The Hawken Family Newsletter -- It's Too Late to Fix it

I received a gleeful call from The Beast last week.

After weeks of careful planning her favorite project, she was proud to report that the Hawken family newsletter, is finished.

There's a wide variety of things Jake and I dislike about this specific Christmas tradition, but the most unlikable element--by far--is our new found responsiblity of adding content to it.

After drafting my portion of last year’s shamelessly self-congratulating newsletter, I felt I had succinctly and thoroughly summarized the New York experience.

I assumed that, with this task completed, I could, in future editions, focus on more prosaic matters like recently broken bones or the refurnishing of my apartment’s guest bedroom -- the kind of things that get my mother so excited that her eyes roll back into her head.

But NYC, for all its voluminous shortcomings, is a place that does not lend itself to pedestrian fare.

Adding to the excitement of the city is my own inherited narcissism, which, when combined with a major metropolis, finds notably exciting things around every corner.

This trait is obviously the result of a specific gene passed on by my mother which became dominant over my fathers gene which selected for unintentional detached indifference.

None of this really matters now, but I think Gregor Mendel would be happy to know it’s all sorted out.