“It was not an option for my husband to go without a sexual companion.”
In retrospect, I suppose that was an unconventional start to our family’s holiday letter, but that’s what happens when one dictates it to the typist after a nice Shiraz.
The line does nicely sum up the last year, however, and all of the family’s exploits. Particulary Roger’s.
It’s the first line, right underneath the family portrait—Roger, Roger II, the Alsatian, and me. Perhaps I should have written: “Not pictured: Alice, Enid, Una and the others whom he kept a better secret from me.” They did, after all, play an integral role in our relations this year.
While I confess a slight pang of guilt for airing our family’s tawdry deeds on candy cane stationery to the 157 people on our mailing list, I will say that this holiday letter is the only I’ve ever sent to which anyone has written back.
There was no response when I wrote about Roger II’s tuba achievements and no response when I started my charity, Tulips for Africa, but when I elf-stamped my husband’s infidelities, the letters poured in.
“You’re not alone,” confided one.
“I never thought to share so widely,” said another.
“Would you recommend your therapist?” asked a third.
The final one said simply: “Sorry about that.”
Front page image by Anita Carril.
GHOST WRITER is a project by Tracy Danger Mumford. New sections are released every other Sunday. If you’d like to receive email alerts—and that’s all you’ll get, a short email—saying the new one’s up, sign up here: