Love Letters Page #5

...but here they are, and I hope

they say "cheer up."

-I'll put them in her room.

-Thank you.

Hey.

I brought you some flowers.

Did you see them?

Do you like them? Do you like me?

Thank you, Andy.

Thank you for coming

all the way up here.

-How are you doing?

-I'm fine.

Actually, I'm not. It's costing me $550

a day to learn to stop saying that I am.

-How can I help?

-You can't.

I became slightly too dependent

on the old Kickapoo Joy Juice.

A habit which they tell me

I picked up back in the Land of Oz.

Oh, Melissa.

I've got no one to blame but myself.

A fact which makes me slide

into these terrible lows.

Mom says I drag everybody down.

I guess she's right.

You don't drag me down.

You're sweet.

tell that to Darwin.

He took over custody of the girls.

-Oh, God.

-Here I am, popping tranquilizers...

...talking my head off

in single and group sessions...

...becoming one of the biggest

bores in the Boston area.

Have you thought

about painting again?

-I've thought about it.

-You were good, and you know it.

-You should keep it up.

-Maybe I will. I'll channel my rage.

Enlarge my vision. All that.

-How about you?

-You know, life goes on.

Does it? I'd forgotten.

I'm doing a lot of corporation law.

-Do you like it?

-Not enough.

I'm seriously thinking

of getting into politics.

Oh, my.

At a local level.

State legislature maybe.

You'll win. You always do.

-Thanks.

-And how about...?

Wait.

It's sloshing around in the cellar

of my leaky old memory bank.

Got it.

How about Jane?

Oh, she's fine.

Fine? That's a dirty word

around here.

She's pregnant, actually.

-Does she barf before breakfast?

-She does.

tell her welcome to the club.

It's time for your medication, Melissa.

You'd better go, Andy.

These things, they make me

soggy and hard to light.

-Well, that's okay.

-I'd bore the pants off you.

-Never.

-Just go, Andy.

You were wonderful

to come, but please....

Please, just don't

come back here again.

I don't like being seen like this,

least of all by you, so....

Please.

Okay.

Merry Christmas from Andy

and Jane Ladd and Andrew IV.

Greetings from Egypt. I'm trying to

start again in the cradle of civilization.

Seasons greetings

from the Ladd family.

Mother wrote you were planning

to marry again?

I was. I did. I'm not now.

Donner, Rhodes and McCalister...

...announce the partnership

of Mr. Andrew M. Ladd III.

Merry Christmas from San Antonio.

I can see the most incredible shapes

from my bedroom window.

And there's a pretty incredible

shape now sleeping in my bed.

I'm planning to run for Congress.

What do you think?

Go for it. I'm thinking

of moving to Los Angeles.

Do you know anyone in Los Angeles?

Does anyone know anyone there?

Joy to the world from all the Ladds:

Andy, Jane, Drew, Nicholas and Ted.

Remind me to send a check

to Planned Parenthood.

Andy and Jane Ladd and family

have moved to....

Merry Christmas.

Hey, you, what's going on?

Just when I move to New York,

you've scampered off to the suburbs.

-I find the suburbs generally safer.

-Chicken.

-You're right.

-Congratulations on your election...

...Congressman Ladd.

Too bad you're a Republican.

I love all politicians...

...but I find Democrats

are better in bed.

I'm a liberal Republican with

a strong position on women's rights.

Doesn't that count?

I suppose it depends

on your position.

Paintings and drawings

by Melissa Gardner.

The Hastings Gallery,

88 Prince Street.

Opening reception,

March 20th, 6 to 8 p.m.

Note I've gone back

to my maiden name. That's a laugh.

I'd love to have one of your paintings.

We could use a little excitement

on our living-room walls.

-What would one cost?

-Come to the show and find out.

I never made your show.

Sorry, things came up.

Chicken again.

You're right again.

Actually, it's just as well.

I'm going through

what the critics call an...

...anarchistic phase.

They say I'm dancing

on the edge of an abyss.

You better stay away. I might

take you with me when I fall.

You better stay away. I might

take you with me when I fall.

Dear friends,

Jane tells me it's my turn...

...to write the annual

Christmas letter, so here goes.

Let's start at the top

with our quarterback, Jane herself.

Not only has she been

a superb mother to our three sons...

...but she now studies environmental

law at the university...

...three evenings a week.

More power to Jane, so say we all.

We're also proud of all three boys.

Drew is captain of his Little League

team and excels at soccer as well.

Nicholas is the top reader

in his class, while young Teddy...

...already plays clarinet in the school

band at Dickinson Country Day.

I've enjoyed very much

serving in Congress.

All my life, it's been my wish to do

something in public service.

And it's been with great pleasure

I put that wish into practice.

Jane and the boys join me

in wishing each and all of you...

...a happy holiday season.

-Are you finished?

-Why?

Dear Andy:

If I ever get another one of those

drippy, xeroxed Christmas letters...

...I think I'll invite myself out

to your ducky little house for dinner.

And while you're sitting there,

eating terribly healthy food...

...and discussing important things...

...and congratulating yourselves

on your accomplishments...

...I think I'll stand up on my chair...

...turn around and moon

your whole freaking family.

You're right. I apologize

for my annual Christmas letter.

Jane normally writes them, and

they sound better coming from her.

From here on in, I'll have to

stick to writing letters just to you.

As far as my family's concerned,

we try to keep our heads above water.

Jane and I took a trip

to deal with our problems...

...and the boys, for the moment,

are out of trouble.

I'm thinking of running for the

Senate this fall if O'Hara retires.

Senate, yet.

I don't know, Andy.

Haven't you heard?

It's no longer all boys.

By the way, start writing

care of my office.

Jane gets a little upset

when she sees your letters.

-Did you lose a molar last night?

-No. Why?

The tooth fairy just dropped that on

my desk. Note the number of zeros.

Good God, this is almost illegal.

It's a cashier's check,

so it won't bounce.

-There's no note or anything?

-Just this.

Melissa!

Hold up, Melissa, please.

-What's--? What's the story?

-I'm avoiding you.

-Is this guy bothering you?

-Don't I wish.

Well, why didn't you

at least say hello?

I knew if we met,

we'd end up having coffee...

...in some New York-y joint,

and I'd have to fill you in on my life.

I go to an exercise class,

where I concentrate on my thighs...

...and I'm dating a younger man,

named Jean-Pierre...

...who concentrates on them too.

And I'm drinking again.

No, wait.

White wine only. Only after 6.

I give scads of money

to anyone who asks...

...so they butter me up

at benefits.

And what's wrong with that?

Nothing.

-Except I hate it.

-You look too good to be hating it.

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