Greetings from the North Pole, Part XX

December 2022

My dearest Children,

Once more around the Sun, and it’s Christmastime again! The Practicalities, first: The Rome Clan’s gifts were mismarked for Minnesota. Our twin Doublecheckers, Dothea and Crossby Thorogood, caught the mistake only moments before the Sleigh departed. Rather than resort to elfin Magic to reroute the gifts, they used much older method: a Favor. They consulted with our lead Rerouter for the Italian Peninsula, Linguina Pacchetta-Eubetta, who learned of Master Nick Waddell’s pending visit. Gwin reached out to the Seminary, and he has agreed to bring the the Old Man’s gifts on Our Behalf, along with those from Minnesota. All’s well that ends well, as they say—and there’s none better that Dot and Cross when it comes to Is and Ts like these!

It has been cold in Minnesota—a White Christmas, indeed, with Polar temperatures and winds to boot. Quite a contrast to a balmy winter in Rome! Although Everyone is now of age in terms of All Things Christmas (save Masters Augustine and Charles, who are as yet Too Young to have many questions), your Watchers still check on occasion.

Brendan, Becky, and the Boys: What a blessed home you’ve made already in the Eternal City! As you’ve no doubt noticed, Children are in Short Supply there, but young Augie’s bright blue eyes and boundless Energy, and the perfect, plump Adorability of “Chuckito-Burrito,” as his Dziadzi calls him, will water seeds in the driest of hearts. Continue to witness to the Joy of Family Life, my Friends—the world Down Below is in Dire Need!

Master Gabriel: The Winter has not been kind to your Car or your Pocketbook, but as you know well, it matters little! Your calling to join the Franciscans will bear fruit in the coming months, and these problems melt away with the Snow now that the days are lengthening again! You and your Younger Brother have always been Good Boys; now you are both becoming New Men in profound ways. The Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter pray daily for you both, as they do for all budding Vocations. Well done, Master Trevor, on your first semester of College Seminary classes!

We are so proud of you, as well, Miss Emma, for finding Studies you love in Bismarck and for committing to your church’s Missionary Trip this winter. Serving those in need will no doubt make a Deep Impression on your Heart, dear one. Let it. Like any scar, Hearts that are broken from Love heal stronger!

And Miss Lily: My, but you have embraced your Role in Christmas well this Winter! Keep up the Good Work—you help to keep the magic of the Season alive for young and old alike! But always Remember: The Magic of Christmas can only point to the Meaning of Christmas…the great gift of our Savior, born a Babe in a manger. St. Nicholas believes in Him, and so must you, or it’s all just bubblewrap and tinsel!

But here I am again, running long on Words and short on Paper. One final Note, if I may: The lovely Miss Bell Doubletree and I have taken numerous sleighrides in the past year—not in THE Sleigh, of course!—and our courtship is progressing wonderfully. Another year or two and we could be engaged, if ol’ Tuggs (her father) and Miss Matchwright (our elfin Matchmaker) approve—a whirlwind Courtship by our standards! We elves move quickly in Everything, save romance! Wish me God’s good providence!

For my part, I wish you only the Happiest of Christmases and a blessed New Year!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

 

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XIX

 

Christmas 2021

My dearest Children,

How wild the Whirlwind blows for you who live Below! Here it is always one white and wonderous Winter, but you must deal with Seasons and Wardrobes changing, travel plans, illnesses, and who knows What Else! Even the most energetic Elves can lose the Thread that connects the Start of Human plans to their End. Truly, I am glad you were able to come Together in Bismarck, God willing in good Health and full Vigor!

But your question of Thursday morning was well-placed, Miss Lily! You asked whether old Santa would visit your home in Minnesota, or Bismarck, or both. As usual with such things, your Father was correct: We try our Level Best to deliver Everyone’s gifts to Where-They-Are, not Where-They-Were or Will-Be. Our elfin Routers are constantly calculating and recalculating the most Efficient path to the homes of all Believers, always taking into account the latest information from the Watcher Corps. Since your Family’s plans were up in the air until just a few days ago, the Gifts and Routing naturally could not be finalized until Your Father and Brother tested free and clear of sickness!

It may please you to know that last-minute re-routes are expedited by two Roving Routers—identical twins Felicity and Ezekiel Fleetfoot (Fliss and EZ, we call them!). Not only are they quick on their Feet, as their surname suggests (descended, as they are, from a long line of Messenger Elves), but they can finish each other’s Thoughts and Sentences, which makes last-minute changes a breeze!

Still, mistakes happen: Thus there is a Gift missing from Mistress Becky’s delivery, and only a card in its place. (Our apologies, Dear One!) Fliss discovered the issue—a lost note from the Kitchens of Mrs. Claus to the Makers’ Workshop—and her brother thought to simply ship the final gift to Minnesota when it was finished to reach Becky when she arrives for the New Year. EZ does it, as they say!

Masters Brendan, Gabriel, and Trevor; Miss Emma Rose and Lillian; and dear Becky: You continue to do such Good Things in this tilted World, putting your Gifts to use for Our Lord and His Kingdom. We all serve Someone—even jolly St. Nicholas!—and he is Most Pleased that you continue to choose the Good almost always! I am blest to be your Scribe and would dearly love to continue writing for you (and the Next Generation—bless me!) for years to come!

But things do change as the Children of Men age, and what must Be shall Be. Miss Lily has now reached double-digits and had new Responsibilities to take on regarding All Things Christmas. Ask your Father in a quiet moment, young One—and do not be alarmed if he gets a bit emotional. He has always been Softer than he appears.

A final Note: I mentioned in last year’s Letter a certain Bell Doubletree, who holds my tiny Heart in her nimble Hands. I am overjoyed to share our Courtship has begun—which also means I am now spending time with her Father, Master Tuggs, learning all things Harness, Hoof, and Horn. (Antlers, actually, but I am a Scribe, and fond of alliteration.)

I wish you only the Happiest of Christmases and a blessed New Year!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XVIII

Christmas 2020 

My dearest children, 

The Blessed Day has at last arrived, and this most unusual Year is drawing to a close—not a moment too soon, I think, for you living Down Below. One of the great Blessings of life here at the Pole is that (aside from Reindeer Flu and the like) we are generally free of your Human illnesses. The so-called inhospitable climate of the Great White North, coupled with our natural Isolation, has rendered the Great Pandemic of 2020 moot. Would that were true for you! 

And yet Christmas has come to the Thorp Clan, on time and glittering for all that, with a deep cushion of new snow for soft landing all around—thank you, Lily, for your White Christmas wishes! You have all been entirely Blessed this year—all working or in school in a more-or-less Normal Fashion (for Humans, at least), all Healthy, and with a brand-new Wee One to extend the Thorp line. Welcome and well-met, Master Augustine! I shall await next year’s Duty Board (tell your Father, “Yes, he said ‘dooty’”) to see if I am named scribe for the Bismarck Thorps, as well—but in the meantime, the joy of Master Brendan and his beautiful bride brings into sharper focus the desires of my own Heart for Love and Family. Yes, after decades of waiting, there is a Girl, with lovely long hair and warm, smiling eyes like those of Mistress Becky! Her name is Bell, the youngest daughter of ol’ Tuggs Doubletree’s harness-making brood, a rough and rowdy lot. Miss Bell does the finest filigree tooling on Santa’s sleigh bells, and she is just as brassy and joy-filled as her name suggests. I shall have my hands full should my Desires one day be realized—but first, a Date would do! 

But enough of me and my concerns: Lily, you have a couple as-yet Unanswered Questions—though I believe if you read back through past letters (14 years…bless me!) you would find you are not the First to ask these Things! I believe you asked how Santa enters homes without chimneys (a more and more common Phenomenon these days), and how the various reindeer from the great Poems and Songs are doing. 

May I take the latter question first? I hope you won’t be too disappointed to know (as your sister was and does) that those earlier reindeer are No Longer with Us. Naturally, they are long passed—unlike Elves, who, though mortal, are miraculously long-lived, our Reindeer are just deer—bodily and animated creatures, well attended by Doc Vendy and others to be sure, but not the least bit magical in Themselves. Other deer have long since taken the place of Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, et al—just as there were countless generations before them—but all from the same stock and all with a Fearless Disposition with regard to treading clouds and windswept rooftops! 

Indeed, nothing at the Pole is rightly conceived as magical in the Human senses of the world. Reindeer cannot fly by illusion and or sleight of hand, like that of your performing Magicians—and of course, St. Nicholas would not have even a whiff of occult nonsense or pagan Mumbo-Jumbo mixed up in his Business. Heaven forbid! What passes for magic to your eyes is really an extension of Our Lord’s teaching that, if you have Faith the size of a Mustard seed, you could move mountains. As you might imagine, if you have enough faith as to tell a Mulberry Tree to plant itself in the Sea and watch it do so, you must be Very Careful what you wish! Thus when I write of elfin mathematimagicians and aeroanimages, spells and magic, what I really refer to extreme Precision and Persistence in Prayer. We are thorough and detailed in what we ask of God’s providence and plan, in order that the miracles of Christmas as you know and love it may come to pass each year with scarcely a Ripple in the Cosmos, despite that we are doing grand and wonderous Things! Indeed one of the great Myths of life at the North Pole is that, when Master Kringle takes to the skies, we elves celebrate or take our rest. Not so! When the sleigh departs, all of us—young and old, of every trade—join Fr. Aloysius and the Sisters of Perpetual Winter for an all-night vigil including Midnight Mass, caroling and Adoration, that our plans be good, true and beautiful, and that God’s will be done through them! 

Nearly out of paper from rambling, and I still have the question of how the Old Man enters homes without a chimney. In retrospect, I see I’ve answered twice before, so I will share my 2016 reply in hopes that Mistress Lily and the Family might revisit the old letters: 

St. Nicholas goes where he wills, in whatever form is required: a tall and saintly bishop, a plump and fur-clad toymaker, a wisp of Christmas Spirit swirling on a winter breeze. Doors and locks are no obstacle for him—a chimney, a vent, or even a keyhole is as good as a doorway if we wished to enter!

You elder Children have made us proud here at the Pole: Master Gabriel with his missionary service and prayerful simplicity, Miss Emma—Rosebud, as your Father says—spreading Joy and expanding your Horizons at the University of Mary (or Merry, as the case may be!), and Master Trevor sharing music and growing in knowledge and faith at a new school this year. Our Watchers never tire—and never tire of watching you. May God continue to bless you now and in eternity—stay close to Him, and you will weather the Storms of This World unscathed. A very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XVII

Christmas 2019

My dearest children,

Your Father asks, and rightly so: Where does the Time go? Another year, come and gone—One might think the great looping path by which the Earth circles the Sun were diminishing day by day, shortening the Seasons (and warming the Winters!), but I assure you it is not so. The Great Chronometer skips not a beat, year by year; it is We who perceive it differently as We age.

Do the Years seem shorter to you, yet, Master Brendan? Brace yourself, youngling—and your Lovely Bride, too! In a Few Short Days, it may feel as though Tuggs Doubletree has harnessed another young Team or two to your Sleigh. Two I dos and away you’ll fly into the frosty night as Husband and Wife. In centuries past, Such Things were arranged for both Your Kind and Ours, but rest assured, the Both of you: you have chosen well. Noelle Matchwright has studied you from afar and is Most Impressed with your Formation and Discernment, which are mostly absent in Marriages these days.

But forgive me: Madame Matchwright is unknown to you! She is the original elfin Matchmaker here at the Pole, and for many centuries, arranged all Marriages among Our Kind. She has the keen eyes of her father’s Farseer kinsfolk and the saintliness of her maternal Trueheart blood, both of Which lend themselves well to her Mission. It was God’s Providence that she married Sulpherous Matchwright and gained a name that matched her trade. Old Smoky makes matches, as well, but of a much Different Sort. Still the spark was there, and they have many Daughters, each a Spitting Image of their mother in looks and knack, and each named Noelle like the Mother who bore them, making her the First Noelle—truly!

The rest of you Young Ones may notice a speeding of the spin of this Tilted World, as well! Master Gabriel, it is well and wise that you should strive to live in Christmas Present, and neither languish in the Past nor sprint too quickly to the unknown Future. God has great plans for you, today and always, and you are doing the Best Work a man can do: Sharing the love of Him Whose birth eclipses all the Wonders we work up here! Miss Emma Rose, do enjoy these next few months at home with your Siblings and Parents and Friends of all Ages—you and the University of Mary will be mutually blessed next Fall, no doubt, but such Changes are coming, and you are no longer a little girl (much to your Parents’ dismay). Continue to pray and may your new veil serve to focus your attention on the Universal Bridegroom. (I know you hoped for blue lace in honor of Our Lady; this one is more a silver hue, woven of Moonlight on the Snow by the Sisters of Perpetual Winter—I hope it will suffice!) Master Trevor, we continue to enjoy your musical career, in Various Bands, Choirs and Theatrical Productions, as well as the blossoming of your potential Vocation. Fr. Aloysius and Sr. Providence offer Masses and Rosaries for all such aspiring Young People, and have prayed for you, in particular. Whatever the Future holds, know that it will be Blessed to the extent you are open and allow it to be!

And finally, Miss Lily: Bursting with curiosity this year about All Things Christmas. Your dark eyes see much, Little One, but your Heart knows more! Let it lead you to the Truth of things, especially as you prepare for your First Holy Communion! Your Note was late going out, but as I’ve said in the Past, even late is rarely Too Late for jolly old St. Nicholas. You have received what the Old Man thought best, and I’m sure you are happy even without Everything on your List.

You also asked a question: Which is Kris Kringle’s favorite reindeer? I am sorry, but I cannot answer that simply, because there is no Simple Answer! Just like we Elves, Santa’s reindeer come from long family lines, each with its respective strengths that serve us well. The names so familiar to Big Folk below—Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, and Rudolf, of course—are but one generation of reindeer representing countless deer before and after! In their day, Dasher and Comet were the fastest bulls and urged the other six to fly at great speed; Dancer and Prancer were the nimblest of cows, and could bring the Sleigh to halt atop the smallest and steepest of Rooftops; Cupid and Vixen were older, wiser cows that balanced out the dauntless courage of Donner and Blitzen, two bulls who would fly headlong into a Blizzard if it meant a child’s smile. And Rudolf, of course: That miracle buck (bull, rather) whose snout enlightened the gloom of a wet, grey Christmas Eve was gifted supernaturally for the task at hand. Asking Father Christmas to choose a favorite reindeer is like asking him to choose a favorite Child: It cannot be done, because each is a Miracle in his or her Own Right!

I hope that is satisfactory. Alas! The sand in the glass is spent, and I am still writing. I must close now, or this letter will not be delivered! A very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XVI

Christmas 2018

My dearest children,

How very Strange it must feel to age as swiftly as Your Kind! We elves mature slowly, live long, and are by and large born into our Trades, which we Practice and Perfect for decades stretching to centuries, all here at the North Pole. But you: You must grow up and decide in No Time at All what to do with yourselves, learn All You Can in a few short years, and do your best to make a Way for yourselves in the Wider World. It brings a Tear as much as a Twinkle to my eye, as it must for your Dear Parents, to see you grow and leave the proverbial Nest.

But my, what Fine Fledglings you are! Master Brendan, woolly and bearded as old Lewis’s Tumnus, nearly finished with your first degree and with dear Miss Wilke by your side, on the cusp of so many Possibilities and Horizons; Master Gabriel, tall and straight as an aspen, traveling the roads and sharing the Good News like the Apostles of old; the beautiful Miss Emma, ever the elf, spreading Holiday Cheer throughout the year just as We do: with thoughtful Gifts, kind Words and only the best Baked Goods; and Master Trevor—in High School already?—with such talent and love for Music that all the Day-Watchers prefer Seamus Farseer to check in on you in the morning, before School, to hear you play and progress on the piano!

And then, of course, is Lovely Miss Lily: sharp and smart and quite Elfin yourself, with your Pixie cut and eyes like Dark Pools beneath a moonlit sky. It is a Blessing for me and your parents both to have a youngling with such enthusiasm for All Things Christmas as well as a Love of Toys, which are still very much in Our Wheelhouse, as your Father would say. You sent no questions with your Note to Santa, but you mentioned to your Dad that you wondered whether that white-bearded Wonderworker would know you wanted a Vikings shirt even though you forgot to mention it! Your parents took care of that for you, but the answer is, Of course He knows! He always knows!

Not only is the Watcher Corps well aware of all such Wants and Conversations, but should Things change drastically in the Last Hours before Christmas (or Heaven forbid, we Elves make a mistake—for we are no more Perfect than you Big Folk!), the Swifters sweep into action. These the most fleet-footed and stealthy of Elves make Emergency Switches and Last-Minute Deliveries, unseen by even the keenest of eyes of night-bird or -beast! The first Swifters were Flit Golightly, a skilled and silent Hunter with bow and blade, even on the open tundra, and his fiancée, Feather Fletcher. Late in your 19th Century, the two delivered several forgotten Gifts one Christmas morning even as the Sun rose in the East, and No One below the Circle was the wiser! Their firstborn, Flint, was as lead-footed and clumsy as our Kind come, but remains a master Bowyer and Arrow-wright in his Mother’s line; his younger twin siblings, Felix and Felicity, now handle last-minute deliveries in the Wee Hours!

Such stories I could tell, had I the time to Ramble—but alas (and at last), it is Christmas Eve! Perhaps your Father and I should collaborate again on a story? A Pipe and a Pint would help matters, but we are Not Allowed to meet Your Kind face-to-face, or what would it mean to Believe? Faith, then, children, and a Very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XV

Christmas 2017

My dearest Children,

Has it been Another Year already? Your parents have no doubt shared how quickly Time Flies as one gets older—imagine, then, the heady speed for one as Old as I am! And human Children grow and change so fast: Master Brendan, as steadfast, woolly, and bearded as a Bison; Master Gabriel, sharp and penetrating as a Hawk; Emma, lovely and joyful as a Lark in spring (even in winter!); Master Trevor, as shaggy and ravenous as a winter Wolf—and Miss Lily, as fickle as Reindeer calf, now bucking with your herdmates, now gazing wide-eyed at the Auroras, now nestled near your mother as the Wild World goes by. Ah, but it does my Heart good to see your Family flourishing!

And you’ve added a puppy to the mix! A brave thing, to be sure—puppies (and Airedales in particular) are not for the Faint of Heart! But Eugenia and Hawthorne Mushardy assure me that with patience, a firm hand, and lots of love your Bruno will join the ranks of Boomer and Puck as the very Definition of a Good Dog—and I know of no better judge of Canis familiaris than they! Gee was a Deervermer before they married and worked with Doc Vendy to keep our working packs healthy, while Haw mushed, hunted and trapped alongside Spurius Longwind, the Woodsman and Teller of Tall Tales you’ve no doubt heard about!

You asked no questions of me this year, Miss Lily, which must mean your Siblings and Parents are doing a fine job explaining All Things Christmas! Nonetheless, I will share a bit more with you: On the Feast of St. Nicholas, you left a note and picture for the Old Man, assuring him you had been Good this year and sharing a lovely picture you drew. While we always love notes, letters, pictures and other Handiwork from Your Kind, let me assure you that you needn’t worry: our Watcher Corps has seen you from afar and Knows Well the content of your Character. Indeed, your family—having achieved a certain age and stability—has recently been assigned to one of our Watchers-In-Training. Currently a first-year, Iris Stargazer, keeps tabs on you, Lily. Young Iris has a keen eye and a good heart, but a wandering mind, which makes a generally Good Girl like yourself the Perfect Charge until she finds her focus!

And now I must go: My maternal great-grandfather, Papyrus Parchment, is not long for this World, and with our work done tonight, the entire Clan will be gathered for his Passing. It was old Pappy who began the Wrapping of Presents, and it was he who founded our Paper Mill for the production of everything from list-rolls and gift wrap to boxes and tags! He even began recycling paper well before your pulpwrights Down Below, and for long decades now, has sent elfin Separators south to glean and gather reusable wrap from trashcans and dumpsters Down There. Oh, you may still tear into your presents, Young Ones—we even recycle the scraps and tatters…but it’s not entirely true when they say, “We aren’t going to save the paper.” Perhaps you aren’t, but We are!

Old Pappy—we will miss him, but he was as faithful and true as they come; the divots in the kneeler match those in his knees, as they say. He is bound for Heaven, I am sure—if I leave this World and miss him still, it’s my own fault.

Have a very Merry Christmas and a blessed New Year!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XIV

Christmas 2016

My dearest children,

Joy and Peace to you on the Feast of the Incarnation! It is a Wonder that, in a world of glitz and gadgets, a lone candle burning bright can still draw our gaze, and the mystery of the Babe in the Manger can still make the most restless heart skip a beat. Such is the power of Our Lord, which exceeds even St. Nick’s.

And what Child is this, whose curiosity about All Things Christmas has yielded not one, not two, but four Questions this year—and two of which I’ve never answered before for your family! Lovely Miss Lily, you have at last arrived at the age at which the Magic of the Season bubbles over and colors everything it touches a bright red and deep green. I shall do my best to answer, and may Santa find no fault in my explanations.

You only actually wrote down two of your questions, and the first is the hardest: Does Rudolph really guide Santa’s sled? Your Dad believed so when he was young and was almost ready to come to blows over this question, so I do not take it lightly! But you should know that parts of this Tale are debated even here at the North Pole!

The short answer is No: the young buck called Rudolf (technically a bull, not a buck) lived many years ago, but has long since died and gone back to grass. He would be an Old Deer, indeed, were he still pulling the sleigh today! Others have since taken his place, as they have for Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, et al—but all of this, of course, is lost to your world in the Timelessness of Christmas!

Was there ever a Rudolf? Certainly!—and all elves agree that one dismal, damp, and gray Christmas Eve long ago, when visibility was almost zero and navigation nearly impossible, this particular reindeer manifested a peculiar light from his snout, which pierced the gloom so that the other Reindeer and the Man in Red could find their way. Being quite young and not full-grown, he was not among the Eight planned to pull that night, but was added at the front by our harness-maker, Theodore Doubletree, who had his work cut out for him making a collar and harness on short notice. (Hence the shorter spelling of Rudolf, with an F instead of a PH—no one had ever written the name until old Tuggs hurriedly stamped it in leather!)

But according to Rangifer Deervermer, Santa’s original herdmaster, he was not an outcast as the Song and Film suggest. He was indeed the most playful of reindeer—strangely fond of games, in fact—and as a young deer would chase and kick a red ball all around the yard and encourage the other reindeer calves to do the same! And he was always drawn to light—Christmas lights, lanterns, candle-light, fire—you name it, he was there at a run. So it made sense that, when this sort of Miracle was needed, Rudolf would be the one to deliver!

This story might raise a final question: was he born with a glowing red nose? This, my dear children, I cannot answer precisely. Some say his nose always glowed—they swear to have seen it!—while others claim it was the work of the Miracle Corps on that particular Christmas. Old Jiffy (Rangifer, that is) won’t say, and neither will Buoyancy Castor, whose incantations are responsible for getting our reindeer off the ground. Both wisely say that there is no explaining Miracles, or they wouldn’t be Miracles!—and both hint that if a glowing nose is needed, whether to help Kris Kringle see or to help a child believe—it will be provided. So if you see a red glow in the sky some Christmas Eve, it may well be your very own Rudolf, come to visit!

Onward, then! Your second question, Miss Lillian, was, Does Santa have a telephone? In a word, no—at least, not one he regularly uses or that children like yourself may call. However, there are many phone lines (like the one you’ve no doubt heard about on your Father’s radio) by which we elves and Father Christmas gather information about the wants and needs of children like Yourself—so phone calls to our many “Santas” in your world certainly help the real Gift-Bringer know what to bring!

Your final two questions, Little One, were spoken, not written—and have been answered by me in past letters. You asked how Santa gets into people’s houses, and how we know what your Questions are. I will give you the quick answers, and leave the longer explanations for Master Brendan to look up in past letters. St. Nicholas goes where he wills, in whatever form is required: a tall and saintly bishop, a plump and fur-clad toymaker, a wisp of Christmas Spirit swirling on a winter breeze. Doors and locks are no obstacle for him—a chimney, a vent, or even a keyhole is as good as a doorway if he wishes to enter! And Santa has an entire Corps of elfin Watchers, whose sole job is to keep an eye on children and families and track their behavior, questions, and needs. They never miss a trick, those Watchers, so always be on your Best Behavior!

And you have! Once again, the entire Thorp Gang has been nothing short of a Joy and Pleasure to behold this year—oh, each of you have had your Moments when the sweetness of Life seems sour and you spit it back at each other or your Parents. But you are only Human, after all, and even we Elves bicker at times! Master B, it is as your Father says: the University in Bismarck is magnifying the best in you, and diminishing the worst. Let Monsignor and Company continue their work! Master Gabriel, know that Fr. Lamplighter and all the Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter are praying for your vocation, whether priest or husband—and asked me remind you that God wills only the Good for you. (Remember that, when young Master Trevor passes you in height!) Miss Emma and Master T: do continue to make Music and raise a Joyful Noise unto the Lord—I have no doubt He loves it, as do we Elves, when we tune in!—and continue to spread joy and laughter wherever you go. Both are in short supply in this tilted World!

Finally, Miss Lillian: thank you, Dear One, for sharing your tremendous Christmas Spirit with those around you—both as a five-year-old Lover of Santa and Presents and as the Virgin Mary in your Christmas Play the other night. Always remember that even St. Nicholas kneels before the Babe in the Manger—this Great Day marks the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and no gift is greater than He!

Merry Christmas, my friends, and a very Happy New Year!

Yours Still and Always,

Quill

It's Done! (But Not Quite Ready...)

Siberius Quill Presents: The Terrible Caribou Flu has been published as a Kindle book to Amazon.com! Unfortunately—as this is an experiment—we've learned two things we had not expected:

1. It can take up to 72 hours for the story to be reviewed and actually appear on Amazon. Quill and I will let you know the moment it appears!
2. For best visibility (and for any sort of reasonable royalty from Amazon), we need to sell this story for $2.99. Since this is more than we anticipated charging, we have decided that any proceeds will go to charity.

As a reward for your patience, Quill said I could share with you his original cover art. Quill admits he is not an artist, but it captures a bit of the story beautifully!

(And if all goes as it has for the past 13 years, we'll have a letter to share tomorrow!)

Update on the Eve of Christmas Eve

Well, dear Readers, I have done what I could, and the Story is in Master Thorp's hands now. I must admit, the Tale grew long and complicated in the telling, and I pray he will be able to mold it into Something Reasonable. I have little doubt it will be ready for you to Read and Enjoy soon, and I sincerely Hope you do!

Now, as this is my Very Busiest time of year, I must return to my correspondence. Christmas comes, and quickly!

Yours Still and Always,

Quill

A Glimpse at the Work In Progess!

Dear Reader: What follows is a Sneak Peek at the tale we are working up for you this Holiday Season! It is the story of a Christmas that Almost Wasn't—when most of the reindeer came down with Caribou Flu and no one knew how the Old Man's sleigh would take to the skies. We had hoped to have it done today, but Time has conspired against us. With the prayers of the Good Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter, we'll have an e-story by Christmas!

Read on, and wet your whistle—much more will be coming soon!

Yours truly,

Siberius Quill

* * * * *

In a snug room in the back corner of the barn and stables, Hiram Deervermer slept soundly, his snores rattling the latch of the heavy plank door. Old Hitch, as he was known among his friends and family, had been chief herdsman and head of the Stable Corps for long years now, since the retirement of his great-grandfather Rangifer, and had lived at the stables since the untimely passing of his wife, Cervidia. He was stout for an elf, nearly as wide as he was tall, balding and beardless, but with magnificent black mutton-chops on both cheeks, and the same sparkling blue eyes of his sister’s sons.

Silas rapped on the thick door with his knuckles and called out, “Uncle Hiram?” A snore shook the door in reply.

He knocked again and called louder: “Uncle Hiram!” No response at all. He banged the door with the side of his fist. “Hey! Uncle Hiram! Wake up!”

From behind the door, Silas heard a grumble and the groan of old bedsprings, then silence. “Uncle Hiram?” he called. A snore like the snarl of a wolverine was followed by the deep and peaceful breaths of slumber.

“HITCH DEERVERMER!” shouted Silas, pounding with all his might. “AY! HITCH! RISE AND SHINE!”

“Antlers in velvet!” cried the old elf. “At this black hour? Who pummels my door?”

“Your nephew, Uncle,” said Silas, grinning at his uncle’s grouchiness. “And all hours are black this time of year. It’s time for the morning feeding, and most of the herd is sick. Come quick!”