Me and my tree have just a moment to say MERRY CHRISTMAS to everyone who stops by I Woke Up Thinkin' to read and comment.
I read dozens of blogs, and I've been blogging since 2002 (starting with my first blog, Common Sensibilities). I'm never less than amazed at the quality of writing, the range of subjects, and the dedication to updating this still-new way of publishing.
Here at Thinkin' Central in Fort Wayne, Indiana, we've been slip-sliding through an ice storm and its aftermath, so I apologize for the spottiness of posts.
Stay tuned!
Bloggers and readers both, thank you! Have a wonderful holiday.
I don't mean I never believed--I may have. I just don't remember the belief. My first memories of Christmas Eve involved listening to my parents wrapping gifts and putting stuff together.
Plus, I don't think either of my parents were big on the myth. My mom, especially--she liked taking credit for the pile of presents under the tree. A child of the Great Depression, she loved that she was able to provide her four kids with the toys she never had. She loved being Santa.
I do have a hazy memory of being taken to talk to Santa, who was holding court while stuffed into a cold, little hut in uptown New London, in front of the Ben Franklin store. I didn't have much faith in the conversation, but I was okay with sitting on the jolly old elf's lap for a second with my brother and sisters. Might was well cover all the bases.
Last night, we attended the Christmas concert of the community band Angela plays in. Santa always makes an appearance during the intermission, talking to the kids and handing out candy canes.
So it was interesting to observe the reactions of the three kids we were with.
Julian, at 11, is well into the age of reason, and fully cognizant of where the presents come from. However, while he had no desire to talk to Santa, he did come down to the aisle to sneak a peek at Big Red Guy, and pick up a candy cane.
Caroline, who at a very pragmatic 5 you'd think would be in prime Santa territory, surprised us all by refusing to have anything to do with the process. She's not usually scared of anything, but she's developed an aversion to guys in red suits and stayed put in her seat.
It was Taylor, so intense and sensitive, who was more than ready to queue up with the other kids, sit on Santa's lap, tell him her request (a Dora vanity, I think), and gratefully accept the candy cane offered her. She even posed for pictures with Mr. Claus.
Julian has faith that his parents will fill his stocking on Christmas--he thinks he no longer needs Santa. Caroline must sense that Santa is not entirely who he says he is--she needs to hold back and assess the situation, but she knows that somehow there will be a package under the tree for her. Taylor is buying the whole deal--at three, she truly believes; her face as she talked to Santa was innocent and trusting.
Watching them, I realized I could connect with how each of them reacted to Santa--Julian's practicality; Caroline's reticence; Taylor's exuberance. It's representative of how individuals react to Christmas, isn't it? For some, it's a long to-do list; for others, it's something to avoid; for a few, it's a time to accept and rejoice.
As the band played the Hallelujah Chorus, and we rose to our feet, I could only hope that we could all be a little more Age Three at Christmas--accepting and rejoicing, exuberant and even innocent:
|: For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! :|
For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. |: Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! :|
The kingdom of this world Is become the kingdom of our Lord, And of His Christ, and of His Christ; And He shall reign for ever and ever, For ever and ever, forever and ever,
King of kings, and Lord of lords, |: King of kings, and Lord of lords, :| And Lord of lords, And He shall reign, And He shall reign forever and ever, King of kings, forever and ever, And Lord of lords, Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
And He shall reign forever and ever, |: King of kings! and Lord of lords! :| And He shall reign forever and ever, King of kings! and Lord of lords! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Christmas come quietly Turn the calendar page. Christmas come slowly For children and their wishes. Christmas come busy Too much to be done. Christmas come quickly Full weeks fly by. Christmas come softly Carols on the stereo. Christmas come tasty Cookies in the oven. Christmas come sadly Missing you. Christmas come anxious Family dysfunction. Christmas come tiny Little kids' eyes. Christmas come green Tree twinkles in the window. Christmas come bright Lights on the houses. Christmas come on TV Grinch and Rudolph. Christmas come presents Did I choose right? Christmas come stressed Spent too much. Christmas come empty Lost the Christ. Christmas come sweetly Children being good. Christmas come loudly Noisy party. Christmas come crowded At the mall. Christmas come peaceful Midnight service. Christmas come whatever For whatever, Christmas comes.
Well, maybe, but I wouldn't want to try. When Tony was little, we had a tape (actually, I think we still have it) with three or four half-hour Christmas shows on it. Rudolph, Year Without a Santa Claus, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, all the good ones. Come December, that tape was a permanent resident of the VCR. Problem was, Tony didn't want that tape to move from the VCR, so come January, February, and even beyond, I'd come in the room to a Christmas show, Tony stretched out in front of the TV, Buffy the Wonder Dog beside him, perfectly happy to be celebrating Christmas in March. Yea, he still hears about that. We had cable back then, but nothing like the plethora of channels we have now. And no DVR. I don't know if little boy Tony could have survived all the Christmas show choices available to kids nowadays. So what did we watch this Christmas? White Christmas, of course. I think I saw it three times. Once while we wrapped presents (a tradition), once when it was on the CW (a horribly edited version with all the musical numbers either shortened or edited out), and once with my dad on Christmas Eve. My mom hates Bing Crosby, so this last viewing was extremely interesting with her commentary, which mostly consisted of her announcing every time he came on the screen, "Bing Crosby! I hate him! He can't sing either!" Greg hates It's a Wonderful Life, and I love it, so this year I bought it and brought it to watch with my dad, who at least doesn't mind it. I am always a little surprised at that movie's length (no matter how many times I see it)-- by the time Clarence the angel comes, I'm thinking it's about over, and instead, there's lots of drama left. But I love Jimmy Stewart's performance, and Donna Reed is luminous, and ya gotta love little ZuZu. And, last but not least: A Christmas Story. Over and over. The three different houses I was at on Christmas, all had Ralphie and family on for at least part of the time. So I got to see the poor kid with his tongue stuck on the flagpole, the awful visit to Santa, the fight, the turkey incident, the opening of the BB gun. Several times. My dad likes this movie because lots of it was shot in Cleveland, and of course the house whose exteriors were used in the film has been restored to match the movie house, and you can visit it. And it's set in Indiana, so we have that connection, too. And, it's just fun. We didn't sit glued to the TV. We talked and ate and opened presents and laughed and sometimes we laughed at the movie that was on, and sometimes we ignored it entirely. And sometimes we even turned the movie off and had Christmas music as a calmer background to a busy, happy day. How about you? What as the background to your Christmas?
[Found a copy of this letter in my sent file, I think Taylor, 2, usurped my Gmail again. Beth is a family friend.]
Dear Miss Beth,
Hello, how are you? It's me Taylor.
Beth, they are at it again here. I went over to my Mama D's last night and chaos was everywhere. Aunt Jayme was cooking dinner! Papa was late getting home! Daddy had to work late too! And even Mama said she "had to go to Walmart" and kept us waiting 'til she got there! Caroline was taking a nap and McKenna woke up and wanted to take all the toys! She is so hard to control!
Well, then they made us eat dinner, which was potatoes! What are we, Irish!? (Oh yea we are.) And they put a bunch of stuff on the potatoes and acted like it was something special. I mean, why put pizza stuff on potatoes? Or that yellow cheese? Or chili? They gave me no chocolate at all!
Then, Daddy and Papa and Tony made all us kids put on our coats AND OUR SHOES and leave! To look at "lights"! Beth, we had perfectly good lights in the house. Why did they drag us out in the cold to look at more?!
Well, we had no more looked at one pathetic house when they announced it was "time to go back"! What was up with THAT! So they turned around and back we went to Hearthstone Drive.
When we got there, something had happened. There was no room to walk. There was stuff all around that Christmas tree thing they are so shot with.
And then people started opening all the stuff! I'm not sure, but somehow Papa knew which thing to give which person, because everyone seemed to get stuff they liked, like the helicopter for Julian and the mirror for my mom. But how did Papa know? I'm figuring that out.
And why did we all get presents? All I could figure out it was some kind of big birthday celebration for everybody all at once, so I just joined in and shouted "It my birthday" and "Happy birthday," over and over, then for a treat for all of them, sang "Happy Birthday to You" several times. It must have worked, cos I really like the AquaDoodle and the Dora book and the play kitchen I got. And Papa got us a red wagon, too.
When I said "happy birthday" once, Daddy said it was Jesus' birthday. I looked around and saw no one named Jesus there, but if he shows up, I am NOT sharing that AquaDoodle with him. He can just get his own.
Well, as if this all wasn't bad enough, Mama announced that now we had to get rid of all the furniture! Beth, what in the world was she thinking? Does it mean if people give you presents, you have to chuck your furniture? What kind of birthday present is THAT?
So, Papa and Daddy and Tony took all the furniture away! I was afraid they were going to start taking the toys away too, so me and McKenna took some of ours and hid under the table.
Well, by the time we left, the room was empty. Mama said somebody was bringing her new furniture tomorrow. Maybe that Jesus is bringing it! Just in case, I made sure my AquaDoodle was in the car. This whole situation has got me cautious about my stuff.
Anyway, Beth, I'll keep you appraised of the goings-on here. Just don't be surprised by anything.
I hope you and your family have a nice Christmas-thingy, whatever that is, and if presents show up under your tree, hide 'em fast. Your furniture might be disappearing, too.
If you need a few choruses of "Happy Birthday," give me a call, I'm available.
Hallmark has a couple little characters named Hoops and Yoyo, and I've sent way too many of their themed e-cards to family and friends over the last couple of years. I don't know what kind of creatures they are supposed to be--Hoops is, I think, the pink one, and has ears like a cat (or dog) and a tail; Yoyo is green and has longer ears, like a rabbit. Mostly, they are themselves. They have high, squeeky voices and they talk really fast and also sound as if they've inhaled helium. They sing well! Mostly, they are really, really cute and funny.
Now, maybe you've seen the commercials for Staple's Easy Button? Solves all your problems (office and otherwise) with just a press of the big red "Easy"? Well, because life is NOT easy, Hoops and Yoyo have a button too! And, it's more realistic!
Yes, it's the Hoops and Yoyo Panic Button! When your Easy Button is just not doing it for you, here's the answer. Just succumb to panic!
Greg got one of these for Christmas from one of the young woman with whom he works, and he's implementing it both at work and home. No more problem-solving in either place. We're just going right to mayhem:
"Stay calm. Stay calm. On second thought...PANIC!! (panic sounds)"
I'm dying to get one of these for my office, but on the web site, it says "pre-order now for 2/11/08"! These things are flying off the cybershelves (and probably the brick and mortar shelves, too, I guess).
Looks like I'll be trying to keep calm until February...but after that, watch out! WAAAAAHHHOOOWWWEEEE!
How about you? With Christmas less than a week away, is it calm ... or PANIC?!
Keeping on a Christmas musical theme. I have another one stuck in my head. Unfortunately. It's Santa Baby--the Madonna version. And I have a problem with that. To me it doesn't sound all that much different from the version I grew up with--by Eartha Kitt. (And how old are you if you know who SHE is? You know, young folks--Catwoman in the OLD Batman series.) To me, she's a familiar old friend from the Mike Douglas/Merv Griffin talk show days. Why remake a song if you're just going to sound just like the original? Why bother? So to get the song OUT of my head, I've done a little research. The good news is, I learned more about Eartha Kitt, Madonna, and Marilyn Monroe than I anticipated. The bad news is, of course, the song is still in my head. So, here's a little of what I've found. First, the lyrics: Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, For me. been an awful good girl, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Santa baby, a 54 convertible too, Light blue. I'll wait up for you dear, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Think of all the fun I've missed, Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed, Next year I could be just as good, If you'll check off my Christmas list,
Santa baby, I wanna yacht, And really that's not a lot, Been an angel all year, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Santa honey, there's one thing I really do need, The deed To a platinum mine, Santa honey, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex, And checks. Sign your 'X' on the line, Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Come and trim my Christmas tree, With some decorations bought at Tiffany's, I really do believe in you, Let's see if you believe in me,
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, A ring. I don't mean on the phone, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight, Hurry down the chimney tonight, Hurry, tonight.
I discovered the following: The very popular version of "Santa Baby" (also found in the film, "Party Monster" (2003)) thought to be sung by Marilyn Monroe was instead recorded by Cynthia Basinet for Jack Nicholson as a Christmas gift.(Did you know she died with a phone in her hand?)
Okay, now you decide for yourself. Here's a couple YouTube offerings, one of Eartha. The second is of Madonna, and it's not the actual video of her version of Santa Baby. You can view that on YouTube, but not embed it.
We had two votes for no tree; two for "tree is in the attic"; one was up and decorated, and one was "still on the lot." Be sure to vote in the new poll: What's your favorite carol?
People don't sing like they used to. They listen to music on their iPods instead. We were at a concert the other night and my 10-year-old grandson's ears perked up during one selection. "I can play this song on my recorder!" he said. It was Hark, the Herald Angels Sing. When I was 10, I could sing all three verses with my eyes shut. Also, all the verses to We Three Kings (I love the one that starts, "Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume"). We sang carols everywhere: Sunday School, church, school. We had a Christmas cantata at church, a Christmas program at school, a Sunday School program. Our Girl Scout troop went caroling around our tiny little town. People gave us hot chocolate and cookies. (We still froze.) We had Christmas records on at home and the Cleveland Orchestra Christmas Concert was a favorite on TV on Christmas Eve. Most of us have lost the casual singing from our lives, I think. Oh, the carols are around, in the Muzak at the mall to the all-Christmas, all-the-time radio stations. Folks who go to church still hear the classics, and even sing them on Sundays. But for most of the, the chance to belt out a good ole carol is limited to the last-song-sing-a-long at a concert or maybe some furtive lip-syncing in the car. I had been thinking about this, as my son-in-law had taken the time to teach his Cub Scout den some carols, then took them caroling at a nursing home. I have him major props for this. Then this morning, an article in USAToday: "Caroling or silent nights? A holiday tradition vanishes" by Maria Puente. "It's an appealing notion: Spread cheer without leaving the warmth (and the giant-screen TV) of your own home. Must be why YouTube boasts more than 300 caroling videos.
"But has it come to this? Except for pockets of passion, traditional, in-person neighborhood caroling is practiced by a shrinking fraction of the population."
So it's not just me. Only 6% of the population plans to carol.
One time when my kids were little, we actually did just carol around a neighborhood. Our friends organized it, we had guitar accompaniment, and a dozen or so grownups and kids sang our way up and down their street.
We were freezing, is mainly what I remember.
But I'm glad we did it, and I'm glad my kids had the chance to carol in the old-fashioned way at least once.
But I doubt they know all the verses to Hark, the Herald Angels Sing, either.
The snow yesterday was kind of like when the Whos in Whoville beginning singing after they've discovered that the Grinch has taken their presents. It started in slow then in started to grow. We saw it on the radar long before it fell to the ground. Finally about noon or so we saw actual flakes. At times we had what they call on TV a "wintry mix" which means a miserable bunch of snow, rain and sleet all together for awhile. I would called it a "miserable mix." But mostly we got snow, and it got harder all day. Still snowing like crazy at 8 a.m. Blowing a bit too. The snow blower got put to use, and the front porch got shoveled, and inside it's cozy and smells like coffee and cinnamon rolls. Now it's time to figure out something for lunch, and pretty soon it'll be time for football. If the weather was nice, we'd be fighting some traffic and mall crowds and shopping and all that. Instead, outside it looks a lot like Christmas, and I'm going to stay home and enjoy it. The stores will be there tomorrow. How about you? In or out?
Because on Wednesday, I had two in one day, and I'm not over them yet. Next time you see I've helped planned two parties for one day, just slap me. Because I deserve it.
Even though we had a good reason for having them both on the same day: an outside editor was in the office on Wednesday, so it was nice to include him. (He usually "attends" meetings, etc., by concall.) And we had the ladies' party Wednesday evening because so many people were busy other nights.
Stuck.
The first party was a breakfast carry-in. I was responsible for party favors, and found angel mugs filled with tea or candy for everyone. Yea me! I had signed up to bring donuts, so that necessitated a stop before work to pick up a dozen. My dozen donuts joined a feast of egg cassaroles, breakfast cheesecake (OMG. Topped with crunchy cinnamon), fruit, bagels, coffee cake, and more. I'm not a big breakfast eater, but when faced with breakfast cheesecake, I give in. We had so much food, we had breakfast the NEXT morning, too.
After work, it was the ladies' party, off-site. This necessitated a mad dash home, packing up the car with the foodstuffs procured the previous day, remembering all the other stuff I said I'd bring, jumping in the car and tearing to the restaurant to pick up our main courses, and fighting traffic to the party room.
Whew.
I was a little late, but again walked into a feast: appetizers of cheese and crackers, shrimp, bruschetta bread, summer sausage, pretzels and more. Champagne and wine. Salad, pasta, and bread. Mini-cream puffs for dessert.
Whoa.
We had an ornament exchange after, and did one of those games where a person opens an ornament, then the next person can either pick a new one, or "steal" another one from someone that's already been opened. Hostilities almost broke out when certain particularly beautiful ornaments changed hands several times, but cool heads prevailed and an armistice reached. But I really did want that reindeer ornament in the cool box. Dang!
I survived both parties, though exhaustion has become my friend, and I've got a party or two to go. So I'll be taking my vitamins and trying to go to bed early.
Well, it took a tractor ride around the whole Christmas tree farm, ten people weighing in with opinions about the kind of tree (Scotch pine? Frazier fir?), the height (as big as possible! not as big as the whole room!), the fullness (you can see through it! but the ornaments will hang nicely!) to who would cut it down (Tony's got the Carhartt's on! Julian's the Boy Scout!). We did it, and got it home, and in its stand, and in the livingroom with unbelievable ease. A couple hours and several dozen trips up and down the ladder later, we had a Christmas tree! (Douglas fir, perfect shape, seven feet tall, just full enough, cut down by Matt, Julian and Tony).
Well, y'all, we're off'n to thet ther Christmas tree cuttin' farm, wer ther men-folk and the young'ins will be a-cuttin' down a tree. We'll be a-trekkin' threw ther wilderness at St. Joe's Christmas tree farm, lookin' fer ther perfec pine ta haul inter our house 'n stay fer a month. We're a-hopin' we kin find one wit-out any critters in it, such as the prayin' mantis thingies thet came wit our tree thet one year. Ther wirther-lady sez thet we mite get us sum freezin' rain but I'm a-thinkin' thet will jest add to the excitement of seein' the men-folk layin' on the wet ground with thet little hack-saw tryin' to get thet frazier fir ta go "timber!" The littlest ones mite git a little damp 'round the edges but they are hardy critters. They kin hep us drag thet tree bak up to the payin' place and git some hot coco ta warm up. We'll be bringin' it home and trimmin' it up, barrin' any unforseen not-human critters bustin' out. If you kep watchin' this space you jest mit see a pictur.
Do you ever tire of reading letters like this one:
"It saddens me to see the glory of Christ removed from Christmas. For years we saw Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year emblazoned across storefronts until it became XMAS. Now Christmas trees have become holiday trees, great trees or family trees and traditional Christmas carols are discouraged in some schools." (from the Dec. 4,2007, Huntington, Texas Item)
The perennially recycled "Keep Christ in Christmas" theme--familiar, huh? The writer shares a common worry with many letter-writers at this time of year: the dreaded secularization of Christmas.
We were watching A Charlie Brown Christmas tonight (for the third time this season). This melancholy little gem was first presented in 1965: 42 years ago. And what's it about? Charlie Brown trying to find the true meaning of Christmas among the commercialism of the pink metal trees and Snoopy's garishly decorated doghouse, and the lists of presents his friends want. And find it he does, in the words of a little boy reciting the Nativity story from the Bible, and in the magical trimming of the most pathetic Christmas tree ever.
Charlie Brown, too, was worried about what he saw around him, but acted, and learned.
I was thinking about how the writer of the letter kept looking for Christmas around her, and could only see the lack of it; how Charlie Brown lamented the crass commercialism of the season, and found what he needed in his friends, and his little tree.
And it made me think of this.
Mother Teresa once wrote, in response to a person who wanted to join her in India:
"Stay where you are. Find your own Calcutta. Find the sick, the suffering and the lonely right there where you are -- in your own homes and in your own families, in your workplaces and in your schools. ... You can find Calcutta all over the world, if you have the eyes to see. Everywhere, wherever you go, you find people who are unwanted, unloved, uncared for, just rejected by society -- completely forgotten, completely left alone." And I realized that, if I could talk to that lady who wrote the letter, I'd recommend she watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas" one more time, and then I would borrow some of Mother Teresa's words, and tell the lady, worry not about that which is around you: those things you cannot change. But rather, change what you can:
Lady, find your own Christmas. Find the sick, the suffering and the lonely right where you are--in your own home and in your family, in your workplace or in your school.... You can find Christmas all over the world, if you have the eyes to see. Even at the mall, even in the schools, even at that place with the "Happy Holidays" sign. Everywhere, wherever you go, you find people who are unwanted, unloved, uncared for, just rejected by society--completely forgotten, completely left alone. Forget the holiday tree and the season's greetings. Remember to live Christmas, because that's what we should have learned from Christ. How to live it.
They just don't care, you know--the little kids don't care about all the social rules that govern us who have grown tall.
They stand on the steps at the front of the sanctuary for their first Christmas program, and they crane their necks looking for their parents and everybody there just to see them. Then they spot their group, their little faces light up, they jump for joy, and they wave madly. And if you look at the audience, you'll see a group responding similarly--suddenly, the grownups don't care who's watching them, either.
And if it's a major accomplishment on the teachers' part to get a group of forty little kids to stay in place for half an hour (and not run with their usual abandon around the place), it's really too much to ask that they stand still. Because they will not. They will jump, they will wiggle their butts, they will bend side to side, they will stretch. Because they must.
And the singing--they don't care if they are singing in tune, or singing softly, or singing in concert with their group, or not singing at all. They give as much of their attention as is preschool-ly possible to the teacher leading them, and all (well, most) of their mouths are moving. Some are to be whispering, some are shouting the words (and sometimes, the wrong words), some seem to be taking a break.
You see rapt attention, and wide smiles, or just curious looks, and sometimes, sheer terror.
You see little people poking their neighbors.
You see big people smiling at each other at the sight.
And when they sing (um, shout) "Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus," for a little moment, it's easy to remember what Christmas might be all about.
When they're done, they run down the steps to their moms and dads and grammas and grampas and everyone there who loves them, and get a hug, and an "I'm so proud of you," then they are ready to go get some birthday cake and juice, and no, they do NOT want their picture taken by the Christmas tree.
Which gets taken anyway, thank you.
How about you? Have you heard the angels singing, yet?
Me and my tree have just a moment to say MERRY CHRISTMAS to everyone who stops by I Woke Up Thinkin' to read and comment. 
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