Hello my friends. what you are about to read is my Christmas letter to my family.



Peace



December 25, 2004



This will be a different type of Christmas letter. This letter is addressed to everyone, though I will have it sectioned off. I thought about this holiday season. I think about it now. I think about how this season is about family, about compassion, about sacrifice, about birth, about beginnings, about endings. I think of the years with which I have been blessed, remembering as a child that I was certain that I would die at an early age. It was ideal for me to dream about that for I saw myself fighting against injustices like Dr. Martin Luther King, seeing no other escape except tragedy. I do not have this dream anymore. I want to continue to live, though I am not afraid of death (most days); I want to see my daughter grow; I want to see my family through these times; I want to continue to mature with Tessin by my side; etc.



I feel reflectively sad this holiday season. We have built a world so entrenched in commercialism that we’ve loss all sense of meaning and purpose. I see the anger on faces everywhere; they’ve traded their “heroes for ghosts,” and exchanged “a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage.” I have never felt this level of anger before, not the anger within me, but within the faces I pass by, the faces that cannot register a hint of a smile to a stranger, never realizing that this stranger, that stranger is a brother or sister. We are all connected. We are all alone. Now, before I hear the rush of religious defenses exclaiming, “You are not alone. God is with you.” I just want to remind you that even Jesus acknowledged his aloneness and loneliness. He realized the cure, though, he connected to people and by doing this he kept in contact with God. I want to see God through the big silly delicious smile of a daughter; through the voiceless pain of a father who has had to start over; through a mother whose emotional pain is revealed through her physical woes; through a sister who has branched into the adult world, no longer a running five year old hopping into my arms; through another sister who has taken punches from Life’s best Struggles and who has integrated the true lesson of love: no boundaries; through a brother whose fought demon after demon, never quitting, never following the voices of the Sirens, though their luscious lies are seductive; through a wife who knows more about belief and forgiveness than most professed holy people, whose love sees the gestalt, the whole. I am reminded of these things on this day. It is when I realize all of this love around me that I see God in all His complexity, all his majesty. It is then that my images come:



“From the people that do the work

From the people that sing the song

From the people that live the life

And from the people that get along

And a bottle of rum.

From the demon that always lurk

From the demon that do me wrong

From the fury that is my love

And from the struggle that is my song.



From the world in which I live

From the world I love so well

From the world of change and life

And from the Lord of which I tell

And a bottle of rum.

From the feelings I cannot give

From the feeling my fears impel

From the screams of a fright filled night

From the time what is spent in hell.



From the pleasure I’ve had before

From the pleasure I am to know

From the pleasure my dreams provide

And from the pleasure I can bestow

And a bottle of rum.

From the trouble that’s at my door

From the trouble where e’er I go

From the misfortune I abide

And from the courage I’m trying to show.



Oh, it get me down sometime. It get me down but only

A little look around and I find that I am not so lonely.

We are in the same boat brother

We are in the same boat sister

And my images come”



Now to each of you.



Roy

I wish you could be here this year, my brother. I sure do miss you. The you we knew as kids, in all your rebellious and loving big brother way. I think about that every once in while. I would think of it more, but it causes an allergic reaction: my eyes get watery, I get shivers, and my throat closes in on me. But every once in a while, it’s worth having that reaction. The reward is great.



I’m glad you are at a better place right now than you were some months ago. It does my heart well to know that you are seeking to find yourself, and I hope you do. I hope that you understand God in spirit, not image. Question everything. Some people would have you believe that the Bible exists in order to close off discussions (i.e., “God said it, I believe it, that settles it” mentality). I tend to believe that the Bible, at the very least is there to broaden and open up discussions. Understand the words in their context, and do not be like so many people today who claim God, but see not love. Do not become like them. You are beautiful as is. Realize your beauty and become who you are supposed to be. I say this to you, I say this to me.

How strange. We are into our 30s and now you’ve spent more years away from my life than together. You left home for the Navy when you were 17, you are now 35. We’ve had our brief moments of time since then, but I wish for that day when you and I will laugh at all that was, and play a baseball game again with cards and tin foil, with me beating your butt again and again. Soon I hope. Soon. I don’t the future and we’ve wasted so much time already. Let us not live with regrets. Let us throw off all which hold us back from being fully realized. I send you love.



Michele

I know I’ve told you this before, but I will share it again. When I’m performing on stage and have to go through some emotional rigors in some of my characters there are times when I bring back memories of some of your pain . . . I use this pain to stir up the depths of sentiment I need to pull off whatever character I’m displaying. I think of all the crazy things as kids we experienced. I think about how close we’ve always been; how deeply troubled I feel when we have a tension in our relationship; how hard-headed you are sometimes; how right I always am . . . wink. Wink. I realize that your headiness is a positive mechanism for you. It helps you survive. You were the first girl in the family, given little voice without taking it for yourself, and so you took it.



You know what? I still cringe when I think about your arrival back from Jamaica when you were younger. The very first day you came back we were so happy to see each other, (I don’t know where Roy was), and we were playing make-believe something. Who knows? But you were so excited you started running and cracked your head on the corner of a wall. I remember the panic I felt. I remember thinking that I might not see you again. I remember feeling guilty, thinking that it was my fault. I was so happy when you were stitched up. I felt so protective of you. I still do.



I remember when you had pneumonia. I remember that kid Eric and his thumb tacks on your seat. (I would personally torture him today! Umm . . . with the love of the Lord, of course.) I remember the pain you would later feel by the double standard (gender-wise) in our home. I remember other pains as well . . .



I remember the loneliness you felt when I went away to college, and I want you to know that I felt it as well. It killed me to know that I couldn’t be there physically for you in some of your darkest hours, but I was always there. Always. I remember how we laugh so freely with each other. How all I need to say is “tingle, tingle,” and you lose it. And most importantly, I love how real I can be with you, nothing is sacred. I love that. And I love you.



Dad

I hear your voice in my voice. Whenever I speak to Saskia I hear you, Dad. It’s a powerful feeling. Your blood it courses through my veins. Tessin claims that some of my faces are your faces. I suppose that’s why they call it genetics, right? I am happy that you never believed in quitting. I am not sure I would be where I am today if I had a father who gave up at every crossroads. You have taught me discipline and as the years have gone on, I’ve had the beautiful opportunity to see your vulnerability as well, and it brings me joy. Not because you feel vulnerable, but because vulnerability is a human facet. It completes us. We are changed into full beings when we make our selves vulnerable. After all, Christianity is based on such a principle. Without vulnerability we would never acknowledge God’s grace, power, or love.

I understand things now that you could never explain to me. I had to experience them for myself. I look back and see a man who was driven to never fail, and you didn’t, Dad. Even when you made mistakes, you bounced back, you grew. I cannot expect anything else from you. I have watched you grow as a man, a father, a fellow traveler, and the journey, though painful at times, has been magnificent to watch.



I hope this coming year will bring you more peace, whatever the outcomes may be. I think about the million of black males who have never known their father, and I stand humbled. I think about the million of people who have never been told to believe in their dreams, and I hear your voice telling me that I’m just as smart, and that defeat is only in the concession. These are the things I will most remember. And without doubt, I know that I love you richly.



Mom

“My mom is such a beautiful soul that she even makes the flowers smile.” And with those words, I inform my audiences everywhere about the powerful influence you have had on my life. Your love WOWs me all the time. I think back to those days when you worked with the mentally challenged (the mental retardation population). I remember how they scared me, how uncomfortable I was when I would go with you to pick up your check. Their difference frightened me, until I saw how comfortable you were around them. You never flinched, nor acted as if they were any different from me. You spread so much love to them. I feel like a fake at times, because when I look at my love in comparison to yours, I feel small. Your love is like great earth, mine is only a mound of dirt. To love like you love, Mom, will be a lifelong process for me. You show love even when you are uncomfortable. It may take you time to become comfortable, but you still love. Thank you for passing this on to me.



I am a lucky person knowing that I have a mother who would have begged on her knees to save her son; a mother who’s been emotionally beat down, but still she rises; a mother who accepts the way things are and tries to change what she can; a mother who has delivered more of God’s voice in her silence, than one thousand ministers who fill churches and television stations with holy rhetoric, rhetoric that clangs with emptiness.



I am better because of you, Mother. I am better because of your love, and it is with this love I shower you today.



Little Boo

I mentioned it earlier, but I still have images of you coming off your Kindergarten bus and running into my arms. It tickles me to replay the images of you bouncing up the stairs and bouncing along the wall. I remember you sleeping and I would whisper the words, “Doo doo. Bathroom. Poo poo,” and when you would wake I would ask you what you dreamt about and you would tell me that you had a weird dream about going to the bathroom. I was so proud of myself.



I remember the days in college when I felt depressed. I would call home and hearing your little voice made me smile. I was at peace.



And then I remember getting into a fight with this girl in Bellingham because she said bad stuff about you. That was the one thing I couldn’t tolerate. I couldn't let anyone harm you in any way. I still feel that way. I know you are an adult now (whatever that means), but I am so protective of you, maybe to a fault, but I don’t think so. I’m not unrealistic about it. I accept the fact that you will one day probably get married (when you’re 36) and have kids right around that time. O.K., maybe not, but you get the point.



I feel somewhat responsible for the way you see life. I like that. I like the fact that we can have talks about art films without ending up feeling disconnected.



I like how sensitive you are, how peaceful. How like me, like mom, you try to see the good in everyone, and maybe we’ll get burnt a little more along the way, but I have no regrets about it. I like how you’re always thinking. I like how we play the game of protecting each other, not sharing certain things with each other for fear of letting the other down; not realizing that letting each other down would be rather difficult.



Oh yeah, the CD is a general map of myself, pieces of myself difficult to express in words at times. Follow it like some crazy map. It’s my journal to you.

I love you.



Tessin

My beautiful nymph. This is a new year for us, certainly, a somewhat challenging one with the new life on hand. I am happy to take this journey with you . . . still. I want you to remember that change is the only constant thing in our lives right now. This is comforting to recognize. I am happy to have a desperately creative soul for a partner in this life. You are an amazing woman. Your love is like the tastiest chocolate; I can’t stop moving; I am high from it. It is truly of God, and though I, at times, show the face of fear, I have never had a doubt that I should be with you. My life without you would be empty space and shadows. You fill me with laughter. You fill me with affection. You never allow us to settle into the IS. You always push us into the MORE. Without you, I would be less than I am now. I mean that. Not just words.



Where do we begin in raising Saskia? How do we teach her how to love and be in love? I look forward to the day when we can reclaim our romantic life. I must be conscious of this aspect, in fear that we may lose it if it is not nourished.



I am certain we will face more challenges than we know of right now, and some of these may test us beyond our human understanding. I hope that in those moments we learn how to reach out for God’s voice in our friends, in our families, in our quiet, tearful prayers; that we learn not to give in before we try everything; that we fight for each other like stifled breath.

Thank you for finding me. There you are, Peter. There you are. “When I get home you’re cooking supper on the stove, and the greatest gift of life is to know love.” – Indigo Girls.

Like love, like always.



Kee Kee

Little Bo Bo. It’s your first Christmas and though you will never remember it, know that you are loved by all. Eventually, you will also know the hate of those who don’t know you. It’s not about you, Baby, it’s about them. Remember that. As the days go on, I hope to see you continue along a path of beauty. I hope that your mother and I will be able to pass on to you our acceptance, an openness that happens only when you get to know people. Never be afraid to love, no matter who it is. Your parents will accept you unconditionally. Your journey is your own. You, my child, belong to a tomorrow that your mom and I are not allowed to visit. So, we’ll take care of you, until you must take care of yourself. Never be afraid to grow, to learn. For by learning and loving you shall embrace your name: Saskia – protector of her people.

Warm kisses. Daddy loves you, Kee Kee. Daddy loves you.



And so there it is. A Christmas letter for the whole family. Revelations of privacy made public. My heart is laid bare. Merry Christmas in this beautiful year of 2004. And onward we go, my family.





Love always,

Michael, Mike, Mikey, Wingy, Daddy, Babe