This will be my only submission to this lovely idea as an electronic way to remember my dear friend Timothy C Doughtie.

I'm not really very jolly during the Holidays and haven't been since the passing of my beloved wife Barre. But I have been blessed with many, many fine Christmas seasons and expect there will be more to come.

For over 30 years Tim was a big part of the warmth and fun of the Holidays for our household and for me. When we officed together Tim would set up a corner in the art room (a big open space) for his Christmas stash. Typically around September, presents would begin arriving from locations all over America and places beyond. They were quickly wrapped in his own signature fashion. Well chosen, richly colored paper, snug, wide ribbons attached with handsome gold or silver foil disks, sometimes a bit of decorative hand-cut ribbon making it look like an award. These packages were fashion statements in contrasting colors and sizes. The stack would grow to a tower, to a pile, to an entire corner of the room. The most tantalizing bait for the meanest of the second-story men known to frequent fancy neighborhoods during the holidays.

Then, just before Christmas Eve they would all disappear, ready for the annual distribution. His choices for gifts were always personal, almost always appropriate and invariably thoughtful. Tim loved Christmas. I think because it was an open invitation for him to be generous, creative and thoughtful.

He and I engaged in a battle of sorts. It changed from year to year. We would move from outrageous to obscene to sincere to sophisticated humor to intellectual growth and back to just plain naughty. Each year was a guessing game. It was never to outdo one another. It was to out-surprise each other. The struggle improved all my other gift-giving and made the entire process more fun. I could never quite out catalogue him, but we did both so love the search.

This year will be very hard for all of us who loved Tim and I know there are so many; from family and close friends to business associates, the names spool through my mind. We all know the cards are now stopped, the gifts will not have the same shine, the world is a bit emptier. But we all have our remarkable memories and they will sustain us. Bless all of you Doughtifiles out there, take heart, his legacy is with all of us, the lights will go up on Dove Street and the rum will be just as warming in the eggnog as ever. Merry Christmas to all of you, to Tim and Betsy and Matthew, and the remarkable Doughtie clan of leprechauns. I love you, each and every one... even if I don't show it all the time.