Merry Christmas, Dear Cesar

I requested a Santa letter from the Chicago Sun-Times. Through this program, a child who lives below the poverty line writes to Santa, the letter goes from his teacher to the Sun-Times to someone like me.

I'm a sucker for programs like this, and toy drives, and Toys for Tots because I'm in advertising. While I currently don't have a client who sells toys, I still need to do penance. After all, I'm still in an industry that equates Christmas with visions of Bratz and Legos and Gameboys and iPods. What happens to the children whose families can't afford the cool new stuff? Do they feel less loved? Do they wonder why Santa gives good gifts to everyone but them?

What happens to kids like Cesar?

I'm holding his letter, rereading it for the 100th time. The program imposes a limit of $25 per child, so when the gifts are distributed at the school Christmas party, there won't be a great disparity among the value of the presents. Fair enough. Apparently not asking for anything that costs too much was really drilled into this little guy. According to his request, decorated with candy canes and a Christmas tree, his favorites are little green soldiers (though he likes other colors, too) and Hot Wheels cars. "Hot Wheels maybe they cost $2. But I like my little soldiers and they cost less than $1."

His teacher included a note, explaining that Cesar is in 4th grade. His parents work hard, and they insist Cesar work hard, too. He gets good grades and has an exceptional attendance record.

Oh, Cesar! I don't mind spending $25 on you! I think it's enormously moving that you rein in your dreams rather than be greedy or disobedient. I wish there was someway to contact you, to find out what you really want, even if money was no object. You'll get your soldiers, Cesar, and your Hot Wheels, too. And maybe a nice warm Chicago Bears cap. (Every Chicago kid loves those 8-1 Bears.) I want you to believe the magic of Christmas after you open my gift, Cesar. I'm going to work on it. You're going to love this present.

I love my doctors

I know a lot of people who have horror stories about their doctors. I'm not one of those people.

I have been battling perimenopausal depression. It lasts a few days at a time. When the feelings of worthlessness pass (and they do and they will), I am left with the dread that it will return (and it will).

My shrink, a PhD, has explained the difference between situational depression (which I've battled since junior high) and biochemical depression (which is new and completely awful). She doesn't minimize the pain I'm in, even as she promises me it will pass. Instead she encouraged me to call my GP and ask for antidepressants.

This made me a little uncomfortable. Not because I'm against better living through chemistry. But because I don't want to be medicated incorrectly. While I like my doctor very much, I only see her two or three times a year. I don't want her just cutting me a script for something this serious without really knowing what's going on.

So I asked my shrink if she would consult with my GP. She said, "Of course. We won't let you suffer." Music to my ears.

I contacted my GP and she told me she was going to give me (free) samples of Lexapro, chosen because unlike Zoloft, weight gain is not a major side effect. She assured me that she believes this is a short-term, hormonally-driven problem. But, just to be sure, she agreed to call my shrink.

I felt so much better late Thursday when my shrink called me back and told me my two doctors had conferred and that all three of us agree this is the best path for me.

I am so glad that these women treated me with such sensitivity and respect. And I'm sorry that all women don't have access to the care I have.

Baghdad vs. New Orleans

The pundits keep saying that the election results were a referendum on the Administration's Iraq policy, that the electorate is angry about how the war has been conducted.

OK.

But what about Katrina? Please tell me we haven't forgotten. These are our fellow Americans. Please tell me we know that this simply cannot be allowed to happen again.

My favorite headline

"PRESIDENT BUSH VISITS VIETNAM FOR THE FIRST TIME"

It's about frigging time. Why didn't you bring Cheyney with you? It would be nice if he finally saw Vietnam, too. The President asked for "cooperation" in finding out about more then 1,000 POWs still missing from the Vietnam War. Why isn't he embarrassed, ashamed to ask about those who fought and probably died in his place?

I respect all the soldiers who went. The ones like Senator Kerry and my uncle, who served their country in the jungles but wonder what it was for. The ones who still insist it was worth it. I respect those who fought against the war at home, like Bill Clinton. The ones I don't get are the Bushes and Cheyneys, who supported the Vietnam War ... for someone else to fight and die in.