Tim's annual letter

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December 2021

Dear Family and Friends,

Season’s Greetings from Whitefish, Montana, named the friendliest city in America by Expedia—and we’re very upset about that. It was supposed to be a secret. The local bumper sticker informs visitors, “MONTANA IS FULL! I hear that North Dakota is nice.” After having record crowds here for skiing and visiting Glacier Park, we were looking forward to a quiet fall, but then the northern border re-opened to tourist traffic for the first time in over a year, and we had a big influx of tourists from up there: Whitefish—Canada’s Tijuana.??

Whatever its other virtues, this has been a good place to ride out COVID. Glenda, who hates going out in public and finding the public is there, took all the restrictions seriously: Don’t join groups of people. Stay outdoors (and hike). Avoid contact. Remain six feet apart. (Why so close?) Wear a mask (which is a good excuse for not talking at all). So she never got COVID, though she was edged out by Sasquatch in the Northwestern Social Distancing Championship. What she couldn’t figure out was how I managed to avoid the bug. I got in as much human contact as I could, at the gym, the diner, a meeting, or just walking down the one-way grocery aisles in the wrong direction. When playing football, I’m never sent out for a pass; I guess I can’t catch a virus either.

Some visitors were welcome, of course. Karin took time off from her bank job and the “Escape from Alcatraz” swim in San Francisco Bay (No, she wasn’t sent to Alcatraz for pulling a bank job) to join us for cross-country skiing. And grandson Max went to high school remotely when he came up for a week of downhill skiing. Last summer, we had everybody here: In June, son John got leave to bring his friend Alli up for a visit before flying his V-22 Osprey from San Diego to the carrier USS Essex for a seven-month deployment. So son Mark&Stephanie; daughters Karin; Erika; and sister Sally&Richard came up to see them and us for a few days on Lake McDonald. In July, daughter Grete&Andy, Trygve, Glen, and Adrian were able to come “home” to America from Switzerland for the first time in two years and join us, along with Erika&Kurt, Max, and Kaia; daughter Margit&Itty and Rio; and Karin. ?

?Having so many youngsters around was great, though it did make me feel my age. Instead of ties for Father’s Day, this year my children decided appropriate gifts were a squatty potty and orthotic flip-flops. The grandchildren, of course, listen wide-eyed to my stories from the olden days, when we used to eat cake after someone had blown on it, and had so much toilet paper we threw rolls of it over trees for fun. They think that must make me ancient, although they’re sure I’m joking when I tell them I’m older than Google. I don’t feel particularly old, although the evidence is mounting: I’m producing coffee pot noises, and I’ve discovered that making an actual note usually works better than trying to make a mental one. ????????????????????????????

We’re trying to stay active, of course. We got out for downhill and cross-country skiing last season, and are looking forward to more of both this winter. We get to the gym for weight-lifting, Pilates, barre, swimming, and yoga (used to be called Twister). Glenda’s an avid hiker, and I got a FitBit, which has made me a so-so walker. We got to travel to see the kids in California and Albuquerque during a COVID lull in April. But my plans for skippering a 44-foot catamaran and a crew of 10 around Sardinia for two weeks had to be postponed for a year—again—so I made do by kayaking with Glenda down the Whitefish River this fall. We go to reading groups, Bible studies, choir practice (singing Handel’s Messiah this month), history talks, baseball games, concerts, and local theatre productions. I haven’t joined that troupe yet, but I did get made-up as the bad guy for some videos we recorded for use at Vacation Bible School back in Virginia. Church here in Whitefish is easing back toward normal: We’ve started singing again and I do some chanting. We’re still posting a short online version of my sermon each week (www.stpeterwhitefish.org), but most of our members are back in the pews. And when they aren’t, they call their friends to find out what my “sermon joke” was that day—usually an Uncle Torvald story.

?I’m also trying to live healthier: After years of intermittent effort, I finally got my brain cells down to a manageable number and have now joined Glenda as a “sober curious” teetotaler. Some folks have asked if that was hard, but I haven’t found it so. Besides, since COVID my hands were consuming more alcohol than my mouth anyway. I also resolved to lose 10 pounds this year, but instead of melting, my winter fat turned into spring rolls. So with one month left, I’ve got 15 more to go. Part of the problem is that, like a computer, I use cookies to improve my performance. As a result, instead of a Father Figure, I’m now regarded as a Dad Bod.

I’ve also been working on my Montana persona. A friend invited me to join his group of hunters heading into a local wilderness area for nine days in September, so I signed on. Some of our church members—concerned that I’d embarrass them by showing up with price tags still dangling from my outfit—loaned me appropriate clothing and weaponry. The elk and deer apparently heard I was coming and fled in panic, `cuz we never saw any to shoot at.?But I learned to roundup, saddle, feed, curry, and ride the horses. Whoop-ee-ti-yi-o!

?While I was out in the wilderness looking for game, the bears were patrolling our neighborhood looking for food.?When I got back, there were muddy paw prints crossing our front walk and driveway enroute to the trash can—right where I walk in pre-dawn darkness to get to my car. As I peer cautiously out the front door each morning, I find myself wondering how effectively I could fend off a hungry grizzly using a plastic ice scraper.

?Bears aside, we feel very blessed to find ourselves here in Whitefish in this season of our lives. We enjoy traveling to see family and friends, but are always glad to come home—where we hope to host some of you in 2022.

?Our love to all,

Tim & Glenda Christenson?