Christmastime 2002

Dear Fellow Infidels,

Yes, indeed, time for another of our annual reports from Indiana’s third-world hovel. Things in Bedrock have been quite eventful this year, especially in light of our impending war with Saddam Insane. Though Bedford is largely a Republican stronghold, it has been discovered that there is a closet minority of liberals resident in our fair burg. They came out in force this summer under the tutelage of Miss Holly Wainwright who saw the war as an opportunity to relive her misspent youth as a hippie antiwar protester.

Sad to say, time has not been kind to Miss Holly, as she is no longer the lithe cutey she was back in '68. Her waist-length brown hair now seems even mousier than ever when adorned with bright garlands of nasturtiums, and it must be admitted she has added not a few pounds to her erstwhile shapely midline. Nevertheless she has maintained her wardrobe from days of yore and for ages has served principally as the community’s best argument against an I.U. education. Gifted with a tolerable amount of charisma and oratory skills, however, she did manage to gather around herself a small coterie of local teenage boys who were probably taken in more by her messages of free love than of world peace. Several times an ugly scene was only just averted as she gathered her entourage for meetings at the local coffeehouse where her sit-ins were often trampled by some of the GM patrons of Rusty’s Bar next door. Reverend Peterson and other local leaders made valiant attempts to curtail her realm of influence over these impressionable youths, but no legal remedy was ever found to resolve the situation.

Things took an opposite turn, however, after she took her troupe to the Hoosier National Forest for a trek through the wilds to “get in touch with nature.” Her fracas was billed &$#147clothing optional,” but in the event it seems she was the only one who took the option. The sight was such that her following quickly disbanded, and the vision of a 55-year-old debutante traipsing through the woods in her altogether inspired two of her peaceniks to join the Marines, thus averting another major affront to our communal pride.

None of the Craton offspring was taken in by the movement, we’re glad to say, and they remain as abnormal as ever. Ben finished his high school career this spring and spent the summer honing up on his bumming skills. He is now studying nuclear engineering at Purdue University where he is also a midshipman in the Navy ROTC program. It would appear that those frightful science projects he did in grade school which sent several of his classmates to the intensive-care unit after testing out his “Quantum Tanner” have paid off after all. The lad remains single, but contenders should line up quickly as he’s currently rather smitten and his availability is not likely long to last.

Jon too has acquired a feminine sidekick as he enters his sixteenth year, and continues puffing away on his bassoon in the school band. His real passions appear to be physics and computer gaming, however, and, though highway eligible, he is one of those rare teenagers who abhors driving. He loves having a car sit in the driveway, though, and takes great delight in looking at it from his bedroom window.

Stephen has joined the teen world now as well and is in junior high. His current project is developing a way to connect himself directly to the internet without the need for a computer interface. He is more and more starting to resemble the Borg, and try as we might to dissuade him from his addiction he insists that resistance is futile.

Dr. Mom continues treating the halt and maim and had to mourn the passing of her little red zoom car this fall as it expired quite unexpectedly. She now has joined the ranks of the politically incorrect by commanding an SUV through our hamlet’s biways. The feeling of power she has long felt while draining sebaceous cysts now is carried over to her driving habits, and the local wildlife and environmentalist wackos run for cover at the mere hint of her approach.

Old John still harangues violin students with his vast store of knowledge and has been doing a bit more composing as his performing days seem near an end. The latter was due to a stray cat who chose to play music critic and chewed through his right index finger this fall just after hearing him play the Ton de Leeuw violin sonata. Luckily John was able to keep the finger (a good thing, too, since he’d grown rather attached to it), but it is permanently maimed and serves principally to provide a perch for homeless sparrows. He’s rather depressed about it as he can no longer play honky-tonk for drinks down at the Olde Towne Tavern. He did, nevertheless, manage to get a good quality set of catgut strings out of the bargain.

And on that note (do pardon, pray) we wish our readers the quintessential holiday greeting and trust all will have a profitable and meaningful New Year.

The Cratons (including all mammals & reptiles resident thereunto)
John, Debbie, Ben, Jon, & Stephen Craton, et al.

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