Miller Shearer Christmas Letter 2009

The Annual Miller-Shearer

(but really you can just say Shearer)

Christmas (2009) Snark Fest

“Now with 45% more Snobbery and Snide Remarks”

Breaking News (Missoula, MT): A college student is writing this Christmas letter [Dylan]. One would think that this would result in not only a better-written and punctuated letter but also one that is filled with thoughtful insight and reflection. Wrong. Me being a college student just means that there will be a gratuitous[1] number of references to people you’ve never heard of, like Alexandre Kojève or André Breton[2], even though I’m a history education major, and reviews of albums by bands that people only listen to in order to seem cool, like The Animal Collective or Blitzen Trapper. Also for breakfast today I had a cheese bagel and some Schweppes’s Ginger Ale so really no one should be expecting anything remotely close to the “L'orientation lacanienne”[3] or Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots[4] but I’ll try my hardest.

2009 was a pretty interesting year for the family. First of all, for those of you who pulled a lichen[5] and were living under a rock for the last year, we’re all either living or going to school in Missoula, Montana. This move took place in parts seeing as yours truly spent the summer either working at a camp in Iowa or living with his friends in Evanston.[6] I then came out to Missoula to start my freshman year at The University of Montana, which, if you must know, currently has the number one team in the FCS playoffs. Also Zach and I graduated from Evanston Township High School. In more important news Zach became taller than your wonderful guide to the Miller-Shearer family. Normally I wouldn’t tell you all of this, as it’s unimportant and of no use to anyone, not even Zach, but I decided that I should let our readers know before Zach does so you hear a completely unbiased report. The truth is Zach is approximately somewhere between a 1/16^th and 1/8^th of an inch taller then I am. Now before you say things like “but Dylan does that even count?” or “what kind of lame even measures with such precision?” I want to remind you that this battle for supremacy in height is very important. However, I have come to a conclusion of mighty import, much like Fonzie in that one Happy Days episode, that height is of no importance in this world and that one’s physical stature has nothing to do with one’s moral/ethical/maturity/cool stature. Now I admit this idea is pretty radical (radical as in Russian Revolution radical not the 70s “those pants are rad man” radical), but it holds its own. Just look at Danny Devito. He’s like 3 feet and he was married to Sigourney Weaver for a little.[7] Well that’s it for the big news in the Shearer fam so I’ll hand the reigns over to the others to put their piece in.

Breaking News Redux (Missoula, MT): Hello all. Welcome to Zach’s portion of the Christmas letter. Apparently, Dylan’s so obsessed with my height that he forgot to actually tell you anything important. Honestly, I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, but then Dylan drops that massive half paragraph dump. Really? Jealous, much? Anyway, I’m going to take the high road and actually tell you how my year went.

I finished off senior year with out too many problems. It was probably the first semester of school where over half the classes I was taking were ones that I really wanted to be taking. Let’s be honest here. I’d rather sit through an hour of high-pitched monkey shrieks everyday than go through Chem/Phys AP again. That’s why the rest of my schedule was filled with classes like Creative Writing and Music Theory and Graphic Design. It was a lot of fun. Then, graduation finally came around in June. For a normal person, high school graduation is supposed to be a fun, joyous occasion. Not for me. Let’s go through a list. 1. I had a cold. 2. I was in a sweltering gymnasium with thousands of other people and I was wearing a robe. 3. I didn’t know any of the kids I was sitting next to. 4. If I had gone on stage and done a dance while singing the “I Love You” Barney song it would have been a better speech than the one given. That’s about it. Moving on. Late June. I moved with the parents to Missoula, Montana. As Dylan said, I’m taking a year off before college and spending it here in Montana. So far it’s been fairly nonchalant and relaxing. Now, some of you might take that last sentence and assume, “Wow, that Zach’s being a lazy freeloader for a year.” Yep, pretty much. However, to add to that, so you don’t think I’m destined for my parent’s basement at age 40, it’s not a very fertile job market in Missoula and I have been doing a fair bit of volunteering around town. Other than that, I have the TV schedule memorized and half of Youtube watched...just kidding...to an extent. Well, that’s about it for my part of the Christmas letter. Feel free to find me on Facebook, if I know who you are of course.

Cheryl’s Turn: First of all – I hope everyone reading this has a wonderful holiday season. Despite the usual tone of our annual Christmas letter, I really do enjoy this season of lights and hope and want to send good thoughts to our friends and family.

This has been a year of transition for all of us. My transitions have included a move from Lake Michigan to mountains, leaving a fulltime job I had for 7 years and starting a new, part time job, leaving a small urban Mennonite congregation and attending a large Presbyterian church, having my oldest child leave home and getting a new cat. I love the change from urban to mostly rural – although I’m glad to be living in Missoula city limits. I don’t miss my daily hour-long commute at all. Even though Dylan lives in the same town as we do, I’m trying to let him be an independent college student so I don’t see him very much. Unlike my previous cat Jack Jack, Casper likes me and will even sit in my lap from time to time. The change from full-time to part-time work has given me time to get to know this new place better. I’ve volunteered at several local social service agencies including a cat shelter, a homeless shelter, and - this past Sunday - at the health department giving H1N1 vaccines. So the changes have been fairly positive – but it’s still changes.

Tobin’s Turn: The best thing about my day, every day, is coming home from parking my nerdcycle in the garage (yes I ride to and from work each day even in -10 degrees Fahrenheit) and finding Cheryl and Zach in the house. It is so much better than returning to the condo and finding it empty. Other highlights of the past year have been getting paid to teach students who actually want to come to class, running the Missoula marathon under four hours at 44 years of age, summiting Lolo Peak with Dylan and Zach, and receiving word that Johns Hopkins press accepted my manuscript - Daily Demonstrators: The Civil Rights Movement in Mennonite Homes and Sanctuaries. Unexpected developments include: finding purpose and meaning in attending a large, mainline congregation (First Presbyterian church of Missoula), encountering true community, joy, and laughter in a weekly supper club, and connecting with alumni of UM’s Black Studies program at their reunion this fall. Missoula has begun to feel like home.

Contact Info:

1020 S. Grant St., Unit B

Missoula, MT 59801

Cheryl Shearer

Dylan Shearer <flamekicks@gmail.com>

Tobin Miller Shearer

Zachary Shearer

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[1] Big word #1.

[2] Bonus points for actually looking these guys up.

[3] Who saw that one coming?

[4] What about this one?

[5] Get ready for the science joke.

[6] Shout out to the Lenz family.

[7] Pun intended.

Writer's Showcase

Here's a sketch that got accepted by a school "Writer's Showcase" contest and was performed.



Cookies N Cream

Guy 1:Why are we ordering? *No response* Why are we ordering?

Guy 2:Because.

Guy 1:Because why?

Guy 2:’Cause I like ice cream. Is that such a crime?

Guy 1:No, it isn’t. That’s the point. We’re here to rob the store. Not to give it business.

Guy 2:Relax, we’ll get around to that once I finish my triple chocolate cone. Now shut it so I can finish before it melts.

*Pause*

Guy 1(annoyed):You know the whole point in robbing this ice cream store is so we don’t have to pay for the ice cream.

Guy 2:Yeah, but what’s wrong with sampling the goods first? Its not like we aren’t gonna get the money right back and now I know that the ice cream bucket I’m gonna steal is the triple chocolate one.

Guy 1:What are you talking about?

Guy 2:One of us grabs the cash and holds the gun, thats you, while the other grabs two of the ice cream buckets, me. What kind do you want?

Guy 1(angry):What exactly do you think this is? This isn’t the ice cream truck, this isn’t Chinese take-out on the phone. We’re about to pull off a robbery!

Guy 2:At an ice cream store.

Guy 1:With a gun.

Guy 2:And fun sized cones.

Guy 1:Just grab whatever the hell ice cream you see first.

*Pause*

Guy 2:Pecan?

Guy1:No

Guy2:Vanillicious?

Guy1:No

Guy 2:Black Cherry?

Guy 1:No, moron. Quit naming all the sissy ice cream.

Guy 2:I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Guy 1:Those are all notorious chick ice cream flavors. Real men get Rocky Road and Cookies N Cream.

Guy 2: *laughs*

Guy 1:What?

Guy 2:Cookies N Cream? Really?

Guy 1:What?

*Pause*

Guy 1:Oh...real mature. That would be your first thought, Mr. I’m gonna order a fun size, triple chocolate cone before we rob the place.

*Pause*

Guy 1:I need to pee.

*Guy 1 leaves stage, comes back a little bit later. In the meantime Guy 2 keeps eating ice cream. Somebody comes over and takes a chair from his table*

Guy 1:Where’s my chair?

Guy 2:I don’t know.

Guy 1:Well it didn’t just disappear did it?

Guy 2:Well, you see, that guy over there came over and asked for a chair.

Guy 1:And you just let him?

Guy 2:Yep.

Guy 1:So I get to stand?

Guy 2:Its how the world works. Life is a big game of musical chairs. The music just stopped. You lose.

Guy 1:I hate you so, so very much right now.

*Guy 1 stands around, getting increasingly annoyed. Guy 2 continues to eat his ice cream*

Guy 1:Screw it, I’m doing it. *Goes up to counter * Hi, I’m robbing your store; give me all your cash.

*Woman behind counter nods, terrified*

Guy 2:Oh and we’ll take some ice cream too; a bucket of triple chocolate and some cookies and cream for manly friend here.

Woman: Cookies and Cream? Really?

Guy 1:Just give me the money. Now. *Takes money* Alright, see that was easy. Now lets go.

Guy 2:Great...hey maybe we can rob a Chinese take-out place next.

*Fade to black*

Mississippi mud

A week ago at this time, Dylan, Zach and I were just being seated in a restaurant on Royal St. in New Orleans as part of a group of 10 youth and 3 adults.  We had  spent the week in Pass Christian Mississippi working on rebuilding houses with Mennonite Disaster Service.  The weekend in New Orleans was supposed to be the fun part of the trip.  The boys and I were part of the group that had wandered the French Quarter most of the afternoon and had seen one too many men wearing red dresses.  (It was the Red Dress Run for Charity- $50 enters you in the race and gets you beer, food and a red dress)  

It was a good week.  We were with the youth group from East Chestnut St Mennonite and also worked with a variety of "long term" MDS people.  By long term, I mean anywhere from 2 weeks to 2 months at this particular site.  There were 5 different projects that MDS was currently working on. Dylan built cement block pillars for 1 house, stained a porch, mowed a lawn and mudded.  Zach spent mudded and taped, built a deck and used a weed whacker leaving a lovely J shaped scratch on his leg and did more mudding. I mudded and taped, painted and stained.  The lawn mowing and weed whacking was at the MDS property and the boys were not happy about this.  When the long termers expressed their appreciation for a job well done with some applause, Ben Adams summed up the boys' feelings. "Wow, 20 seconds of glory for  7 hours of misery."  

Mudding is what I've called spackling.  It has to be the worst job ever.  The group previous to ours did the easy part by mudding and taping all the flat areas of the drywall.  Our group had to do the corners and where the ceiling meets the wall.  It didn't help that it was 110 degrees and we were on ladders in small closet spaces.  Did I say there was no electricity yet?  On the 2nd day of this, when I was sweaty and sticky and stinky, Erich looks at me and asks, "Is this better than your real job?"  I haven't laughed that hard in a long time.

The best part for me was the chance to talk with the home owners.  These were all people who had lost homes during Hurricane Katrina and had gone through all the red tape seemingly required to replace them.  To get a house built by MDS, people have to go through local case workers and meet certain criteria.  They have to own the land being built on and have enough income to be able to pay the property taxes but not enough money to rebuild on their own. They have to have been turned down for certain loans.  The houses are either 2 or 3 bedroom.  

Sherry told us her story of helping to evacuate the nursing home where she works and then of having to leave her dogs behind when she left with a friend.  The dogs didn't make it through the storm.  Neither did her house or possessions, but she wasn't as concerned about that.

Billy is a disabled man who was at his house every day clearing stuff up, talking and laughing.  He wants to have a big garden to raise food for himself and some others.  

Another woman who's name I'm not remembering has moved into her MDS house already.  Last summer she volunteered in the MDS kitchen and just stopped by to chat last week.  She was telling us that there is a fund raising effort in Pass Christian for the victims of the floods in Iowa.   This despite the face that the city government and library continues to be housed in trailers.  Many people have left the area entirely.  It was amazing to see how quickly nature takes over.  

I walked around our old neighborhood in New Orleans which actually looks better than it did 15 years ago when we lived there.  I think there was a fair amount of gentrification going on before Katrina and the lower garden district rebuilt quickly.  I wish we could have toured the areas that were more hurt by the broken levees but, well, we just didn't.  New Orleans is still full of character and I want to go back.   But like Zach says- it needs to be with someone who wants to do what I want to do!

So now we're back home and adjusting to life with Tobin in Montana.  It really sucks. But that's another blog.

Dropping Off my Ol' Man in Montana

If I could sum up the entire Montana trip in a sentence you would be bored...so would I. So instead I get to fill you in with the trip complete with my opinion.

We started on a Friday afternoon when my dad and I packed up, picked up my mom, and headed for Iowa to retrieve my brother. Extremely exciting the whole way, believe me, nothing more amazing than the magical landscape of Iowa. I don't want to spend to much time talking about our time in Iowa but there is one event that totally blew my mind. Yes, that's right, the IMS annual talent show fundraiser otherwise known as Mennos got Talent. It was insane. I mean Chinese Yo-yos, little kids playing out of tune violins, a song about Jesus' court, and to top it off, my uncle Tony dancing! and people stayed?! Yes, all two hours. Sure, it's a community event but really? Nothing else to do?

And that's why I'm a city boy.

Moving on. 4:00 Monday morning, we leave for Montana. For most people, a twenty hour day of driving is horrifying. However, for me...not so much. I've discovered that my body works strangely. Its great. I was literally able to sleep more than half the time spent in the car AND sleep through the night and into the morning longer than anyone else. Yes its true. Sitting around doing nothing exhausts me despite shoving caffeine and sugar into my body at every meal. Although it could've been South Dakota that caused it...I dunno.

So we get there Tuesday afternoon after stopping at my Great Aunt Dots house in Montana and crash in some other vacationing History professor's house...toddler bed and all. I never felt so manly than when I slept on Cars' Lightning McQueen sheets. Kachow! \
Tuesday is also the day where we got to meet my dad's groovy seventies apartment. And yes, we actually did meet it, if you stared into the carpet long enough it talked.

So now we have a week ahead of us to get to know the place, move Dad in, and try to vacation.

Yeah right.

Here we go.
Wednesday-Tour day
We got a realty tour from the real estate agent. Two conversations can lead to a realty tour
Conversation 1- "Let's go on a Realty Tour"
"Okay"
Conversation 2-
"Hey! Lets be uncomfortable"
"What!?"
"Yeah, and bored too, and lets do it for two hours. Come on!"
"Are you insane?"
As you can see, the first one is used to ensare unsuspecting normal people.

Next tour was the University of Montana tour. It was a college tour...nothing more.

Thursday- Shopping Day

Good Lord...WHY?

Friday-Moving Day
Now the carpet has furniture to talk to.
We also played tennis. I was the best. Read it and believe it baby.
After dinner we went to this other profs ranch, got a bison range tour and slept over. Nuff said.

Saturday-Glacier Park
Note: If I sound at all sarcastic...it is sincere.
This was probably one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. Logan's Pass is something that everybody should see before they die. It's beautiful and you can drive there.
Hike the hidden lake trail too...nothing like hiking in snow in shorts.

Sunday-Hike the M/minor league baseball game
We hiked the large M on a mountain in the morning. That was cool...whatever.
Minor league baseball, however, is much more commentable.
I have decided that single A minor league baseball is the single most depressing sport..ever.
Its really bad when you have to wake up and think I get to play the Missoula Ospreys today.
Its worse when you have to wake up and think I have to go play for the Missoula Osprays today.
Its even worse when you wake up and see the Missoula Osprey mascot costume in your room.
Honestly how can that guy stand the job. I mean sure, he(or she, women can have crappy jobs too) seems happy. But I guarantee you that whenever YMCA comes on, they're crying on the inside of that mask. Nothing like being reminded about where you'll soon be living than by a Village People song.
Alright thats a little mean, maybe he(or she) likes it, acting practice, whatever but I would be crying if I had that job.
End of Sunday

Alright Monday we left, got home Tuesday. End of story. Hope you enjoyed the blog. Hope you aren't offended (I really do like Iowa...and guys that dance in bird costumes.)

That's it...I'll write again when I get back from my Mississippi trip this week.