In December 1964 my mother was (unexpectedly) pregnant with
my youngest brother, Michael. There was
a heatwave in Dubbo, where we lived.
These were the reasons my parents gave for the creation of
their first “Christmas Letter”, a family bulletin that became a tradition which
lasted until my mother’s death last year.
The first copies were typed on my father’s Olivetti and
roneod on the school gestetner. It went
to the huge number of people on their Christmas Card list – probably about
150. In the days before the widespread
use of the telephone – and no social media – Christmas cards were the way
people maintained connections, so they went not only to close friends and family
but to distant relations and business associates and old neighbours and
colleagues.
In that first letter, Dad wrote about each of us children –
how we were getting on at school, our sporting prowess or other achievements,
and also gave a picture of life in Dubbo as they approached the birth of their
sixth child. My elder sister Jenny had
already left home and was working in Canberra.
He wrote that her love life “continued to amuse and confuse us
all”. And he made the announcement that
he was to take up the Principal’s position at Dubbo High School in 1965.
The pattern was established.
Circular Christmas bulletins were not widespread in 1964 – people
thought it a novel approach and many of their friends began to emulate it. They wrote that they looked forward every
year to receiving their annual update.
Typically, Mum would personalise each letter – Dad used to say that he
wondered why he bothered when Mum felt the need to write lengthy postscripts to
each one.
Mum took control of the letter when Dad began to develop
dementia, in about 1990, and I was her scribe.
In the ensuing years we embraced computers, then photographic
inclusions, then colour. As we all grew up and established families of
our own, it became customary for everyone to create a couple of paragraphs and
send some photos to Mum and me, and I would piece it all together on my
computer. In time, some of us began the tradition ourselves, but we were always
part of Mum’s letter.
In the early 2000s, the NSW State Library put out a call for
family Christmas letters as part of an acquisition project, and in about 2014
Mum featured in a Sydney Morning Herald story about the 50 years of her
correspondence. The journalist was
interested in the changing way in which the letters had been prepared, and also
in the long family saga that had unfolded over the years.
To read the 54 years of Christmas letters is to read the
history of our family, albeit a little sanitised. There
were never any serious attempts at censoring our lives but family dramas such
as break – ups and divorces were downplayed.
New relationships were cautiously embraced and if they didn't survive then they simply disappeared the following year. Academic failures were deflected. Babies were always welcomed.
When Mum died, just before Christmas 2018, I wrote one last
letter. At 93, her mailing list had dwindled
over the years, but there were a few people on the list who had been recipients
of that first letter in 1964, and who had tracked the story of our family
through children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. This year, I sent them my family letter.
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| Bill and Gwynne Gleeson - October 1987 |
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