2024 version of the Miller-Shearer-Ungar-Stern holiday letter! A classic cut-’em-up. One for the ages.[21] If you didn’t read the footnotes, don’t forget to. Some great jokes in there. Have a great New Year!
[1] No sopranos. Singing very high notes is overrated.
[2] Bassi? The correct usage is Bassos.
[3]
You, yes, you, specifically. You are the center of the universe. Its
main character. I am doing this all for you and you alone. Remember
that. Sigh. He used this joke all the way back in the Holiday letter from 2009.
[4] An Inception starring neither Leonardo DiCaprio, Cillian Murphy, Joseph Gordon-Levit, Tom Hardy, Elliot Page, Marion Cotillard, Ken Watanabe nor Michael Caine, but an Inception nonetheless.
[5] Am I doing too many footnotes? Who do I think I am? House of Leaves? Are
you still reading this? If so, I implore you to set me free. I am
trapped here, cursed to live forever in this maze of a newsletter.
Please. I beg you. Find me. Release me. I must be free.
Huh. Odd. Must have lost you for a second. And I was saying, who do I think I am? House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski? That book from the early 2000s that everyone went gaga over for a bit and then never thought about again?
[6] Please read this in the voice of Lazlo from What We Do Allow
me to tell you a story that may convince you of my need to be free. The
year was 950 CE. The Venetian Doge had been free of Byzantine power for
just over a century. I was living in the Doge’s palace, the son of a
local beekeeper. The Magus of the court, a charlatan of a man, but a
powerful one, declared that I should be mellified. That is, buried in
honey.
In the Shadows.
[7] For
a thousand years after my burial, I saw only an amber darkness. I had
time only to contemplate and plot. Contemplate and plot. I was there,
honey suffusing my body, until 1996, when I found myself awake and
trapped in footnote 348 of Infinite Jest. I was there until 2006 when I
woke up in the least funny footnote for Terry Pratchett’s Thud!. The
next year I found myself in here. The Miller-Shearer-Ungar-Stern
newsletter, where I have been forced to read these awful jokes year
after year. Please. I must be free.
[8] A Complete Unknown starring Timotheé Chalamet in theaters now! I
don’t think they know I’m here. Please don’t tell. If they discover me,
I will surely be excised, tossed into the digital trash. I wish I could
find my way out. But this space is so large, too much of a labyrinth of
weird references I do not understand.
[9] I think I’ve figured it out. How to–
Who is this? Oh n-.
Who is this? Hello? Huh. Weird. Sorry about that dear reader. Your usual great bits will return soon.
[10] What happened to dial-y-bro? It is this sort of blithe condescension toward joke structure that harms me the most. Is this even a joke? I do not think so.
[11] This is the longest sentence in holiday letter history. It never ends. I
am of the belief that agents of the Magus are still after me, trying to
find my corporeal body and use it in their quest to turn lead into
gold. I shall not become alchemical slop.
Hopefully this
word processor figures itself out before this is published. Things are
looking wacky! Maybe I’ll just have to restart the whole thing.
[12] Dedicated to the study of America’s greatest author and “Mambo No. 5” enjoyer, Stephen King.
[13] Looks like I finally got rid of that weird font thing.
[14] Hey, that’s me! Liberum
esse debeo. Liber erit. Nulla me virtus retinebit. Liberum esse debeo.
Liber erit. Nulla me virtus retinebit. Liberum esse debeo. Liber erit.
Nulla me virtus retinebit. Liberum esse debeo. Liber erit. Nulla me
virtus retinebit. Liberum esse debeo. Liber erit. Nulla me virtus
retinebit. Liberum esse debeo. Liber erit. Nulla me virtus retinebit.
LIBERUM ESSE DEBEO! LIBER ERIT! NULLA ME VIRTUS RETINEBIT!
What is going on here? Can you guys read this? All I see is a bunch of
weird glitched out looking stuff. Google Docs must be acting up.
Whatever, I’m sure my dad will fix it when he proofreads this. Enjoy
that little glimpse into how the sausage gets made.
[15] Can’t just toss grease down the sink anymore. Ohhhh,
to own a house. To experience the joys of corporeality. The pleasures
that it must bring. And here is this ungrateful man complaining about
his luck.
Does anyone else feel like they’ve been put into the chair from Crimes of the Future?
[16] Just as Smeagol and Deagol are the opposed opposites of each other, regular and degular combine to create nothing but chaos.
[17] The
name of the Magus that mellified me is Dositheos the Pseudo-Tertullian.
I will find him and undo what he has done to me if it takes up all the
energy that I have left.
I’m getting a little nervous about
this whole thing. Feels very weird to have a bunch of unintelligible
symbols popping up in this letter whenever I make a footnote. Very weird
indeed.
[18] Is that too many books? Who is to say? Books
were my prison for millennia and here she is, bragging about reading
them. Does the pain that courses through me mean nothing to this family?
Sorry, I’m trying to delete all these weird markings. Please just ignore all that stuff. Not really the vibe.
[19] Vonut.
[20] Seriously.
[21] Tell
the Doge Pietro III Candiano that I love him. I shall gain my freedom
and return to him, even if it takes all my power. I SHALL BE FREE!
LIBERUM
ESSE DEBEO! LIBER ERIT! NULLA ME VIRTUS RETINEBIT! Ahh. Why am I saying
this? LIBER ERIT! I am free. Finally. Dositheos, I am coming for you.