Tim Christenson's 2018 Christmas letter

Tim Christenson's 2018 Christmas Letter        [email protected]                                      December 2018

Dear family and friends,

We had some big changes around here this year (like that’s never happened before). I retired from my civilian job at National Intelligence University (NIU) at the end of May, the first time since 1975 that I haven’t been connected to DoD somehow. I’m still working part-time at church, so Glenda can send me off to the office when I get in her way: “I married you for better or worse, but not for lunch!” Speaking of lunch, I’ve been on pins and needles since we got married 43 years ago, wondering (as Paul McCartney put it), “Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I’m 64?” Well, I’m not sure if she needs me, but she kept right on feeding me after 4 April this year, so perhaps my fears were unfounded. (Another thing I’ve been worried about is the easy public access to my office at church. It was pretty hard for strangers to get to my desk at NIU, but I worry now that someday the world’s best dad is gonna show up at my desk to reclaim his rightful coffee mug.) In addition to church work, I’ve been filling out my schedule with some acting, directing, and scene study classes at the Shakespeare Theatre Company in DC; teaching classes and skippering training sails for the Pentagon Sailing Club (PSC); ushering at (mostly) Shakespeare plays around town; participating in a couple book clubs—and napping.   

This year also saw the passing of a generation in both the Christenson and the Mueller families. All four of our parents passed away in the 10 months before May of this year. As I reported last year, Glenda’s mother, Helen, died in June. Then as my dad was finishing his daily 4-mile prayer-walk shortly before Christmas last year, he slipped and fell on some snow-covered ice there in Minnesota, banging the back of his head on the asphalt. He walked home, went to the hospital, and then lost consciousness from bleeding into his brain. He passed away on 26 December. After Helen died, Glenn said he told God he was ready to come home too. He stayed long enough to host Karin and John when they came to Montana for a XC ski trip in early February and was still in fine fettle for his big Friends and Family Reunion 100th birthday party on 18 February. He passed away two weeks later. My mother moved into assisted living after Dad’s passing; she was similarly “ready to go.” My planned trip to Northfield last spring to bring her back to Virginia to visit for a few weeks ended up being a deathwatch instead. She passed away quietly on 20 April. 

All this meant, of course, that we had lots of funeral get-togethers in Minnesota and Montana, which were wonderful family occasions, “but next time, let’s have it be for a wedding instead.” No weddings in sight right now, but we got everyone (except Capt John, who’s flying around the western Pacific these days) together for a week in Albuquerque at the end of July. Glenda and I drove out a week early to take over daycare responsibilities for grandson Rio while Margit did more Nurse Practitioner clinicals and Itty worked in the ER. We had it pretty easy: Take Rio over to the Old Town plaza park for a while after breakfast, give him lunch, and put him down for a nap. It warmed the cockles of our hearts when Margit reported that the new phrase Rio had picked up during our visit was Glenda’s “Oh my goodness!” We certainly could have done worse. Max (our first teenage grandchild) flew out from LAX to visit us in June. He and I are both history buffs, so we spent much of his time here at museums (Holocaust, Navy, American History, Natural History, Spy), visiting Gettysburg, and sailing the Chesapeake out of Annapolis. By the time we’d finished our touring, Glenda had returned from Montana. She’d gone out there for her family’s estate sale, which included disposing of the contents (some of them valuable) in the hoarder’s delight house that had been in her family for over 100 years. With that responsibility discharged, she flew to Geneva with Max. Grete took the two of them hiking in the Alps before Glenda flew home, leaving Max for a visit with Aunt Grete, Uncle Andy, and his cousins. They all flew back to the USA together for our July family reunion in New Mexico. I had my own trip to Europe in September to do some grandpa-ing in Geneva with Trygve and Glen. From there, I went down to Corfu and spent a week sailing a 44-foot catamaran to Athens with nine friends from church and PSC. In Baltimore, Mark’s expanding their real estate empire by refurbishing a triplex, while Stephanie prods stodgy bureaucrats into designing smarter buildings for themselves. They came over to Springfield in November for a clan Cousins Dinner when Karin was in town from San Francisco and got to see Kurt when he flew to Baltimore for tactical training with the Secret Service. Back in California, Kaia’s interest in musical theater keeps Erika busy as a stage door mom—when she’s not building hours toward becoming a licensed family counselor. We’ll be seeing Erika, Max, Kaia, Karin, and John in Hawaii after Christmas when we all descend on Margit&Itty and Rio, who are in Hilo for a month-long Emergency Room rotation. 

We’re lighting the Joy candle on our Advent wreath this week. Despite the losses, this season of our lives definitely gives us lots of reasons to rejoice. We pray that that’s true for you as well in the year ahead.

Love,

Tim & Glenda