… and an invasive new year. Tom
A White House Christmas
By Matthew Engel
December 24, 2002
The GuardianNow, you know me, I’m not one to swank, but I’ve had a Christmas card. Not just any Christmas card either, but one of those very fancy ones you would think no one could afford any more: with an inner lining of fake vellum. We will come to who sent it shortly, but actually that is the least remarkable thing about it.
First, there is the front cover. No robins, no smiling Santa, no baby Jesus and, emphatically, no dove of peace. Instead, there is a grand piano on a polished floor in a cold-looking room. It looks like a photograph, but turns out to be an oil painting, of a drearily representational kind: “1938 Steinway Piano in the Grand Foyer. The White House,” the caption says. Frankly, it looks like a card from a couple that only speak to each other through their lawyers.
Now, you know me, I’m not one to swank, but I’ve had a Christmas card. Not just any Christmas card either, but one of those very fancy ones you would think no one could afford any more: with an inner lining of fake vellum. We will come to who sent it shortly, but actually that is the least remarkable thing about it.
First, there is the front cover. No robins, no smiling Santa, no baby Jesus and, emphatically, no dove of peace. Instead, there is a grand piano on a polished floor in a cold-looking room. It looks like a photograph, but turns out to be an oil painting, of a drearily representational kind: “1938 Steinway Piano in the Grand Foyer. The White House,” the caption says. Frankly, it looks like a card from a couple that only speak to each other through their lawyers.