Dear Family, Friends, Acquaintances, Ex-lovers, and Others Who Have Drifted Away;

Well, kids, it's that time of year again! The pounds of leftover turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes have barely been gotten rid of (it's conversational in tone--let the grammar mistakes go...) , and already Hallmark is cramming another $80 Star Trek ornament down our collective throats.

Already hundreds of Mall Santas are liquoring up in anticipation of that first leaking child of the day.

Already school districts across the nation (after first ignoring my application for employment) are wondering how to have holiday celebrations that delete all mentions of Christ, Santa, Christmas, Hanukkah, and Bethlahem, satisfying nobody, and yet still manage to make the evening news.

As Tom Lehrer (kind of) sang: "Fill the cup and don't say when."

The beginning of this year found me rather easily. It wasn't looking very hard, but, then again, I wasn't hiding at all.

I had been substitute teaching here in San Francisco during the fall semester, and I continued doing that from January until June, when school ended. Sometimes, I would get called every day. Other times, I would wait for a week or so before I got another job. On the one hand, it was kind of nice not to have the responsibilities of a full-time classroom. Weighing in on the other hand, however, was the empty wallet and the lack of respect from the district, most schools, and a lot of other teachers. Not only that, I simply like having my own class. More on that later.

In February, I met Eve, the woman I am very much in love with. We've been together ever since, very happily, and we're talking about moving in together sometime in the next few months. She's incredibly smart, very funny (and occasionally sarcastic), has a great smile (and hot bod to match), really big hair, and makes more money than I do. Pinch me, I must be dreaming. This past summer, we visited my parents and everybody liked everybody else. Cool.

We also visited Disneyland at that time, where Eve got quite a big kick out of watching me act like (in her words) "a little kid! That's so cute!" Imagine that.

As the school year wound down, April and May, I started sending out applications to various local school districts, private schools, tutoring centers, and children's museums. At last count, it was over forty applications. All summer I collected unemployment and waited. Not one of them came a cropper. No callbacks, no interviews, nada. Either about eighty people applied for every position that I did, or there was a second teacher on that grassy knoll.

Something like that.

Anyway, in a few months, I'll start the whole process over again, marvelling at my Sysyphian qualities of determination, holding fast to my optimistic outlook, and second-guessing every single decision I've made in my life so far.

It's gonna be a long winter.

In the meantime, right now I'm working at the Postal credit union I worked at back in '94. One of the tellers is on maternity leave and they asked me to step in for her while she is gone. The possibility of a regular paycheck tickled me in places that haven't been tickled for years, so I quickly affirmed. She is supposed to be back in January. We'll see.

This year was the first year in the last five that I didn't work for GYRO's World of Terror. I left the organization back in August with a lot of conflicting emotions and plenty of ennui. It simply wasn't fun or even interesting anymore, and when Uncle Mike loses interest in a Halloween project, you know something's really wrong. In an act of selfish self-preservation I chewed my own leg off and left without a backward glance.

Until October. I went back to the event just to dress up and scare people every so often. It was incredibly refreshing and invigorating to have no real responsibility anymore. I really enjoyed doing that, and that experience helped save all the good feelings about GYRO that I still had. Still have. I don't quite know what my future involvement with the haunted house will be, but I'll let you know as soon as I do.

Also during October, I flew to Orange County to go to Knott's Scary Farm's Halloween Haunt, for the first time in about three years. It was as scary and enjoyable as ever, and I had somehow forgotten how much I loved it. I'm really looking forward to next year's.

Thanksgiving was supposed to be spent at Eve's parent's place, with Eve (ably assisted by yours truly) providing most of the victuals, and everybody having a marvelous time. Unfortunately, my little sweetheart got really sick (vomiting, fever, the whole works) the night before Thanksgiving, so we had to cancel. Yuck.

Christmas will be spent in beautiful suburban Laguna Hills with my family, mi familia (Eve too!). Come, feel the warmth with us.

Which brings us full circle again, kiddies. Hope your year was a good one. Take care, play safe, and keep on recycling. -----------------------------18419870841526656361755869734 Content-Disposition: form-data; name="userfile"; filename="xmas97.html" Content-Type: text/html

Dear Family, Friends, and other Hangers-on,

You can tell from the abundance of frosty breath and erect nipples, itās about that time again, aināt it kids? Time to throw another yule log on the fire, snuggle up to someone youāre not currently fighting with, and share in the warmth that is my annual ćWhat Mike Has Been Up To For The Last Twelve Monthsä letter (although the missive you now hold in your hot little hands reviews the previous twenty-four months--just go with it, Īkay?).

The last time you received one of these was waaay back in 1995. Eons ago. Weāve got a ton of stuff to chat about--shall we get crackinā?

As you may or may not remember, when last we left our intrepid hero (me), I was madly in love with a woman named Eve, still couldnāt find a permanent teaching job, and was contemplating the universal truths to be found in my navel.

Soon thereafter, Eve broke my heart (he said, quickly, and with malice towards none), I sold a goodly portion of my earthly belongings, and flew to South Korea for a year.

And, yes, it was almost that fast.

My time in Pusan, Korea (April Ī96 to April Ī97) was the absolute best experience of my entire life (he said, through the magic of 20/20 hindsight), but naturally I didnāt know it at the time.

My first three months (or so) there were hell. Grade AAA, emotionally wrenching, frustratingly lonely hell. I was in a foreign country, a million miles (or so) away from what I considered my home; I couldnāt read the street signs, couldnāt understand the people who talked to me, and would spend hours looking at a jar in the grocery store trying to figure out if it was full of spaghetti sauce or pepper paste.

Many was the time that I seriously considered taking all of my next salary and grabbing the next flight outta there. My contract was for a year, but I was this close (my thumb and forefinger are about an inch and a half apart right now) to bailing out a few times.

And then...and then...I started learning the language. I started meeting other people. I started learning the bus routes and the subway lines. I found McDonaldās, Pizza Hut, and movie theaters.

And, I started to write about it.

Jim Fortney, editor extraordinaire at Big World magazine, liked the few columns I had sent him about life in Korea, and he asked for more. I ended up writing fifteen or so for him, and theyāre still being published on a semi-monthly basis there.

Itās official. Iām a real columnist. Bar the door and hide your daughters.

So, while that was going on, I was also teaching. Iād never taught English as a second language before, and Iād never taught non-English speakers before, but there I was.

I was a quick learner.

There is a certain advantage to being 6ā2ä and weighing over 250 pounds when youāre dealing with a group of unruly, tiny, thin Korean kids. I was the biggest, tallest, hairiest thing theyād ever seen. And I was there to teach them English.

Boy howdy.

I honestly donāt think that Iāve ever had more fun teaching a group of kids than when I was in Korea. I had nearly a hundred students, ranging from 4 year years old to 17 years old, split up between 18 or so classes. They were some of the most energetic, enthusiastic, and giggly bunch of folks Iād ever encountered. When I think of all the things we did together (the 2-hour bus ride to the snow, the English-language performance for parents, the pizza parties to celebrate the completion of another textbook, explaining Halloween and watching them eat candy corn for the first time, teaching them how to sing ćFish Headsä), I realize that I got much more from them than they ever got from me.

When I left for Korea, I was disgusted with teaching, and wasnāt sure if I ever wanted to see the inside of another classroom again.

When I returned from Korea, I couldnāt wait to get back into the classroom.

Quite simply, my Korean students gave me back the joy of teaching.

And I gave them Halloween and ćFish Heads.ä Hmmmm...maybe they got the better part of the deal after all.

Eve and I were still talking and trying to make some sense out of the (admittedly long-distance) relationship we still (kind of) had. At or around the six-month mark of my stay in Korea, she flew to Pusan for two weeks, and we had a pretty great time. So, when the time came for me to return to the states, we decided to move in together, and see if we could actually make this...this thing we had between us work.

Let me re-phrase that. We didnāt decide to move in together. I gave her an ultimatum and she let me move in to her apartment.

You can just about taste the impending disaster, canāt you?

About two weeks after I came back home, I got a job at a private Montessori school in Palo Alto, about 40 miles south of San Francisco, as an assistant teacher. It wasnāt exactly what I was looking for, but it was the first job offer Iād had in over a year.

Iām still there.

Basically, what I do is bounce back and forth between two different classes, helping the head teacher out with whatever they want. I also teach P.E. 4 times a week, and teach Art...um, whenever. Itās a good school, with great kids, but Iām a little anxious for a classroom of my own (again!). Sometime next year, Iām sure Iāll be moseying on over to the public schools, yet again.

About 12 minutes after I got back from Korea, I went to my first meeting for that haunted house I canāt quite seem to shake off. I re-joined the Design Committee, built a small room, acted every once in a while, and had the absolute best experience that Iāve ever had at that thing. Unlike most years, I canāt wait for next yearās event.

Knottās Berry Farm held their 25th Annual Halloween Haunt in October, too. I was there, along with a whole bunch of my incredibly cool friends. We all camped out at my mom and dadās house (and managed to sneak in a visit to Six Flags Magic Mountain, too). I think that Iāve attended 21 of these fun, scary, outrageous Haunts, beginning way back in 1972, with host ćSeymour,ä my fave local fright flick guy. Ah, memories.

Also in the ćFun Things I Did For Freeä department was this yearās Renaissance Pleasure Faire. Once again, I was the peasant baker Emmanuel, dancing, capering, eating, and sleeping at Chipping-Under-Oakwood, in Novato. Unfortunately, I couldnāt be there the last two weekends of Faire, because.....

.....Eveās mother went into the hospital for a knee operation and ended up in Intensive Care with a cancer diagnosis.....

.....and Eve started spending days at a time at the hospital....

.....and complaining that I wasnāt doing enough around the house for her....

.....and so I quit Renaissance Faire to spend more time at home, for her....

.....and she said that it was too little, too late, and that she just couldnāt have an insensitive, irresponsible person like me in her life anymore.

It seemed, and not for the first time, either, that she and I had a difference of opinion about some important issues in our relationship Īcuz, frankly, I think I worked my butt off trying to keep us together. I mean, I know that I made some mistakes, and Iāll be happy to list them for anyone brave enough to buy me a drink, but I also know that, for the most part, I have performed above and beyond the call of boyfriend duty.

But thatās my opinion. Buy her a drink, and youāll get hers.

So here it is, Christmastime.

Again.

And here I am, single.

Again.

And here you are, reading all about it.

Again.

(sigh)

Donāt we have anything better to do?

You betcha we do! We can celebrate Christmas in totally tacky, commercial, over-spending ways! We can gather at parties and watch animated holiday specials with other members of our peer group and pretend that we are actually having a moving, bonding experience! We can gorge ourselves on cream cheese pies and dark chocolate fudge and big slabs of ham with mashed potatoes and gravy! And then, in January, we can look at the bills and the waistlines and foolishly mutter, ć...never again, never again....ä before starting the inevitable slide towards next December.

They canāt do these kinds of things in Red China, you know.

God bless America.

And God bless us, everyone, dammit. -----------------------------18419870841526656361755869734 Content-Disposition: form-data; name="userfile"; filename="xmas98.html" Content-Type: text/html

Hello, pumpkins!

Yes, itās that time of year again, kiddies--time to chug the nog, pinch some rosy red cheeks, and hang that sprig of mistletoe over one of your body parts.

Your choice.

Gather around, my tender little lumplings, and let me elucidate the incredible tale of Uncle Mikeās 1998 adventures.

As the year began, I was still working at Heads Up! Montessori School in Palo Alto, same as I had been since I returned from South Korea in April of last year. I was working in two different classrooms, teaching (or,rather, assistant teaching) kids who were 5 to 12 years old. I really liked the other teachers and the students, but I wasnāt too keen on the schedule (9:00 to 6:00, very nearly every day of the year--no summers off, no Christmas break), and I wasnāt too keen on just helping out in somebody elseās classroom.

With my keen level dropping, I realized that I needed to teach my own class in the public schools in order to be Truly Happy and find the path to Enlightenment. Or Nirvana. Or, at the very least, Pearl Jam.

Thus began my very lengthy and drawn-out process of applying to the various school districts in and around the San Francisco Bay Area.

I tried to do this surreptitiously at first: sneaking out from work for a ćlong lunch,ä changing my clothes in the parking lot, driving like a bat out of hell in order to get to the interview on time, trying not to look at my watch throughout the interview, tying my tie with one hand while shifting with the other and steering with the third.

Such fun.

Between April 15 and June 24, I had 16 interviews. Think about that for just a second.

By the time June 24th rolled around, I had tentative offers from three different school districts. When I first started this whole mess, I made a promise with myself that the first district that offered me a contract would get me.

Oh, lucky Newark.

On September 8th, 1998 (National Literacy Day--go figure), I started teaching a whole kit & kaboodle of very rambunctious, vocal, hormonal, and cool-as-hell 6th graders (kit=16, kaboodle=14, total=30). I love my job, I love my class, and I love the other teachers at my school. I donāt think Iāve ever been this happy in a job before, and I hope to stay put for quite a while.

This summer I did not work at the Renaissance Pleasure Faire, even though it was their (ćHonest! We Swear To God Weāre Leaving This Timeä) last year at that site. With me working full time throughout July and August and preparing my new classroom in September, I just couldnāt find the time.

But did I find the time to work at The World of Terror, the universeās most incredible, scary, and bloodily fun haunted house, now in itās tenth year?

Hey, thereās always time for terror.

In November I drove (and drove and drove...) to Paradise and had an incredibly nice, relaxing, wonderful, and deee-lishus Thanksgiving at my maternal grandparentās home. We watched The Parade, The Game, a really cool Magic special (as the guest, I got the remote and the comfy chair), and reminisced about the time when I was a baby and Grandma had to stay up with me aaalllllll night and rock me because I had the croup.

And I thought Jews were good at guilt. Jesus, Grandma, enough with that story!

In December I will be trekking to Lost Wages to spend a few days bonding with my Ÿber-cool parents and my sister (a.k.a. She Who Has A New Job Teaching 8th Grade Science--way to go, Sis!!!), and then weāll all drive (and drive and drive...) down to Orange County where weāll exchange gifts, and then exchange gifts.

Iāll be looking for that Red Rider 200-Shot Bolt-Action BB Gun With A Compass In The Stock And This Thing That Tells Time.

Hope I donāt shoot my eye out.

Beast wishes for this delightfully chilly holiday season! Hope everything is going well for you and yours, and I really do wish that you guys would get that Y2K problem straightened out, Īcause my underground bunker just barely has enough room for my food and my GYRO t-shirts.

Party like itās MCMLIL, yāall.