Every Christmas I perform what has become an annual one-man show in Kendall’s mother’s living room in which I recite a stack of those infamous Christmas letters people send over the holidays. Oh, don’t worry, I NEVER make fun of YOUR funny, articulate letter, if you write one and happen to know Kendall’s mother—I only perform the bizarre missives that are horribly written and contain shockingly inappropriate information and/or excruciatingly detailed reports about every moment of the previous 365 days including every surgery, slight, and sexual dysfunction. I read the letters in various voices and accents and then feel terribly guilty for mocking the humorless ramblings of these proud but clueless individuals.
Yesterday I was wrapping up my performance art with a late-arriving letter that detailed the accomplishments of the sender’s three children including every grade they received over the course of the previous school year, their current relationship status (including the one who was dumped by his girlfriend), and endless minutiae on their extracurricular activities, all punctuated with excessive exclamation points and written in a tone that made it sound like the writer was describing a trio of Nobel laureates. After reading the letter aloud I commented how I would never do that, I would never torture people with an unflinching account of my family’s achievements.
A visiting friend of mine fidgeted in her chair at my pronouncement and said quietly, “Um…your blog?”
Woops. She was absolutely right. Is that what my blog has become—a year-round Christmas letter? In a way, I guess. Truth be told, since I am a blogger and I love reading blogs, I have to admit that I actually enjoy hearing the minutiae of strangers’ lives, the more details the better. I simply ask for a soupçon of writing ability, a bissel self-awareness, and a teench of humor.
I think my sensitivity of what to include in my blog about family members and what to leave out is way more developed now than it was when I started this blog. I got in trouble early on for including some old personal correspondence between two family members without asking for the living relative's permission. More recently, I’ve been yelled at for including photos of family members that they hated.
But I hope I’m never guilty of sharing too much about my family members or saying anything inappropriate.
Hey, did you hear that my 14-year-old nephew is responsible for a huge increase in abortions in the state of Illinois? It’s true—it was on the front page of the Chicago Sun-Times last Sunday!
Oy! I was flabbergasted when I saw my nephew and his
bandmates’ photo under that headline! Hello? And since when does an article
like that warrant a picture that big on the front page of the newspaper? I
haven’t seen a photo that size on page 1 since Neil Armstrong walked on the
moon in 1969! Abortions aside, it’s an interesting article. All about teen
bands in the Chicago area including Spencer’s band “The Blisters”—you can read
it here.
In other exploitative family news, now that the story has finally leaked in the media, I can report with giddy excitement that my brother-in-law is in the middle of producing Mavis Staples’ upcoming album. Yes, Mavis Staples of the amazing Staple Singers, a Chicago-based but internationally famous band I worshipped as a kid. Pops Staples died in 2000 but Mavis has carried on the family tradition all these years and I’m thrilled that she’s recording at my brother-in-law’s loft and that my sister and nephews are getting the chance to hang with such a legend. Spencer took some great photos of Mavis at the loft (which I'm stealing from his blog without his permission—what did I just say?). Staples has adopted my nephews as her honorary grandchildren. Doesn’t that make her my spiritual mother?
The Mavis Staples track I listen to most often is a duet she did with her friend Aretha Franklin that was recorded for Aretha’s gospel album from the 1980s, “One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism.” I love their take on “Oh Happy Day” and I can never get enough of it:
Who am I kidding? I’ll never stop writing about my family members on this blog. Isn't that what blogs are for? All I can do is try not not to be as obnoxious as some of the worst Christmas letter writers. Hey, give me some credit—at least I’m not scanning Leah’s first-semester grades which came in the mail today and posting them here. (Ow, stop twisting my arm! Okay, fine—she got straight As!)
How did I see the Sun Times article and never notice the headline? That is hysterical! I just saw Spencer and his bandmates and was so excited for them that I never read any other part of the paper.
Posted by: diana | January 11, 2010 at 02:39 PM
Your post just hit a chord at the exact timing when I am wondering why I am having so much difficulty with my own blog and its themes. I had a very long conversation recently with an old friend of mine, we can't see each other anymore because we each live on a different side of the Atlantic, but we've kept faithful to each other.
We both share a big part of my personal stories, as she came in my life at the same time and in the same circles as who would become the father of my children. She is one of the very rare close friends of mine who dutifully checks on my blog everyday, scrutinizes every 12seconds and other videos I post and sometimes leaves a comment on given blogposts.
She was basically asking me why I was not more personal in my blog. Why I was keeping so distant with myself. And I agree with her. I have been wondering about why myself, and truth to be said, because I kind of envy the tone of blogs like yours, amongst others.
Posted by: Otir | January 11, 2010 at 04:13 PM
I love this post :D
Posted by: Spencer Tweedy | January 11, 2010 at 05:35 PM
Jordan would love One Faith in her iTunes for her birthday. Thanks for the reminder. O Happy days...
Posted by: Erica M | January 11, 2010 at 05:40 PM
hey, could you please tell Jeff,that Mavis Staples played at the Mt. Baker Theatre in Bellingham Wa. and i was there in a front row seat beside myself with awe and reverance, so therefore it makes complete and total sense that Wilco should make a stop here in between the seattle and vancouver feb. gigs? LOL!
Posted by: susie specter | January 11, 2010 at 06:38 PM
Truthfully? You do share more about your family members than I would, but that's one of the reasons I keep coming back!
Please save some of those letters for the next time I'm in town. I'd love to attend one of your performances.
Posted by: Julie R. | January 11, 2010 at 06:58 PM
By the way, how did you create that Warholesque image of Charlie?
Posted by: Julie R. | January 11, 2010 at 06:59 PM
If it's any consolation, not only am I a big fan of Leah and Charlie, I am a fan of Wilco BECAUSE of your blog. Was so excited to hear they are coming soon to my Ruth Eckerd Hall in Clearwater, Florida!
Posted by: Jennifer Smith | January 11, 2010 at 07:04 PM
Forget the damn kids, why in God's name don't you write about me more often. I got straight A's once... in reform school! Whatever you write, you do it brilliantly. It's in your nature. (Don't tell Mavis).
xo
Posted by: [email protected] | January 11, 2010 at 08:13 PM
I don't know you from Adam and usually just lurk here, but thank you for your beautiful writing and gorgeous photos of your kids. I believe you are inspired (and I italicize that!) -- plus, the popular references to television and music are fantastic...
Posted by: elizabeth | January 11, 2010 at 08:30 PM
You forget (or maybe you don't) that I choose to come here and read your blog, while I get poorly written Christmas missives in the mail and feel obligated to read them (though in recent years I just get a lot of those Snapfish style photo postcards). PS - your recent pics of Charlie make me smile big time.
Posted by: K Wild | January 11, 2010 at 09:17 PM
I am glad you are not on my Christmas newsletter mailing list! But it is mostly a summary of the major things I put on Facebook--only with more pictures--and is generated these days primarily for the ten people I know who refuse to be on Facebook.
I received only three Christmas newsletters this past holiday. All were pretty boring but none as badly written as you described. My only fear with my own newsletter is that there is too much "I" since I have no kids or other family members to talk about. However, reading one single friend's annual accounting in her newsletter of the achievements of her 10 now-grown nieces and nephews whom I've never met while she says very little about herself is probably just as bad.
Your blog is about YOU and YOURs. I don't consider it exploitative at all.
Posted by: Pam G | January 12, 2010 at 04:19 AM
Dear Danny,
As one who frequently discusses and posts photos of her daughters on her blog, I am totally sympathetic to your need to gush publicly. In fact, when I receive Christmas letters (two this year and written in the same mode as yours), I reply with a suggestion they read my blog to catch up.
xoxo
Fake Grandma (Now, what's my relationship to Mavis?)
Posted by: Elaine Soloway | January 12, 2010 at 05:06 AM
Danny:
Let's face it, if you write only to those who are interested in the details, they have to read it. It's not like a phone call where you have to fane that you are busy of have another call coming in that you just "have to take". How else can those of us who were never really great friends still keep up on others lives and choose which details to share. I personally don't know if I would every call anyone that we went to school with. After all did we loose touch or just choose not to stay in contact. I love to vicariously hear about the coming and going of those lifes. After all we grew up together, and like it or not those expericences curved our lives. Plus you are a wonderful writer, and one day I'm sure there will be a memoir.
Posted by: Sam Wengroff | January 12, 2010 at 08:00 AM
I think it's about extremes. I write about my kids, but I don't reveal anything I think would make them uncomfortable. It's funny. The only thing they've had a problem with is me posting a photo they thought was unflattering too.
Posted by: churlita | January 12, 2010 at 10:39 AM
Keep 'em coming, Danny!!!!!!!!!
Posted by: Sheila Linderman | January 12, 2010 at 12:59 PM
Congratulations to Leah! That is fantastic!!
Posted by: Karen | January 12, 2010 at 01:00 PM
Dear Danny,
When I was a kid, our family always got one of those obnoxious christmas letters from a family acquaintance. Every single edition was filled with a laundry list of his amazing accomplishments over the past year. To hear him tell it, he never had a bad year, or even a bad day. LOL.
The difference is, when you're bragging (LOL) in your blog, you always tell a good story to make it interesting. And, you include pictures. Don't change a thing.
-Gordon
Posted by: Gordon | January 12, 2010 at 07:44 PM
Awesome posting man!
You are a great blogger. I like your work. Truly you are a genius.
Keep up the good work Man!
Webroyalty
Posted by: Nick Matyas | January 13, 2010 at 05:41 AM
I love your blog so much. Don't evah change!
Much love to you and your family in this new year.
Charlie looks magnificent.
Posted by: Lori Kirkland Baker | January 13, 2010 at 02:28 PM
way to go ms miller! keep up the good work! xo,m
Posted by: m.yahn | January 14, 2010 at 07:40 AM
Whew! Glad I just sent out a card this year because my writing skills ain't all that :). Of course the difference between a blog and a letter to me is that you go to a blog to read it, it is not sent to you.
Posted by: Jeff | January 14, 2010 at 09:38 AM
"Hey, did you hear that my 14-year-old nephew is responsible for a huge increase in abortions in the state of Illinois?"
The article isn't clear: has Spencer gone on an impregnation spree or is he merely performing abortions? Regardless, I always suspected that he was the cause...
Posted by: Sarah | January 14, 2010 at 02:18 PM
Your blog canNOT EVER be compared to a poorly written Christmas letter. Jeesh. My husband anticipates letters from certain families so he can mock them. NOT the Christmas spirit. :-)
Mavis Staples is definitely your spiritual mother. Go with it!
Posted by: Chris | January 20, 2010 at 08:57 AM