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Special to the Daily
Meg Weldon, seen here learning to drive with her brave grandfather last summer, celebrates a big one today. “Happy Sweet 16, Meg! Love, Mom, Jon & Lily.”
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ENLARGE
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Wedding bells
If you know these folks: “Please join us for the McNeil/Fleischer wedding reception on Saturday Saturday at 4 pm at the RMBC Church Annex building on 6th and Main in
Frisco. Please call Dylan at (303) 901-3128 to RSVP.” Congrats!
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Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the word's only daily column that's concerned about yet another bureaucratic decision that will make life just a little bit less sweet for thousands of kids. We're talking, of course, about the U.S. Postal Service deciding that it will limit a Letters-to-Santa program that has brought joy to the hearts of countless toddlers through the years.
MILLIONS OF SUMMIT UP READERS: “What the heck? It's not just toddlers. We're grown up, and we love sending letters to Santa and getting an answer with that North Pole stamp on it. Tell us more!”
SUMMIT UP: OK. As we understand it, the postal service wants to require some sort of computerized name-check with this deal, which basically makes the whole thing so cumbersome that it just won't happen. No longer will the young-at-heart be able to send letters generically addressed to Santa, North Pole, and have them answered by volunteers living in a small Alaska town with that name.
MSUR: “That just stinks. We love the USPS for all it does, especially around the holidays, but this sounds like some higher-up got his knickers in a twist and started feeling all Grinch-y. What can we do?”
SU: Not sure, but probably writing a letter to the chief of the Postal Service, who is called the Postmaster General. We think he/she ranks up their with the Surgeon General, but somewhere below the Attorney General. At one time, all the way through 1971, by the way, this was a cabinet-level position, and the Postmaster General was in the line of succession for the presidency of the United States.
MSUR: “Really? That's fascinating. See, that's why we read this column, just to learn perfectly useless bits of trivia that we can use at cocktail parties. We can hardly wait for the holiday party season to come around, so we can impress our friends. We can see it now. We'll stand there suavely holding a mug of hot cocoa laced with peppermint schnapps, and say, ‘By the way, did you know that Postmaster General was in the line of succession for the presidency until 1971?'”
SU: You go for it. But in the meantime, think about those poor residents of North Pole, Alaska, who are royally PO'd about this decision. And all the kids who will send letters without getting an answer, causing them to doubt the very existence of the jolly big guy in the fluffy red suit. Sheesh, the politics of Christmas ‹ grand, ain't it?
MSUR: “Oh, we could go on and on. We have this real love-hate thing with Christmas, where we get all excited about eggnog, and unraveling strands of lights (did we ever tell you about the time our lights were so tangled in our tree that we had to cut them out), but anxious about picking out the right gifts and getting run over by an errant flying sled.”
SU: Well, let's get through Turkey Day first and then we'll worry about everything else.
MILLIONS OF SUMMIT UP READERS: “What the heck? It's not just toddlers. We're grown up, and we love sending letters to Santa and getting an answer with that North Pole stamp on it. Tell us more!”
SUMMIT UP: OK. As we understand it, the postal service wants to require some sort of computerized name-check with this deal, which basically makes the whole thing so cumbersome that it just won't happen. No longer will the young-at-heart be able to send letters generically addressed to Santa, North Pole, and have them answered by volunteers living in a small Alaska town with that name.
MSUR: “That just stinks. We love the USPS for all it does, especially around the holidays, but this sounds like some higher-up got his knickers in a twist and started feeling all Grinch-y. What can we do?”
SU: Not sure, but probably writing a letter to the chief of the Postal Service, who is called the Postmaster General. We think he/she ranks up their with the Surgeon General, but somewhere below the Attorney General. At one time, all the way through 1971, by the way, this was a cabinet-level position, and the Postmaster General was in the line of succession for the presidency of the United States.
MSUR: “Really? That's fascinating. See, that's why we read this column, just to learn perfectly useless bits of trivia that we can use at cocktail parties. We can hardly wait for the holiday party season to come around, so we can impress our friends. We can see it now. We'll stand there suavely holding a mug of hot cocoa laced with peppermint schnapps, and say, ‘By the way, did you know that Postmaster General was in the line of succession for the presidency until 1971?'”
SU: You go for it. But in the meantime, think about those poor residents of North Pole, Alaska, who are royally PO'd about this decision. And all the kids who will send letters without getting an answer, causing them to doubt the very existence of the jolly big guy in the fluffy red suit. Sheesh, the politics of Christmas ‹ grand, ain't it?
MSUR: “Oh, we could go on and on. We have this real love-hate thing with Christmas, where we get all excited about eggnog, and unraveling strands of lights (did we ever tell you about the time our lights were so tangled in our tree that we had to cut them out), but anxious about picking out the right gifts and getting run over by an errant flying sled.”
SU: Well, let's get through Turkey Day first and then we'll worry about everything else.
