Dear Santa:
You probably weren’t expecting a Christmas letter from me since I’m about to turn 72 — no birthday presents needed, your generosity is already over the top. The rooftop, even.

I haven’t been in touch because I’ve been sort of busy. I know my busy-ness is nothing compared to your enterprises: Reindeer Express, Global Gifting, and Elves ’N Things, to name a few.

I’ve grown up, despite resistance in my teens and early adulthood. There was some naughtiness, if you know what I mean. Were you still keeping tabs on me then? If so, don’t hold it against me, Santa. As you well know, the executive function part of the male brain is slow to develop, if ever.

Anyway, special thanks for the Strat-o-Matic baseball game I got when I was around 12. Putting Ted Williams and Babe Ruth in the lineup really paid off. It made my younger brother mad when I won our first game with a walk-off homer, but we settled our differences without bloodshed. Bloody noses shouldn’t count, Santa. Some kids get them so easily that it's not anyone’s fault.

So how are things at the old North Pole? Is Mrs. Santa OK? Are you on Medicare, or do you self-insure? Health insurance is a big deal at our house these days, pretty much numero uno. Do you ever fly down to see our specialists, or do the elves get medical training? I bet it’s “eat two candy canes and call me in the morning” with them. 

Here, it’s call us in six months and we’ll see you whenever, if we don’t happen to cancel. 

But Dede and I are fine, for now. By the way, Santa, I had a triple bypass in 2023 and it went nothing like the Operation board game my best friend had in the 1960s. But all’s well that ends well, especially with major surgery. 

Speaking on behalf of the Upper Valley, where I’ve lived for more than 40 years (of course you know that — your database is the stuff of legend) we’ve all tried to be good this year. There were a few bumps in the road, since a national election doesn’t bring out our best. 

It’s also hard not to be grumpy when property taxes are soaring, eggs cost more than jewelry, and bike and travel lanes in Hartford are marked like mysterious Mayan artifacts.

A white Christmas isn’t a sure thing in the Upper Valley anymore, Santa. It’s a little bit sad. I’m not saying I can prove there’s climate change, but if you have to start wearing shorts and a holiday T-shirt in December … let’s just say that’s not a good look for a substantial guy like you.

Speaking of Christmas, I bet you’ve dropped your naughty or nice ratings for your little fans. I can’t say kids these days are any better; there’s probably considerable backsliding. Now they are graded on a curve from wonderful to amazing. Any low points are in the “not their fault” zone. Just ask any school teacher for details.

I wanted to share a story with you, Santa. About 10 years ago, or maybe more, one of your “helpers’’ dressed up like you at a community hospital where I was working. He used to go up to staff members and other adults and ask them with twinkly eyes, “Have YOU been a good little girl (or boy) this year?” The answers were funny, and sometimes a little risque.

He approached an elderly patient who’d been there awhile and looked somewhat crabby in her bed. She surprised him with a sassy response: “Frankly, Santa … I’ve been a bitch.”

Ho, ho, ho.

All things considered, I have been pretty good this year, Santa. No subpoenas, no indictments. You don’t need to stop at my house unless you want to talk about the Red Sox — or fun with arthritis.

I’m not in it for the presents anymore. We just want our grown kids (and our granddaughter, our little marvel!) to be happy and for nobody to monkey with Social Security. I’d like peace on Earth, or at least in my recliner. 

One more thing. Whatever you do, tell Rudolph and the team to be on red alert. Watch out for mystery drones. I’m sure you have your own intel on them, but I’m reminding you just in case. And if the elves are undocumented, which I think they might be, take care at the border!

Oh, and be careful with rooftop landings. A lot of us in the Upper Valley have solar panels now. Good for the planet, but tricky for reindeer.

I suppose I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. It’s always been that way. Thanks for everything, Santa. 

Dan Mackie lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.