Early in the morning of 31 August 2021 Mac Kerns woke up on the floor of his bedroom.  He thought that he'd fallen out of bed.  Instead he'd had a stroke, and was unable to get up.  His phone was out of reach, and after worrying over the situation, decided to just lie there and be patient until someone came.

Mac estimates that he laid there about four hours.  When Brent arrived he helped him into bed.  He couldn't see clearly, couldn't talk, and couldn't walk.  Things gradually improved during the day, and he asked for all of his children and grandchildren to gather so that he could see them one more time.

They did so that evening.  By then Mac's speech had returned.  He was still nauseous and unable to eat, but he was joking and able to use his engineer's mind and the engineer's formulas that he had stored there.

On the fourth day following his stroke Mac summoned me, his brother James, to come help him “write a Christmas letter.”  I agreed to be his secretary, and to take dictation as he spoke.  That would be easy.  What could be hard about that?  I thought of the line penned by his favorite poet, Robert Service:  “Now a friend's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail ...”

It turned out that he wanted his “Christmas letter” to be a full-scale write up about our 2^nd great grandparents, Thomas and Cornelia Condon.  He was fascinated by their history, and was adamant that our descendants needed to know how amazing they were.

“But, Mac,” I said, “what about the McCornacks?  You admire them, and ought to tell their story, too.”

“Yeah, he replied.  “Maria Eakin McCornack is my hero.  How she came across the plains with five little boys, kept them all healthy, and raised and educated twelve children just amazes me.  I thought that maybe I'd save them for next year's Christmas letter.”

“Uhh … under the circumstances, aren't you being just a bit optimistic?”

(Laughing).  “I guess you're right.  Let's tell the stories of both families.”

“How do we begin?  What title do you want to give this?”

“I don't know.”

“How about 'Our Oregon Heritage.'”

“That's perfect!  I like that.  Let's do it.”

“Because of Maria McCornack's parents, Robert and Margaret Eakin, your great grandkids, Lance and Joy, are 9^th generation Oregonians.  I think that's tremendously special and ought to be pointed out.”

“Not many people can say that.”

“Very, very few.  And there's something else.  Your 11^th great grandfather, going back through Cornelia Condon's line, was William Brewster, the presiding elder among the Pilgrims on the Mayflower.  That makes Lance and Joy … (pause for calculations) … 17th-generation Americans!  They're descendants of the very first European Americans.”

“Wow!”

“OK, start talking.  I'll take notes.  What do you want to say?”

“Well, my thoughts are all muddled and disorganized.  I'd like you to tell about ...”

Mac then told me the highlights of these ancestors' lives that needed to be mentioned, and sent me off to compose his “Christmas letter.”

Oh, boy, I wondered.  What have I bitten off?  What have I agreed to do?  Then again through my mind went the words of Robert Service:  “Now a friend's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail ...”  So here is Mac's Christmas letter...