Sharritt's Annual Christmas Letter

Dear Sharritt friends and family,

The gifts have been unwrapped and our belts have been let out a notch or two to relieve the pressure from the great cooking and baking in an expanding assembly of family foodies.
In discussing a theme for the Christmas Letter,
the lovely Miss Beverly's mind went to three
trees that were cut down on the farm this year.

All were brought low because of things to which trees of a certain age succumb. Two of the trees were 40 foot ash trees planted by Bev and Roger the year of their engagement in 1984. Sigh. For Miss Beverly, read a sigh of melancholy, and for Roger read a sigh of contentment by the ash-stoked fire. We know, after 31 years together, how our paradox of love works. These ash fell to the Emerald Ash Borer, a shiny green beetle, that found our trees of a certain age, and found them delicious.

The other tree was a 50 year old maple that was in our yard. I mean no disrespect to my Great Aunt Mid when I write this. This tree reminds me of her. She was of a certain age where years of crossing her legs, one ankle over the other, had caused her sciatic nerve to flare and "no end of aggravation" late in life. She would shift from one hip to the other trying to get comfortable and suddenly realize that 80 years of muscle memory had crossed her ankles once again. The maple tree suffered from the same aggravation. Early in its life it got in the habit of crossing one root over another root. There were no problems early on but 40 years later that habit had robbed itself of the nutrients needed to survive on its eastern side.

The lovely Miss Beverly had tried to will it back to health. We would pull into the drive, and both look at the tree, and the conversation would go something like,
Roger: We need to cut that down.
Bev: Half of it is still green. It must be coming out of the root girdling thing. Couldn't we just cut the dead half?
Roger: No. Too dangerous.
Bev: Let's wait, I think it's greener this year than last year. Don't you think so? Roger: No.
Bev: Maybe in the fall.
But it was of a certain age also, and Bev, after taking some photos of it over the season to try to document its comeback, yielded to Roger's pragmatism.


I know what you are thinking. Are they really writing a Christmas letter about being of a certain age? Dead trees? How depressing is that? I have those concerns myself. In reading Face Book the past few days, the mood is not good. For some the election results have depressed you and then the double whammy of Princess Leia and her mom Queen Leia has really taken the wind out of your sails. And now the Sharritt's want to write about being of a certain age. Before you reach for your favorite antide- pressant, please hear us out. We aren't in denial about getting older, but we are choosing to think of if like a tomato that is just getting ripe. Things have really gotten interesting now that we have become a couple of a certain age.
The lovely Miss Beverly, becoming a person of a certain age, embarked on a job search in the spring to see what other things a teacher for the blind with 20 years experience might do in the big wide world. She found that PATINS, a statewide service supporting technology and inclusion for all learners was looking for a teacher for the blind with 20 years experience and a creative mindset to be a specialist/ advocate for students with blindness, and their teachers. This has allowed her to travel the state teach- ing about electronic Braille displays, while scouring the countryside for diners with good pie.

Becoming people of a certain age, Roger and Bev's excursion into having nine and ten year old sisters live with us through the Safe Families program ended by be- coming the lovely Aunt Beverly and Uncle Roger, as we are still involved in Vaeh and Viki's life. That grouping has expanding now that their father, Jeff has been re- united with the girls. We have them over and find ways to influence the trajectory of their lives even if it is just a little bit. They nudge us out of our own trajectory too, making sure we don't keep our legs crossed any certain way for too long.

Ben and Grace are doing great. Or rather Ben and Lisa and Grace and Chris are doing great. Becoming people of a certain age, our
family continues to expand. Ben and Lisa will be married next July under the same oak
tree where Chris and Grace were married. Roger has been challenged (in his own garden-of-mythic-proportions mind) to grow a myriad of flowers for the wedding and
stands ready to put his green thumb, and collection of professional equipment to the
test. As he says, with a gleam in his eye, "dirt will be thrown in the air." Grace is raising
oodles of money for the American Cancer Society, and Chris is just a few months away
from having to endure a lifetime of lawyer jokes. Our time together during the holiday
season was a blessing. There is a Psalm (133) that speaks to the blessing of people coming together in unity. I don't know what Hermon Dew flowing down upon the mountain is like but if it is anything like playing exploding kittens with your highly competitive children or sitting around the breakfast table with everyone sharing the experiences of their families of origin, I say let it flow.


Roger has suddenly decided to pursue all of the hobbies from all of the certain ages he's ever been. At the same time. He has a worm composting unit, taking him back to the toddler years of grubbing in the dirt. He continues to garden like the 12-year-old with the legendary cucumber harvest of 1974. A re- newed passion for woodworking takes him back to his 20's and 30's and the tools that have gathered dust in the back of the barn are buzzing again. Also buzzing, he has added bee-keeping to his evenings with two hives this past summer. It's fun to hear him talk about the personalities of each hive (one mean and feisty, the other comparatively laid back). The Kozak's introduced him and the lovely Miss Beverly to Pickle Ball to add another fitness regimen to his enduring passion for riding his bike. He loves writing
the blog and writing Ben and Grace a weekly snail mail letter. Also becoming a person of a
certain age, Roger may have figured out that it is okay to stop. During the RAIN ride with his lovely

daughter Grace, he was able to figure out that you can have a fun 100 mile ride with your daughter or a miserable 160 mile ride to Richmond and chose the fun 100 mile ride. After a delightful first 50 day of riding with Bev and Ben on the Hilly Hundred, he and Bev both woke up feeling like 50 was enough, so he put the bikes on the back of the car and headed home rather than tough it out. Yes, on becoming people of a certain age, I close my eyes and see that perfect tomato on a late July morning. It hasn't warmed up yet and dew is still in the garden. It is a tomato that has been eyed for the past week and a half. It was the first bloom to set fruit and it has been coming with great anticipation. Today it is fully ripe. I have walked to the garden with my salt shaker. The toma- to is carefully picked and salted. I bite in and ahhh . . . joy in this moment of this certain age.

Merry Christmas and all the Blessings of a New Year.

Roger and Bev.