The holiday letter is one page, tucked into the card with this year's photograph from the lake house pier. I usually write it myself. This time I gave the AI the family news and asked for a draft.
Jonathan became “a visionary reimagining household infrastructure while embracing life on two wheels.” He had cancelled cable and bought a motorcycle. Our son was “a pioneer in additive manufacturing,” and his Thanksgiving cornucopia had become an installation.
My part was longer. Hosting the CAPS meeting made me a “thought leader in community safety.” There was also something about a yellow dress captivating my circle. It had taken the compliments I told it about and written them back as though someone had reviewed me.
We spent two evenings revising. It was oddly reluctant to give up “visionary.” I don't think Jonathan's colleagues would let us hear the end of that one.
The final letter says the garden came in on budget, which depends on where you put the urns, and that we are at peace with the lake house question. We aren't quite there yet, but the cards won't arrive for several days. The AI calls this “aspirational accuracy.”
They go out Thursday. I will read the Jonathan paragraph once more before they do.
— Ash