Editor’s Page: Required Reading

Whenever I think about the holidays, I think about the Simpsons or, more accurately, I think about the Simpson Family Christmas Letter.

I never met this family, but they played a pivotal role in my early life. See, the Simpsons were friends of my parents back in their pre-kid days or, as my mom likes to refer to that period in her life, “the last time I was ever truly happy.” Then one day, Mr. Simpson (no resemblance to Homer) got a job in the Midwest, and he and his wife, Tonya, disappeared from my parents’ lives forever.

At least that’s what my parents thought until, more than a decade after the Simpsons went west, an envelope showed up in our mailbox containing the most absurd, boastful, swagger-filled holiday letter I’ve ever read. In the years since the Simpsons left Pennsylvania, not only had they multiplied (three children, one dog and a hamster), they’d also apparently taken over the entire Midwest.

Here’s an example of the type of modest prose you’d find inside the letter: “Leanne, 8. We knew our little LeLe was special when she began reading US her bedtime stories shortly after her third birthday, but the sheer depth of her intellectual capacity is mind-boggling. The other day I saw her filling in The Times crossword puzzle … in pen! Despite our suggestions that LeLe skip a grade or two, her teacher insists that our future neurosurgeon is perfectly fine where she’s at. Of course, Tonya is insisting on a second opinion ...”

You get the idea. My mom’s first response: “They used to be such a quiet couple. What happened to them?” My response: This is amazing! Please, please, please don’t stop sending us these letters.

For four or five years, the Simpsons heeded my wishes, and each year’s letter got progressively more outlandish. On Christmas Eve, friends and family would gather at our house and listen as my best friend Greg and I did a dramatic reading of the “The Letter.” It became a tradition. At some point, I couldn’t even remember a holiday season before The Letter. The Simpsons became synonymous with Christmas.

So why the heck am I rambling on about Christmas letters from my youth? Well, for starters, I felt this little anecdote in the Editor’s Page was fitting for an end-of-the-year issue that included several holiday-themed stories — two Ideas That Work, a Gift Guide and, of course, the annual Behind Closed Doors Holiday Column. Speaking of our longtime humor writer, Ms. Watkins just told me that, after nearly two decades, she is officially retiring from her role as an Outpatient Surgery Magazine columnist. Paula’s “Behind Closed Doors” column has been a part of the magazine long before I have, and like the Simpsons’ Christmas Letter, it appeared out of nowhere, bringing both joy and confusion to everyone in its orbit.

According to lore, Paula approached our editor-in-chief at a conference back in the early aughts and proclaimed matter-of-factly: “I’m going to write a humor column for your magazine someday.” What happened next varies depending on whom you ask, but regardless of the details, she did wind up writing that column for many, many years. Here’s a version of one of her earliest columns: osmag.net/column.

If you’ve enjoyed Paula’s work with the magazine or simply want to wish her well, feel free to reach out to her at [email protected]. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you. In the meantime, we are actively looking for a new humor columnist to fill the void left by Paula’s retirement. If you think you have what it takes or you know someone who does, please contact me at [email protected].

On behalf of the entire staff here, thank you for reading and have a wonderful holiday season and a Happy New Year. We’ll see you in 2024! OSM