Dear Family, Now that all my children are grown and two of them are writing their own monthly missives, it at times occurs to me to wonder what I’m supposed to keep writing about every month. But then I remember that, while many of these letters make at least passing reference to my children’s (and…
Author: Timothy Willis
Managing Editor of The Famlet Monthly
On forbidden cupcakes, overstimulated amygdalae, and the underappreciated art of registering one’s dissatisfaction without making a scene (vol. xxvii, no. 9)
Dear Family, Attendees of Carrie’s wedding in Portland earlier this month may have heard something about a boorish (and possibly inebriated) guest who, only seconds after being told for the tenth time in two hours that the dessert table was still off limits, angrily thrust his right paw into the center of a large plate…
On beautiful vistas, happy reunions, and finding solace around the holes our departing children leave (vol. xxvii, no. 8)
Dear Family, A week or two ago, a fellow member of our neighborhood’s informal cycling club was depositing his only child – a girl of extraordinary academic and athletic achievement whom Grace has known since elementary school – at a certain prestigious university in Pennsylvania. He shared with our group of mostly middle-aged dads (and…
On day-dependent patriotism, Sophie’s exhausting-sounding social life, major awards, and the legend of Gabe Ossi (vol. xxvii, no. 7)
Dear Family, I have a complicated relationship with the Fourth of July. This has nothing to do with patriotic ambivalence. Notwithstanding the insanity of our road system, too many d@mn cars, and the lack of a viable political party where I feel I belong, I feel fortunate to have been born here. I am grateful…
On the virtues of tolerable graduation ceremonies, avoiding Beach Week debauchery, and embracing Taylor Swift (vol. xxvii, no. 6)
Dear Family, Certain relatives (and my old friend Colby Jenkins) might be interested to learn that I just signed up to run the St. George Marathon on October 7. Why would someone travel more than 2,000 miles just to run a marathon? I’m so glad you asked! I have completed 13 marathons in my life…
On Grace’s last everything, ill-fitting suits, and yet another new church job (vol. xxvii, no. 5)
Dear Family, If you would have asked me five years ago whether I planned to show up for Grace’s “clap-out” ceremony – that thing where underclassmen line the the halls and clap in recognition of the seniors as they parade around the school and out the front door on their last day of class —…
On Crystal’s new job, Hannah’s old one, and further evidence that I may have been born in the wrong country (vol. xxvii, no. 4)
Dear Family, Before I get to the France trip, let’s get some church business out of the way. A month ago, right around the time I was posting the March letter, the bishopric in which I was a counselor was released. The new bishop happened to be the husband of the Relief Society president, and…
On my youngest daughter turning 18, my youngest brother turning 40, and why counting on sacrament meeting to end on time is a losing strategy (vol. xxvii, no. 3)
Dear Family, The weekend of March 11th/12th was stressful for me, as it was for countless others, perhaps including you. As some of you know (and most of you don’t) I work for a smallish financial technology company. Like a lot of firms fitting that description, my employer had significant monies on deposit at Silicon…
On surviving the Krispy Kreme Challenge, Grace’s university selection, and the never-ending saga of our new oven (vol. xxvii, no. 2)
Dear Family, Let’s get the important news out of the way first. Saturday, February 4th was the 19th annual “Krispy Kreme Challenge,” a five-mile footrace that begins and ends at the North Carolina State University bell tower. It’s a fairly straightforward and not especially memorable out-and-back course – a few noticeable hills but nothing too…
On scenic bluffs, appliance nightmares, and where Grace might very well possibly go to college (vol. xxvii, no. 1)
Dear Family, I am starting to write this letter at 10:22 p.m. on Friday, January 27th, inside my tent at the Marsden Tract Campground perched atop a bluff overlooking the Potomac River a little less than 3 miles south of Great Falls. It’s 30 degrees Fahrenheit, and I suppose I’ll continue typing until my hands…