Since I am in the holiday spirit (and, having just consumed a mug of hot toddy, a glass of eggnog and a nip of cheer, the holiday spirits are in me), I have decided to follow in that great tradition of boring everyone silly by writing a Christmas letter.

That is why I am pleased as punch (which I also drank) to present the following chronicle of the Zezima family, which includes Jerry, the patriarch, and Sue, the matriarch, as well as two daughtersiarch, two sons-in-lawiarch, five grandchildreniarch and a partridge in a pear tree.

Dear friends:

It sure has been an eventful 2025 for the Zezimas!

The year got off to a “ruff” start with the adoption of a puppy named Opal, a sweet, smart and sassy Chihuahua who has captured the hearts (as well as the fingers and toes, which she likes to nibble on) of everyone in the family, especially Jerry and Sue’s younger daughter, the doggy’s human mommy. Opal’s human sisters and her human daddy love her, too, and they are all proud that Opal graduated from obedience school, which is where everyone wishes Jerry would go.

That’s because he has done some incredibly stupid things this year.

One of the craziest was his attempt to buy a lighthouse. Because the historic structure needed work, and Jerry is the least handy man in America, and it was up for auction with the bidding starting at $100,000, and Sue told Jerry he couldn’t go over $25,000, and the winning bid was $370,000, Jerry lost out on a chance to replace Johnny Depp as the star of the next “Pirates of the Caribbean” movie.

It was proof, if any were needed, that Jerry is lightheaded.

He proved it again when he bought an air horn to rupture the eardrums of scammers who call incessantly and won’t take no for an answer. At least it didn’t cost as much as a lighthouse. Price: $7.99.

Jerry said he’s loud and proud. Sue still thinks he’s full of hot air.

Speaking of loud, Jerry’s constant snoring prompted him — at the urging of Sue — to enroll in a sleep study that found he has apnea at levels high enough to be recorded on the Richter scale. So he got a CPAP machine, which was designed to stop his overnight rumbling and save Sue from fixing the problem by means of asphyxiation. The machine worked for one night, after which Jerry stopped using it. He hasn’t snored since.

Jerry found that being a grandfather can be magical — as long as you don’t end up in jail. That’s the lesson he learned when he and Sue got together with all five grandchildren (and the kids’ parents) for a week in which Jerry assisted in science experiments performed with a magic wand, ran around a playground to the point of collapse, was served a delicious dinner of popcorn and Honey Nut Cheerios, engaged in battles with a kung fu master and was arrested multiple times by the world’s youngest cop.

He pleaded immaturity and was released on his own recognizance because the children, who are more grown up than Jerry, don’t yet know what recognizance is.

Jerry learned that old can be gold when he and Sue attended their 50th reunion at Saint Michael’s College in Vermont, where they were in the notorious (thanks to Jerry and his pal Tim Lovelette) class of 1975. They met the school’s new president, who resisted the urge to revoke Jerry’s diploma after learning that he graduated magna cum lager. A good time was had by all.

Jerry marked the 40th anniversary of his syndicated humor column, which is distributed to hundreds of papers nationwide and abroad. If you have ever wondered why the newspaper industry is in trouble, it would be because of Jerry.

Last but certainly least, Jerry’s eighth book, “The More the Merrier: Laughing at Life When Everyone Thinks You’re Over the Hill,” was published. Like his other books, it’s a crime against literature. It also comes in handy for propping up wobbly table legs. And if you suffer from insomnia, you might even want to read it. Just ask Santa, who will be happy to stuff your stocking with a copy of this alleged masterpiece. Ho, ho, ho!

Merry Christmas with love and laughter from the Zezimas.

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