I take it back

I don’t really hate Christmas. Although I think I already said that it’s not Christmas I hate, just the gross commercialized culture of excess and frenzy that comes with it these days.

So, it happened again to me this year. The annual miracle of the Christmas spirit. Right on schedule, the morning of December 24. I had no more gifts to buy, but some left to wrap. And errands to run.

I cranked up some favorite Christmas music. My favorites change a little. This year the most played Christmas song on my iPod is this one:

Followed by “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas,” featured below.

With the music going, I felt my old cold grinchy heart start to warm and melt. Sang along to the iPod, practiced singing harmony to “Silent Night.”

Hopped into the car, with iPod music blasting, practically danced around Costco. Sang to the checkout staff and thanked them for working Christmas Eve. They must be trained to deal with crazy people; they were unfazed.

Was it me? Or were most people I saw in Costco on Christmas Eve *not* all stressing out this year?

Home again, had fun wrapping the presents, all for the little kids in the family. Was sure I wouldn’t make it in time to join the family at church, even called to say so. Figured as I headed out for their part of town that I’d hope to find a coffee shop nearby open, to sip and read for a while till they could get home and let me in. But the magic of Christmas slipped the old Subaru right down the freeways and into the church parking lot to a space across from the family’s van, and ushered me into the church two minutes before the service started. Everybody squished down and made room for me in the row.

So I got to have my annual misty-eyed Christmas Eve service experience at their church, which really piles it on and surpassed itself this year. I think the only thing left is to actually bring in live animals for the manger scene, so I wouldn’t miss next year’s service for the world. Despite the lingering cough from my recent sickness I sang pretty well, and cried during the final candle-lighting in the darkened church. And managed not to splash candle wax around when I blew out my candle afterward.

Nice eats and gift exchange back at the cousins’ after church. Four little kids, two sets of young parents, their grandparents on their dads’ side, two great-grandparents, and assorted loose cannon cousins. Including moi. So many gifts that expressed the love and involvement all these people have in each others’ lives, along with lots of giggles, laughs and squeals among the wrapping-ripping. Some of which was from the kids. A toy horse was the gift of the night for one of the girls, a toy rifle for one of the boys.

After the gifts, the electric Christmas tree lights were turned off, room lights doused, and the little candles in heirloom German silver holders on the tree branches were lit, for all of us to enjoy for a few minutes. That’s what trees looked like way back when.

Christmas day, after Jasper got a nice walk, I worked a morning shift as a volunteer hospitality ambassador at the airport. Lots of family reunions, Santa hats, people with antler headbands, hugs, smiles, even people thanking me for being there. Basically as a talking directional sign – yesterday I was mostly at the spot where people ask directions to their baggage claim carousels. There being 19 of them, I don’t have every single bit of info memorized but fortunately it’s not too hard to steer them the right way. And they give us a cheat sheet too.

Then it was home again, to rest my feet for a while. Then back out to the cousins’ for a nice dinner with most of the family. A quiet time to chat and laugh with the people who’ve known me all my life, or whom I’ve known all their lives, as the case may be. And they put up with me anyway. Bless them.

Long live Christmas. I hope you all had some miracles too, especially the miracles of comfort and joy.

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One year old

Happy birthday to a happy, friendly little guy who was born on Christmas Eve last year.

You’ve been worth it, dude. I hope we have a lot more Christmases together.

Now, go out, locate a nice guy for me. And fetch.

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I want a hippopotamus for Christmas

But I bought a llama instead.

In honor of my family, via the Heifer Project.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

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Furry scurry

Jasper and I have signed up for the Furry Scurry next weekend. We’re going to raise a few bucks for the Denver Dumb Friends League while enjoying a morning out in Washington Park with a few thousand old and new friends.

We’ve had quite the week, kind of a personal furry scurry. Little Jasper has had to adjust to a whole new world. Instead of living in a house on 10 acres in the country with lots of other dogs and a few people, he’s now living in a condo in Denver with one crazy old lady. Instead of hearing just birds and country sounds when he goes outdoors, he hears all the big city background noises that people can be so oblivious to. And he often rides in an elevator, which was a whole new experience too.

He’s met lots of new neighbors and visited his new vet and new groomers – all very pleasant experiences.

The worst thing, is that now and then he is left absolutely alone in the condo. Which causes him to yip and yap for quite awhile. Or so the neighbors tell me.

Ouch.

So far everyone I’ve spoken to is understanding, and I hope he eventually will mature and learn that the barking doesn’t help and that I will always come back. And when I come back I will free him from his “prison” – which is a room outfitted with his crate (into which he can come and go), toys, water and snacks, and a puppy pee pad, and a gate across the door which he can see through.

Early last week I had some kind of tummy upset bug, and now this morning don’t feel so good – again.

I think Jasper and I will go outdoors for a leisurely ramble and then come back indoors for a Sunday morning nap. The fajitas I ate last night, when we went out to celebrate the 23rd birthday of my nephew first cousin once removed? A good idea at the time. But perhaps not the best possible choice after all.

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December tunes

The last day of November, and it’s sunny and cold here today.  

November is a tiring month for me, and I’m always glad when the 29th is over.  Although the sharp grief is past, I can’t forget it’s the date when my dad died – much too young – suddenly, after a heart attack.  Many years ago.  Sometimes when I think about those days it feels like a few lifetimes ago.

I’m looking forward to December.  I’m not real big on some of the hoo-hah that goes on in the name of Christmas.  But I enjoy seeing (other peoples’) decorations, even the tacky garish ones. 

And I like a lot of Christmas music. 

Allow me to highly recommend some:

Cindy Horstman’s two CDs:  Christmas Harp and Christmas Harp 2.   Utterly beautiful solo jazz harp.  I’ve had these CDs for years and have never tired of listening to them.  I’ve given more than a dozen of them as gifts.  Right now I’m importing them into my iTunes library so I can take them with me on my iPod. 

Baroque at Christmas.  “We were going to do Brahms or Beethoven for Christmas, but we’re BAROQUE!” – Scarlet Rivera & Tommy Eyre with The Newport Chamber Orchestra.   I found it in a bargain bin somewhere; it’s a fine companion for the season.   Traditional Christmas carols alternate with less obviously “Christmas” music, in a satisfying combination.  

Winterlude - Instrumentals for a Contemplative Christmas.  One of a series, I think.  Another bargain bin find, certainly not elevator music but very good quiet-times listening.

And any CD  you can find with the original rendition of Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.  And rousing choral versions of Joy to the World, Hark! the Herald Angels Sing, and the Hallelujah Chorus.  Although probably not all on the same CD.

Wishing you all the joys – contemplative, heartwarming, and just plain silly – of the season.

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Many of us here are a little sleepy this morning

Because late last night, the fifteenth day of Rocktober, 2007, the Colorado Rockies defeated the Arizona Diamondbacks in a baseball game at Coors Field. Which means:  THE ROCKIES ARE  NATIONAL LEAGUE CHAMPS – AND PLAYING IN THE WORLD SERIES!!!!  And if we weren’t at the game, we were probably awake at home, taking it all in via TV, radio and/or the net.

Fourteen years ago, on Good Friday, 1993, the Rockies played their first home game.  At the old Mile High Stadium; Coors Field wasn’t built yet.  In the bottom of the first, the first Rockies batter (Eric Young) stepped up to the plate and hit the first pitch thrown to him – into the stands, for a home run.  

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Will I need a passport?

 The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.

—– L. P. Hartley

No scanners, or shredders, not so many lawyers per capita, and identity theft not aided by computers. 

After three full days slogging away at The Big Scan, I’m down to the paydirt of old personal and family letters and pictures.  Including the one above – and I’m not in it.  I’m probably older than you, but not that old.  

The picture is of a tailoring course taught by the Home Ec teacher at a public high school in the late 1940′s “for anyone interested.”

Interesting picture.  There could be a story there.  Or stories.  No passport required.

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Happy 62nd anniversary

They aren’t my parents, but I proudly share some DNA with the tall one and I love them both.

Married in England, 1945

Still married in Colorado, 2007

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Actual conversation at lunch

Four-year-old: “I’m gonna get a girl tattoo.”

Five-year-old: “No, you get a boy tattoo. I get a girl tattoo.”

Four: “I will too get a girl tattoo.”

Five: “You’re a boy. You get a boy tattoo.”

Four: “I’ll get a girl tattoo on this side, and a boy tattoo on that side.”

Five: “I’ll get two girl tattoos.”

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Fourth of July

It’s been a hot sunny day here.

This DFD fire truck sported a flag.

Our extended family grilled burgers,

romped around the backyard

 

and enjoyed patriotic cake.  Tonight there are several fireworks displays to choose from.

I hope you have had a good day, too.

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Together forever

I’d lived in this part of town for awhile before I realized that there’s a large cemetery nearby. It sits behind hedges along the main big street, and its signage is discreet.  Then a few months ago I heard that one of my uncles was buried there.

Today I stopped by the cemetery office and asked if they could tell me where his grave is. Not only could they, they took me to it.  I found that Uncle Wayne and Aunt Avis – who died within a year of each other – are both there. “Together forever” the marker says. The cemetery folks are going to have the marker cleaned and raised a little; it’s been a bit overgrown after 35 years.

Wayne and Avis were a constant presence in my life when I was a small child in Oklahoma. . Later in my childhood they moved to Kansas, and then we moved to Texas. We didn’t see much of them after that.  Wayne and Avis never had children.   They never lived in Colorado; I think they were buried here because Avis’ sister lived here and made the arrangements.  

I think I will go back next month to see if the marker’s been raised.

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Road trip

I leave early tomorrow morning on a road trip and won’t be back behind this counter until at least Friday night. Talk among yourselves while I’m gone.

A dear aunt, aged 90 and under home hospice care for several months, died last night. I’m driving the 10 hours to the old family stomping grounds to spend some time with my cousins and pay my respects, etc. My late aunt was one of those rare people who are strong and steady and quiet and patient and unselfish and just plain GOOD. A woman of faith, who believed deeply and never found it necessary to preach at people.

I think she was wise enough to know that it’s not about standing on a corner waving a Bible and hollering about Jesus to passers-by. It’s not what’s on your T-shirt, or the messages on the bumper stickers on your car. It’s not about waving your finger at someone in the grocery store and giving them an uninvited lecture on the Commandments. The most powerful sermon you will ever preach is life you live.

Her sermon was the best.

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Roots, branches, boys, men

Seven men in black

Two sons
Five grandsons

Suits
Shoeshines
Haircuts

Seven men in black
bore the casket

Stood facing us across it
for burial prayers

Left seven boutonnières
precise white flower line on top

Dignified goodbye
Rest in peace

Seven men in black

Two sons
Eagle Scouts to silver hair

Five grandsons
Rug rats to men
to husbands
to fathers

Your legacy to this world
adjourned to jeans boots
ham sandwiches
togetherness
the new crop of rug rats
romped with the dog

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