Holiday Letter 2025

Tall people have a common experience – often, when we step onto an elevator or are standing in line, a person next to us will look us over and ask the same question:

“Sweet Lord – what dark circle of hell did you crawl out of and how can you continue to exist wallowing in your freakish misery?”

Well, no, not really – what is actually asked is, “How tall are you?”, which is commonly followed by “Did you play basketball?”  There is apparently a substantial interest in my height, although like Sydney Sweeney I just have good jeans (albeit usually highwater ones).

I’ve always found this to be culturally interesting because it seems to only apply to tall people – I’ve never heard anyone say, “How short are you?”, followed by “Did you ride horses?” or “Are you a natural blonde?”, followed by “Well, bless your heart…”

Over the years, us tall people just sort of deal with the question and appreciate that it is simply an innocent acknowledgment of our god-like stature amongst the “tiny people,” as we like to refer to the rest of you (but only between ourselves, of course – to say it to your faces would just be rude).

But this year, my stock answer to this question has taken on a bewildering new dimension, as the truth is:

“I’m 6′7″.”

In the past, this answer would normally just result in some simple wide-eyed nodding, as if the inquirer were making some odd mental note to be relayed later to the Tiny People census bureau (“12:27 pm - sighting made today of 6’7” freak in elevator at 217 Main St.,” or “have successfully sequestered more than 2 dozen anomalous giants on the floor of Madison Square Garden under the guise of the NBA All-Star Game – waiting for further instructions…” ).

But this year, my stock answer has been met by stifled laughter and weird hand gestures, which are accurately but hilariously described by Grok as “alternating hand movements, often with palms up, in a fluid, juggling, or weighing motion, signaling "it's whatever," "so what," or "no big deal," a dismissive way to downplay something. It's usually done while saying "six seven," mimicking the casual shrug of "whatever" but with specific, repetitive hand actions.”

In other words, young people have come up with a new and overly complicated way to say “meh.”  This new “6-7” phrase gained enough traction to be proclaimed Dictionary.com’s “word of the year,” although apparently Dictionary.com, whom you might assume was in the business of actually defining words (in… maybe… alphabetical order?), declared that “6-7” was “meaningless, ubiquitous, and nonsensical - in other words, it has all the hallmarks of brainrot.”  Ironically, “brainrot” was Oxford Dictionary’s word of the year, defined as “the supposed decline in mental or intellectual ability from consuming trivial, low-quality online content, especially that found on Dictionary.com.”  Wow – shots fired.  Apparently, those dictionary companies hate, despise, loathe, detest, and abhor each other.

At any rate, the task of defining “6-7” gave Dictionary.com’s wordsmiths their greatest challenge since they tried to define “thesaurus.”  But even though they failed to actually define their own Word of the Year, Dictionary.com has assured us that it’s all good, because “the Word of the Year isn’t just about popular usage; it reveals the stories we tell about ourselves and how we’ve changed over the year.”  I’m not really sure how to “tell stories about ourselves” using words that are nonsensical, but I guess it worked out okay for James Joyce when he wrote Finnegan’s Wake.

But alas, since I am not James Joyce - no jammjoyced dreamdrifter of wakeworn words, riffing and rivering past his not-I, babbling my own nowhen syllabubbles into the everwas and nevermore – I will be forced to tell you stories using actual words.

As of last month, I just completed my 5^th year in retirement (!), and my biggest (and most enjoyable) new role is that of Papa to my TWO grandkids!  Maya just turned 2 in November, and Louis turned 1 last month – and soon daughter Bridgette and Brennan are going to have to move to zone defense with their third child expected in June!  Coni and I enjoy “subbing in” when we get a chance to visit them up in Manhattan, KS.

A big change for this year is that my mom Suzanne passed away just before Thanksgiving (RIP Mom), and caring for her here in Austin has been a big part of my life over the past several years.  The past few months have been filled with moving, selling/donating some belongings, and executing her estate – so after that is all completed, I’m going to have a lot more spare time on my hands!  Maybe I’ll get a job writing for Dictionary.com…

In addition, I’m in my 16^th year mentoring my FIRST robotics teams at Savio High School, as I am ever hopeful that my work there will invite our students to stand at the nexus of imagination and inevitability, as they develop the next generation of machines to bend the trajectory of mankind toward an ever more enlightened future.

Or, they might just end up making chicken fighting robots in Oklahoma.  Yes, after spending several years trying to legalize cockfighting in Oklahoma, Rep. Justin Humphrey recently introduced HB1326 to legalize fights between a live rooster and a robot, as long as the robot doesn’t harm the bird (um… I’m not a cockfighting expert, but if the bird can’t get hurt, how can you tell if the robot won?).  This controversial (read: stupid) proposal was intended to "start a conversation" about existing cockfighting penalties – but personally, I’ve heard enough dumb teenage conversations among my robotics students to last a lifetime.  It’s hard to believe that this idea came from an esteemed lawmaker in our highest IQ state (“Did you go to OU?  Well, bless your heart…”).

Coni continues her work as a Director at the “new” St. Michael’s Catholic Preparatory School.  And in our spare time, we’ve been fortunate enough to continue our travels – London and Kenya in 2024, and a cruise from Venice to Rome via Montenegro and Croatia this past year.  And Coni is currently with daughter Cat on a 2-week dream trip to Japan!  And of course, MANY trips up to Manhattan…

Coni and I are also very blessed to have just celebrated our 37^th anniversary last month!  The secret to a long marriage is love, patience, understanding, forgiveness, and avoiding being named in the Epstein files or showing up on the kiss-cam at a Coldplay concert (“Are you married to Michael?  Well, bless your heart…”).

Our own kids are also doing great.  In addition to super-mom Bridgette single-handedly driving population growth in Kansas, Catherine and Nick are still here in Austin, with Cat continuing her work as a jeweler at Midas Manufacturing and Nick working in the IT department at St. Michael’s.  Cat continues to enjoy writing fan fiction, traveling, watching anime, and spending lots of time with friends, while Nick just moved into his first solo apartment, got two kitty roommates, and continues to work on his IT degree.

So that’s the 2-year update!  Wishing all of you a very happy 2026 and blessings on your family;  in the meantime, I can assure you that the weather’s fine up here, and no, I will not change that lightbulb for you…

                              Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

                              Michael & Coni Butler