Dear Mr. S. Claus:
I understand your company is quite busy at this time of the year so I hope this letter reaches you before you start on your annual rounds. As usual, you may consider this my annual wish list.
My first request is that this year you make good on your most important visits; to children in need and adults in distress. Fine wishes alone cannot overcome hunger and poverty. Is there something in your always abundant bag that can help cure some of the ills of the world?
Then let me explain that I valued all the trinkets you or your assistants drop in my lap each December. I never grumbled the year I got a dozen pair of socks when I was hoping for a new set of car keys, or when those hoped-for plane tickets to Paris were replaced with the blue robe I am wearing now while writing to you.
Please don’t regard me as a Scrooge-like figure. But there is one item you can drop on someone else’s lap.
Last year, you gave me two more coffee cups. Thanks for nothing.
Our coffee tables seldom live up to their billing. They are littered with newspapers, books, magazines, grocery coupons, stray scraps of paper with mysterious phone numbers written on them and other assorted residue of life. There are coffee mugs here, but they contain pens, pencils, scissors, stray postage stamps, small flags, and a few paper clips.
In our in our house, it is unusual to see a cup of coffee on the coffee table. The first cup in the morning normally rests on a desk top on the right side of the computer monitor and across from the telephone. Later, A second cup can be found near the breakfast dishes and the morning paper in the kitchen. Usually, the same cup is used on both occasions. Waste not, want not.
So, please tell me why, in anyone’s name, are there 28 mugs of various colors and sizes, most with singular logos, pictures or inscriptions scattered throughout the cupboards, cabinets and shelves in our house?
Granted, this is not all your doing. You got me a cup with my name on it. Madame picked one up with her name on it in North Platte, Nebraska. There are three mugs with photos of our two adult grandchildren when they were little more than babes. There are cups from high school reunions, trip souvenirs and holiday celebrations. There are two with the “Park Forest” logo, and others have mysteriously migrated to our house over the years. Some were given as presents, usually with little trinkets or candies inside. I think a few must have flown in through an open window.
The most recent cup was given to us by The Son. It is from a Starbucks in Xian, China. The inside is the deep dark color of coffee and every now it causes me to over-pour. I could use some more paper towels this time, Santa.
There are even a few cups that never had any liquid in it, except a quick rinse when they arrived. I am not even counting three travel mugs (one so large it can only fit in the cup holder of an Army tank) and those little teacups that come with saucers. Sad to relate, but even a soup mug or two were used for coffee at one time or another. No one is perfect.
It was suggested by a friend that we build a display unit for the mugs you and your agents gave us, but showing a collection of coffee cups to friends is not what I consider a conversation starter. We recently tried to collect and store most of them in an out-of-the-way place. Nonetheless, within three weeks, nearly a dozen mugs were back in their accustomed places on shelves.
I understand you have more important things to do, Mr. C., and you can disregard my nit-picking if it takes away from your deliveries of hope and cheer. These cups are part of the everyday clutter of our lives and in less than three weeks we begin a new year; a measurable span always full of promise. I will think about that over another cup of coffee today.
As always, yours in hope for a better tomorrow today.
J.S.
