Dear Ann Landers,


Dear Friends,
What a wonderful year we have had! Jim was named vice president of the bank so we celebrated by buying a Mercedes and taking a trip to the Orient. In addition to his Boy Scout work, Jim served as chairman of the United Fund Drive. He is still on the hospital board and president of Kiwanis. Just for laughs, he played the lead in the Lit-tle Theater production last June and everyone said he was better than the star who did it on Broadway. His first love, however, is still conser-vation and he continues to work hard as chairman of the Committee to Fight Dutch Elm Disease. After completing my term as Junior League president, I swore I would take life easy, but it seems I am more involved than ever. I ac-cepted the vice presidency of the Garden Club and am still active in the DAR. Our church organist became ill, and they asked me to substitute, so I accepted. I ran the rummage sale for the Eastern Star again this year and managed to take a course in flower arranging which was offered by a Japanese exchange student. Jim Jr. was elected class president and won his letters in football and basketball. He is on the all-state debate team and placed third in the na-tional oratory contest last May. We were surprised when we read in the paper that he had won a $100 prize in an essay contest sponsored by The American Legion. We didn't even know he had entered! He has al-ready been accepted by Harvard. And so it goes-until you could up-chuck. Next year, Ann Landers, I am going to send a newsletter to all the people who have been sending us newsletters. It will read something like this and I hope they get the hint: Dear Friends: We had a perfectly rotten year. Hal was passed over for promotion again, so he got mad and quit. He hasn't lined up a new \ mum job as yet, but he has his name in at two agencies and he looks in the paper every day. Hal Jr. was defeated for homeroom monitor. He flunked French and will have to go to summer school. Billy has not had a haircut since August and had to hock his guitar to pay for repairing his Honda which he wrecked. My mother-in-law's annual two-week visit in May turned into two months, and my migraines got so bad I had to go back into therapy. As I write this, the whole family is down with the flu, and I don't feel so good myself. We hope next year is better. It couldn't be much worse. Love to all. -Mary Over the years, I've printed brutal assaults on mimeographed Christmas let-ters. I've said I don 't care for them and that they are nothing but brag sheets, and 80 percent of my readers agree. The 20 percent who disagree have bom-barded me with obscenities. One year, a friend from Reno wrote, "Since you and Herb Caen of the San Francisco Chronicle are opposed to mimeo-graphed Christmas letters, I thought you might consider quoting something from Herb's column." Here it is: I don't care for Christmas letters, but Bruce Bliven's are different. Now 86, the onetime editor of The New Republic (for 30 years) lives with his wife at Kingscote Gardens, Stanford. He wrote: "At 86 Rosie and I live by the rules of the elderly. "If the toothbrush is wet, you have brushed your teeth. If the bedside radio is warm in the morning, you left it on all night. If you are wearing one brown shoe and one black shoe, you have a pair like it somewhere in the closet. "Try not to mind when a friend tells you on your birthday that a case of prune juice has been donated in your name to a retirement home. "I stagger when I walk and small boys follow me, making bets on which way I'll go next. This upsets me. Children shouldn't gamble. "Like most elderly people, we spend many happy hours in front of the TV set. We rarely turn it on." I wrote: "There's a Christmas letter that warms my heart. Not a single word about Jim's promotion, the children's stellar achievements, the dog's litter of puppies, Mother's arthritis, or the new Rolls-Royce. I hope Bruce and Rose see this and put me on their list for next year. " Welly folks} I'm happy to report that Bruce and Rose did put me on their list. Here's a condensed version of their 1976 Christmas letter: Dear Friends: Rosie and I are now 87. Would we care to try for 174? The answer is no. I'm 46 percent as old as the United States, and still can't spell 'seize.' Rosie has aged some in the past year, and now seems like a woman entering her 40s. She chides me about the little elf who regularly en-ters our house in the middle of the night, squeezes the toothpaste tube in the middle and departs. Last May we celebrated our 63rd wedding anniversary. As for me, I am as bright as can be expected. I remember well the friend who told me years ago, 'If your I.Q. ever breaks 100-sell!' I walk with a slight straddle, hoping people will think I just got off a horse. On my daily excursions I greet everyone punctiliously, including the headrests in parked empty cars. Dignified friends seem surprised when I salute them with a breezy 'Hi!' They don't realize I haven't enough breath for a two-syllable greeting. When we are old, the young are kinder to us and we are kinder to each other. There is a sunset glow that radiates our faces and is reflected on the faces of those about us. But still it is sunset. [signed] Rose and Bruce Bliven