MORE SILENT NIGHT THAN FA-LA-LA-LA-LA

The truth is ... I'm not busy.  I'm not rushed.  I'm not harried or stressed.  I'm not overwrought or depressed or sad or longing to run away.  Can this really be Christmas?!?

I think back on the years I worked and worried myself into a state of despair at Christmastime with all the planning, decorating, shopping, socializing, wrapping, baking, hosting, cooking, cleaning, and on and on.  Yes, I created the magic, the memories.  And I also ended up resentful and exhausted at some point in the season.  I joked that my favorite day of the year was December 26th.

In more recent years I've come to share the load of at least food-prep for hosting the family gatherings (for Christmas and two December BDs) with my grown sons and their families. That's been great!  

And then last year, of course, we all went Cold Turkey and had ZERO Christmas contact with anyone.  So I grieved.  But I also learned to let go.  The Covid Times taught/are still teaching me lessons in discernment.  What's really important?  What is realistic?  How much can I let go of expectations (and memories) and be in the "is-ness" of this moment?

I guess I've successfully isolated myself enough to have ZERO non-family social events on my calendar this year.  My BFF invited me to breakfast for my BD later this month, but that's it.  And that's FINE!  I'm relieved to not be trying to keep up with a jam-packed social calendar, like in olden days, of constant obligation.  

Hub and I are heading to our fave little getaway town on the water a ferry's ride away next week -- we go every year to celebrate my BD and the holidays.  It's truly romantic.  We love it.  Of course we skipped last year, so we are both looking forward to resuming the tradition.  

The day after we get back the whole family will head to Son Two's house for an early Family Christmas and Gift Exchange, since he and his wife will be in California for the holidays with her family.  

On Christmas Eve Son One and his family will be at our house for our traditional Christmas Eve buffet of yummy finger foods and sweets.  On Christmas Day we will see them again at either our house or theirs, TBD.  But I already warned that if we gather at our house, I will NOT be preparing a big sit-down Christmas Dinner.  Nope.  Maybe leftover goodies from the night before or maybe pizza.  LOL

And that's it.  We used to host a BIG New Year's Eve party, but gave that up some years ago.  So we will end the holiday season as we do lately...home alone, probably watching the NYC ball drop and the festivities at the Space Needle in Seattle on TV before heading up to our porch-with-a-view to watch any fireworks others generally shoot off at midnight, while we kiss each other into yet another year together.  

I wonder if I could have foreseen, during all those years ago of frantic merry-making, that one day the Christmas season would feel even more magical for it's calmness?  I guess not. I think I probably didn't take time to even imagine that at this age and stage things would look so differently.  If I thought of it at all, I'd probably have imagined it sad and lonely.  It's not.  It's just how it is...and how I actually want it to be.  And I am embracing it, with gratitude. 🙏🏽

At least,  that's the view from here...©

SIGH

I've been fighting all day NOT to write this blog post.  But my promise to tell the truth about my life is prompting me forward.  I have to believe we are all struggling -- maybe not in exactly the same way, but close enough.  See if you can relate...

December in American culture is the Christmas season -- whether sacred or secular you can't escape it.  There are traditions that are sacrosanct: lights, trees, Santas, carols, gifts, foods, parties, family gatherings.  This year there is also a deadly and highly contagious virus floating on the air amongst us.  This wrecks havoc with the way things are supposed to be.  

Throughout much of the past year we've dealt with inconveniences and disappointments and cancelled plans because of the Covid-19 pandemic.  We should be used to it; more resilient by now.  But THIS IS CHRISTMAS!  NOBODY MESSES WITH CHRISTMAS!  Right?

Here are the current stats:  U.S. 18.5 million confirmed cases; 325,000 deaths.  In my county: 19,000 cases, 338 deaths.  And it's getting worse.  Everywhere case numbers are rising.  Deaths are over 3,000 daily in the U.S. 

Given these grim statistics, what are we to do about Christmas?  Some, of course, are doing as they normally would, ignoring all pleas from responsible politicians and public health officials to please, please, please not travel or gather at Grandma's house.  The deniers have shown up at super spreader events throughout this nightmare, cocksure that the virus doesn't pertain to them, facts be damned.  A lot of them are getting away with it personally (who knows how many others they've infected or how much they increased the burden on health care providers?) but some have not and have lost their lives or at least life as they knew it. No matter, apparently.  No lesson learned.

But some of us have taken strict precautions, sacrificing holidays and hugs from the grandkids, trips, errands, haircuts, and dental appointments.  We've only seen the people we love via Zoom.  Nothing about our lives has been normal for nearly a year.  With two vaccines now approved and rolled out to the first priority recipients, we can see light at the end of the tunnel -- but must wait our turn in the queue -- which will take months to complete.  

While waiting we come up against Christmas, already a highly emotional holiday.  This year I find I am both relieved of any expectations of creating the holiday magic AND deeply disappointed and in grief about cancelling any family gatherings.  I won't see the grandkids opening their gifts, no Christmas Eve buffet with all the goodies we bring and share, no family jigsaw puzzles where Hub and my daughters-in-law reign, no Son-One naps by the fireplace, no hugs and laughs  and stories and memories to be made.  We will be each in their own little square on the Zoom app on the computer for an hour or so at some point.  That's it.  

We tried to negotiate a way around it.  We all say we are being "careful" but each part of our little extended family has a slightly different definition of careful and trying to accommodate that proved to be too hard.   We thought we'd be pretty safe if we were outside on our covered porch, heaters going, but with food and gifts and kids, we knew we couldn't distance enough or keep masks on...it just got too logistically daunting. Tensions rose at our house trying to figure this out; frustration reigned for all with each shift of plan.  So, we just called it off; not in anger but in defeat.  No one is happy.  Everyone is resigned.  We all still love and respect each other.  And this whole thing sucks.

I take comfort in knowing that we are sacrificing for a greater good -- our continued health and that of those we love and those in our community.  I take comfort in knowing that sometime in the coming months we will get the vaccine and can make up for lost time.  

Still, this is Christmas.  This is hard.  Harder than the other losses of togetherness.  Hub and I will be alone for the holiday for the first time in the 52 years of our relationship (48 married).  That's a weird thing.  But we are not the only ones in this situation and we are blessed to have each other and a warm comfortable home to isolate within.  I count my blessings....as the tears fall.

If you feel similarly, I see you.  I'm with you.  We can do this.  But we don't have to put a smiley face on it every damn minute.  

At least, that's the view from here...©

HALLMARK MEMORIES

Well, I had my usual little pre-Christmas cry yesterday.  My mother, gone for 12-1/2 years now, always comes for a visit in December haunting my bittersweet memories of Christmases past.  Every year, now fully aware of the work and worry and love that went into creating Christmas magic for the family, I think of her with deep love and gratitude.  The decorations, gifts, foods, traditions, gatherings...all of it was basically hers to do.  My dad helped with the tree.  It was a division labor in tune with the times.  She didn't seem to mind, and likely couldn't have imagined it any other way, but I know now how much effort went into making the holiday season shiny and bright for a family who mostly took it all for granted.

I know because I've felt the same at times, some years more than others.  I used to go all out with gatherings, outings, and festivities that ran us all ragged and so many traditions we almost had no room for spontaneity.  If I didn't create the Hallmark Christmas and others didn't respond in kind, I'd feel a failure.  Thankfully, over recent years I've left that self-imposed pressure behind.  Less work, relaxed expectations, more help from grown sons and my daughters-in-law and an appreciation for all Hub contributes and always has; I just was too much in my own world of striving for perfection to see it.

Over the past few years I've cut back dramatically on the home holiday decor; this year even more.  I hauled all the bins down from the attic, sorted through them all and chose about 1/8 of the stash of holiday bric a brac to display.  I chose favorite things or things easy to get out and put away.  At first I thought I'd just skip it all this year, but that didn't feel right.  It's still Christmas, after all.  Even if no one will be here to see my home for the holidays, Hub and I will be here and a little Christmas cheer and a tradition or two is nice, even in this most NON-traditional year.

My tears were also triggered yesterday by deciding to turn on some Christmas music.  Alexa chose a "holiday favorites" station for me and right out of the gate there was Dean Martin singing "Let It Snow".  I was transported to my childhood, singing along with my dad to these oldies on the car radio.  I was in the warm kitchen, dancing with him as mom baked.  I was parked in front of the TV, watching the Christmas specials with my mom and grandma, who lived with us.  Mom loved the Andy Williams and Perry Como shows, my grandma loved Lawrence Welk.  I loved them all -- the songs, the decorations, the holiday outfits, the fake snow...

Which brings me to a new tradition this year for Hub and me.  We are watching Hallmark Christmas movies together every night.  There are dozens of them!  I had not been a Hallmark Christmas gal until last year when my daughter in-law's good friend, a New York actress/singer, had a small part in one of them.  Of course I had to watch.  And I loved it.  I watched a couple more and vowed that this year I'd go all in.  

I tried to get Hub interested, but naturally he declined with a bit of an eye roll.  "You go ahead; I'm not interested."  I continued to tease and cajole, until one night, in a moment of tenderness toward me I guess, he said he'd watch one with me, as a lark.  He liked it!  We've had a nightly date now for over a week and look forward to the most recent incarnation of the usual plot (a variation on about three themes), evaluating the Christmas decor, locations, sets, costuming, wholesomeness (every time the drink of choice is "hot coco" we laugh), the chaste love story (apparently it takes only one week to find the true love of your life) that is consummated with the final scene kiss.  It's silly good fun.

I think this Covid-19 holiday season we are looking for some escape from the sadness, the isolation, the loss of tradition, the grief of missing families and friends gathering.  Watching it play out in the fantasy of a Hallmark movie somehow makes me feel less deprived.  

I get up every morning in the early darkness, and sit by my tree, lit but to date still without ornaments, looking around at the sparse decorations and feel grateful for all I have.  And I think of my mom, so near to me this time of year, wishing she could be here for Christmas too, one more time.

At least, that's the view from here...©

DRUNK ON NUTTY LOVE

Do you know any sloppy drunks?  You know, the kind that after a few cocktails get all maudlin and sad and wax philosophic about the human condition, or express their deep and abiding love for you and every other living thing with the utmost sincerity (at least in the moment), as they cling to your hand, hug you too long, or gaze blearily into your skeptical eyes?

That's me at some point over the holidays, but without the booze.  It's short-lived.  Mostly I'm not a fan of the forced intimacy and expected good cheer of Christmas, but there is generally a moment when it all comes into emotional sharp relief and I get drunk on love and gratitude.

And that moment often involves a "visitation" from my mother.  She's been dead for 9 years, but around Christmastime she decides to float on back and hang out with me.  Even as I write this the tears are falling because she is punishing me with her love again.  She is forgiving me for being judgmental, rude at times, dismissive; for taking her for granted.  She is reminding me that she loves me anyway, in that Christlike way of mothers, and that her sacrifices were made from her heart and because she had no other choice.  Love just is.

She's also sort of smug about watching my pity party of longing to sit and talk with her.  "See?  NOW you miss me!  Now you're 67 years old and your "kids" are grown and you worry about them anyway, your grandkids are precious but exhausting, your eyesight is a struggle and for some reason you can't hear your husband quite so clearly as you used to when he turns his head away and keeps talking.  You nod asleep in front of the TV at night and you wake up way too early in the morning.  You try to keep your body healthy, but you share my sugar addiction and losing weight is hard!  The world is moving so fast and sometimes it all seems confusing and overwhelming and you think war, famine, and pestilence are just around the corner, especially with a crazy Republican in the White House!  You think a lot about the past and have some new curiosity about your genealogy.  You realize you are the only one left of your original family and that particular loneliness is completely unexpected. You wish I was around to talk to about all of this.  You wish you could tell me you are sorry for being so impatient with those very same issues when I talked about them.  Well, nope!  I'm dead!"  And she smiles -- with love, wisdom, and bit of quiet self-righteousness.  (She was not an overtly vengeful person, but she could "silent treatment" you into submission.)

So, there's all that and also the memories of Christmases she created, the food, the decorations, the gifts, all the usual family Christmas stuff that she pretty much did single-handedly (see: "taking her for granted" above).   Some of that I've retained, some I've let go.  But I have a deep appreciation for her, for all of it, and I do wish I could tell her so.

The other day I remembered a tiny tradition that I'd nearly completely forgotten over the years.  Mom used to buy mixed shelled nuts.  You see them in bins in the produce section:  almonds, hazelnuts, walnuts, pecans, Brazil nuts.  She had a wooden bowl, the same bowl each time, where she'd put the nuts and the nutcracker and picks.  The bowl sat on the kitchen table and I remember my dad, more than anyone else, sitting in his place at the table, bowl before him, as he cracked and ate with delight.

I don't think my granddaughters have ever seen nuts in the shell, have ever cracked open a nut to find the meaty prize inside.  Today I got Mom's bowl down from the top shelf where it has been ignored for years, filled it with nuts I bought at the grocery store, placed cracker and picks atop the pile, and now it awaits the arrival tonight of the family for our traditional Christmas Eve buffet.

Like those nuts,  Mom and I often bumped up against our unique tough exteriors, but inside there was the reward of dense, sweet substance, different each from the other but still a delight.

If she was here, I'd cry into that bowl, drunk on love.  I guess, actually, that's exactly what I'm doing.  Her spirit is here with me, happy to see me and asking why in the world I didn't bake any Christmas cookies?!?

At least, that's the view from here...©

NOT THE REAL THING

Sad.  Disappointed. Resigned.  No, I'm not still talking about the election (at least not in this post), I'm talking about purchasing our first artificial Christmas tree in our 44-year marriage.  We are Christmas tree traditionalists and we have scorned and mocked those who years ago "went artificial".  Nope!  We'd never!

Well...we did.

For 30 years we have gone to the same Christmas tree farm in the country to cut our own tree.  The farm was a 40-acre wood owned by a retired couple who grew the trees as a labor of love, enjoying the outdoors together and tending their crop of Nobles and Fraser Firs.  It was our family tradition to go the Saturday after Thanksgiving to tromp over wet or snowy or frozen ground to find "just the right tree". We usually ended up with the first one we saw closest to the truck, but we had to explore far and wide to be sure there were no others better.  After it was cut and hauled back to the truck, we made our way to the outdoor shelter where the owners had a roaring fire going and a kettle of hot cider ready to pour.  We'd sip our cider sitting on cedar logs while Hub paid for the tree -- $20.00 for any tree of any size.  We first went there when Son One was a year old.  Last year was our last trip, with both of our sons now grown with us and a daughter-in-law and two granddaughters in tow.  The owners told us then that it would be their last year.  They are in declining health (although still remarkably agile for being 90-someting!) and their children and grandchildren were not interested in opening the property for tree sales.  We assume one day it will all be sold to a developer and new houses will stand where the trees once grew; such is the way of progress.

Hub and I loved the family tradition of going there, but the "hassle-factor" of a real tree was also real. We said for the past number of years that when the tree farm closed, we wouldn't hunt for another (hating the commercialized "all-the-trees-in-straight-rows with a Santa and a mini-train and gift shop" type of tree farm that is so common.)  We said, "Maybe it will be time to get an artificial tree at some point."

So that's what we did this year.  A plastic tree in a box.  Hub bought it at Costco, brought it home and had it up in about 15 minutes, with LED lights pre-installed that you can set to being all white, all colors, or alternating between the two.   As the parts clicked into each other and the branches fell into perfect alignment, my heart started to sink.  This is NOT what a Christmas tree should do, look like, or smell like (nothing.)  I felt a big letdown and was very sad and started to complain....

Then Hub reminded me of his 44 years of Christmas tree experiences -- driving to the farm, finding a tree, cutting it down, hauling it to the truck, securing it either on top or in the bed; driving home and unloading it into a bucket of water on the patio, a week or so later retrieving it from the bucket that sometimes was frozen solid, so thawing it first; then carrying it up to the back deck and sawing the trunk off to the appropriate height, wrestling it into the house and through three rooms to the living room; setting it in the stand, getting it straight and positioned to best aesthetic effect; stringing the lights that only rarely cooperated by having weathered the attic still functioning -- full strings burned out for no reason, half strings lit, some lit, then going out once they were on the tree; shopping for and spending a fortune on guaranteed-to-stay-lit LED lights that I complained about to no end because I found them intense and "dead", not sparkly like tree lights should be; then putting water in the tree stand base, usually spilling it on the floor and having to wipe up the spills...then asking me daily if I remembered to water the tree (most of the time I did; not always.)  I joined in during the hanging of the ornaments and the daily pleasure of enjoying the magic of smelling a real tree in my house.  I guess I had the easier end of the 'real tree' deal.

So, this year we have a fake tree.  Son Two sent me a video on Facebook about the environmental damage of manufacturing, transporting, and disposing of plastic trees compared to real ones, which only made me feel worse (thanks, kid) considering our concern for climate change, but here we are anyway with a plastic tree in the living room.

Our choice of a real tree was often met with a quizzical expression by friends who found it to be rather strange to choose a tree with so many big spaces and goofy branches, but we loved our old Nobles and Frasers that allowed lots of room for our dangly ornaments collected over the years reflecting the interests and travels of each family member for that year.  Now there is no "dangling" space.   This tree is perfectly (traditionally) shaped and lit.  I've cut way back on my old ornaments and replaced them with others I can just shove in between the branches and let them rest there.  I use a remote control to switch the lighting between all white and colors, depending on my mood.  There is no spilled water on our newly refinished wood floors.

And here's the thing: I have a whole forest of fir trees on our property where I can cut greens for the mantel and table top.  I have a live holly tree to cut sprigs for decorating homemade swags. I will get some evergreen scent in my home.   Family will gather.  We will reminisce about the old tree farm.  Our sons will not love our tree (they found real ones at other places for their homes), but they will love us and all the rest of our traditions that are still firmly in place.  Christmas will happen.

And Hub will be happy when the tree comes down in three sections and back in the box instead of a messy haul-out through the house, down the stairs,  and a long drag to the brush pile at the back of our property.  And we won't have to vacuum up stray, stuck in the carpet, needles for weeks.

O!  Plastic Christmas Tree!  How lovely are thy branches....


At least, that's the view from here...

SHOPPING FOR FIGS

All was calm, all was bright....until today.   Readers know I have teeny, tiny stress and Scrooge issues around the holiday season.  I always participate, often grudgingly, in all the traditional hoo-hah.  But I mostly just keep December 26th in view, ready for the checkered flag.

But this year, I've been...dare I say it?  Relaxed!  Happy!  Not stressed or resentful or overwhelmed or exhausted.  It's all seemed pretty easy-breezy.  As I said in a previous post, I've cut way back on many of the usual activities of the season and that likely helped.  So yay me!

But today.  Today I tackled the grocery shopping chore of the season.  We do a Christmas Eve Buffet and a Christmas Dinner for the family.  It's usually the same food every year and I'm frankly sick of it, so I decided last year that this year would be different.  I got on Pinterest and found some really cute and easy "finger food" ideas for the buffet, including a dessert that features figs!  Figs!  Just like the song!  Cool, huh?   We are having a different menu for Christmas dinner too.  I'm excited about both.

But it would be hard to overstate how much I HATE to grocery shop.  I mean I truly detest the whole ordeal.  Hub does 90% of our food shopping.  But he is working Monday thru Wednesday this week and we have our grand-girls with us Wednesday and Thursday too, so there was literally no time for him to hit Costco and the regular grocery store in time to have the ingredients here to prep.  So off I went this morning.

Costco was a madhouse by 10:30 a.m.  I drove around forever looking for a parking spot and finally got one a day's hike from the entrance.  Let me say something about shopping carts at this point.  I think we need to institute a cultural norm that when you exit your car and see carts in the parking lot cart coral, you grab one and push it into the store.  I did that this morning and was glad of it because people were literally milling around outside the entrance waiting for someone to bring the carts in from the parking lot and replenish the cart area.  Really?  JUST GO GET ONE!

But most people must not have been in much of a hurry because once inside the store, jammed with  shoppers pushing their Costco-giant-sized carts, one would think the ventilation system was pumping out sleeping potions.  Every single person seemed to move in slow motion in every aisle.  And "keeping right" seemed to be a pie-in-the-sky notion because people generally moved down the very center of the aisles, sometimes two and three abreast, literally coming to a dead stop at frequent intervals to check their lists, chat with an acquaintance, or abandon their cart altogether to head for ubiquitous food sample tables.  Please!  JUST PULL OVER!

I finally made it out of Costco and through the parking lot again where cars were at a standstill waiting for parking spaces to open up.  I should have taken bids on mine, in spite of its distance from the store -- I had three people jockeying for position as I pulled away.

I then had to go the "regular" store, also jammed.  As I headed in, I found myself in the crosswalk in front of the store where pedestrians ALWAYS have the right-of-way.  But as I crossed, a big blue Oldsmobile came bearing down on me.  I really and truly hate to say this because I am a proud and vocal anti-ageism proponent, but the woman driving appeared to be well over 80-85, could barely see over the steering wheel, and had absolutely no intention or thought that she should maybe be stopping for me, even though I WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER as she coasted (thankfully!) to within about a foot of my right leg.  I yelled, "JESUS!  STOP!" and jumped out of the way.  She just kept creeping along, foot never touching the brake, as I turned to watch her proceed at a snail's pace through the parking lot.  I am grateful she wasn't gunning it.  I'd have been a goner.

Here's a pet peeve:  grocery shopping is so inefficient.  I lift the items off the shelf and put them in my cart.  I push them around the store like some precious fragile cargo, then I stand in a long line, pick them up again and put them on the conveyor belt where someone else picks them up to scan, and yet another person picks them up to bag.  Then they are returned to me in my cart, where I wheel them gently to my car and pick them up again (at least now nestled together in bags) and put them in my car.  We drive home, where I pick the bags up yet again (!) and lug them into the house where they are plopped on the counter top and picked up AGAIN! to be put away.  By now I think we've developed such a meaningful and long-term relationship that it's no wonder I don't want to disturb them to pick them all up again to actually cook!  Ugh!  There must be some way to get that food from the store to my kitchen via quantum physics parallel universe convergence or something.  There's far too much touching and lugging.  And I don't even like to cook, so half the time my good intentions come to naught and the perishables perish before they are even put in the pot.

But that won't happen this week, because it's Christmas.  So bring me some figgy pudding...and bring it right here!

At least, that's the view from here....©

COME FROM AWAY...AND MORE.

Just thought I'd let you know how December is going so far.  I'm sure you've been curious about my vow to "chill".  So far, so good!

The tree is up and lit.  Ornaments will go on tomorrow.  A few table decorations made it out of the bins after all and I feel happy when I look at them.   Angel and I had a craft-making day on Saturday and cranked out some glittery stars and pipe cleaner/bead candy canes.  I play a couple of hours of Christmas music every day and burst into song all on my own on occasion -- mostly to entertain the granddaughters who seem to find my renditions either pleasing or hilarious.  Me too.

I've taken myself on a few easy, low-key outings.  The Assistance League, a do-gooder organization in town which runs a thrift store, manages estate sales, and provides clothing for low income school children, held a Home For the Holidays Home Tour fundraiser on Monday afternoon.  Being a weekday, most of the attendees were of retirement age and mostly female.  Like me.  It was fun to tour the six historic homes chosen for this year's tour and see them decked out in Christmas finery.  Talk about extravagant!  My practical side kicked in and wondered where they store all that stuff and how much work it must be to get it out, arranged, and put away again.  Also dusting...who dusts?   The tour seemed well-attended in spite of the downpour that day.  We all had to either remove shoes or put on those surgical bootie covers at each house.  That created quite the bottleneck at the entry, but people were of good cheer about it.   I went all by myself, something I rarely do, and had a great time going at my own pace, chatting and laughing with strangers, and seeing a few folks I haven't seen in years.   I enjoyed my own company and had a lovely, holiday-festive time!

On the way home, I stopped by a new coffee shop in town run by a local organization that provides housing, childcare, education, and job training for people who have experienced homelessness.  The coffee shop is their newest enterprise, attached to a vintage/antique retail store.  The proceeds help fund programs and clients work there learning retail job skills.  Starbucks coffee and a favorite local bakery provide the goodies.  I'll be back!

Yesterday was the annual neighborhood Ladies Holiday Tea.  It's a tradition dating back probably 30 years.  I have only gone a handful of times.  The whole "ladies" thing is not my thing.  I was always busy with meaningful work on "tea day" -- driving carpools, working PTA events, being involved in political campaigns, working full time, and just generally being all judge-y about "ladies who lunch". But this year, in my newfound desire to get out of my own way and just do things that sound like they might be enjoyable, with no highfaluting agenda attached,  I went.  Plus it was hosted by a woman right across the street who I like a lot, even though we are both introverts and rarely even talk in person. (We are email friends...weird, but it works for us.)  Well, it turned out to be a blast!  I thought I'd not know many women there, but I knew about half and it was great fun to catch up on neighborhood news, share some festive treats, and connect with others who have lived here for nearly as long as we have, as well as those who are new to the 'hood.  I realized that with 33 years at this address behind us, I am now one of the "old-timers".  Whew!  That's both hard to own and a source of pride.

Last night, was the topper:  A friend and I braved yet another torrential downpour to drive to Seattle to see a play.  We had to park a ways away since the Seattle Center garage was full (so many activities at the Center this time of year!) but that allowed us to see the grounds lit up for Christmas.  City Sidewalks...Busy Sidewalks...Dressed in Holiday Style...

The play was a lively and funny musical: "Come From Away" -- a Newfoundlander colloquialism meaning "not from here".   It was outstanding!  It's a story I knew nothing about.  On 9/11 US airspace was closed and flights from all over the world were diverted hither and yon.  One such place was Gander, Newfoundland, a burg of about 10,000 people on the North Atlantic coast.   On an average day their airport, mainly used by US military, sees 6-8 planes.  On that day, 38 jets landed, carrying nearly 7,000 passengers and crew members from all over the world!

The play is the story of some of those passengers and the residents of Gander who welcomed them with such compassion and caring and generosity, as these folks were grounded and far from home for five days before they could again fly on their way.  The townsfolk provided them with food, clothing, shelter (in their own homes in some cases), medicines, medical care...What an inspiring story!

"Come From Away" is all the rage right now in Seattle -- sold out audiences and extended runs.  Rumor has it, it will be Broadway bound --  a deserving kudo.  Last night was Canadian Night and the actual mayor of Gander was in the audience.  He received a standing ovation when introduced and he spoke briefly.  What a funny and warm, down-to-earth man!

People want to honor and embrace examples of kindness like demonstrated in Gander on that sad day in 2001, and what better season to remind ourselves that there are good people, (many... most, actually) in the world.   I'm still basking in delight and remembering, we've all "come from away" at one time or another.

At least, that's the view from here...©

PUT ON A HAPPY FACE

So, my BFF (and loyal blog reader/supporter) told me she looked back in this blog's archives.  (NOTE: Remember --there is now a subject index you can use to find posts related to various subjects (top left corner of any blog page; at least it shows up on my computer -- but not on my phone and I don't know why; different formatting for "mobile" sites?  I will never really understand this tech stuff...)

Anyhow...she went back in the archives and re-read some posts from last December and told me I really struggled with the holidays last year.  I haven't re-read them, but I believe her.  I struggle every year.  I both love and loathe this season of "joy", which is so often false, manufactured, forced, and too damn hard to sustain.  I have fleeting moments of joy.  The rest is a lot of work.

So this year I am determined to drop the quest for perfection, the almost OCD drive to create "holiday magic" for my family, and just "chill".  I may go all the way to ... dare I say it?  Selfish! I might actually sit down and decide what I want!

Decorating:  Hub put up some outdoor lights and garlands yesterday, but cut way back since squirrels decimated our lighting extravaganza last year (ate through the cords and ruined a King's Ransom in strings of lights!)  We hung a pretty wreath at the front door, which I love.  I have agreed to a Christmas tree.  I'm thinking that might be the extent of my decorating.  Hauling all those bins out of the attic and setting out a bunch of red/green/gold/silver hoo-hahs all over the house feels like a "should" and I already dread putting it all away.   I think I'll go out and cut some greens and holly and stick a votive amongst the foliage and call it good.  I might buy a poinsettia.

Gifting:  The granddaughters will make out just fine.  I'm focusing on educational, artistic, bookish gifts, but for our Angel I'd better throw in a Disney Princess of some kind.  The baby seems delighted with a set of measuring spoons.  Tee Hee.  The adults -- always a bit of a quandary, but have a few things stashed away in the attic and have a few more ideas.  It will be fine, except I wish all those years ago when I made big stockings to hang by the fireplace with care that I'd used a smaller pattern.  Filling those up is a challenge!

Cooking/Baking:  I suck at both of these and dread the very idea.  But I've been on Pinterest and have some new ideas for our Christmas Eve buffet so we'll see if I actually pull that off.   Christmas dinner is pretty easy -- ham for the fam and a bean burger for me.    Not gonna bake.  Will welcome any gifts of baked goods from friends and family. (Hint!)

Music:  I love Christmas music!  I grew up sharing TV Christmases with Andy Williams, Dean Martin, Lawrence Welk.... I just love those old renditions of holiday music and Christmas carols.  I've got it dialed in on the music channel on my DISH TV -- switching from contemporary to traditional.   Faves:  Silver Bells, Winter Wonderland, Let It Snow, Santa Baby, Silent Night.  Also the Mannheim Steamroller renditions of Christmas classics.

Outings:  I always think we should go into Seattle and do the city thing -- then I think of traffic and parking and crowds and rain; I generally talk myself out of it.  There are so many holiday shows and events to choose from I get a bit overwhelmed.  So, we're going to a Solstice Kirtan on my birthday.  Non-traditional, I know, but will be among friends and my spirit will soar with mantra.  I do hope to find a place to sing some carols at some point; might check out a church somewhere or a community sing thing.  Going to a couple of holiday parties; not hosting any this year, which cuts down the stress considerably.  Hosting means more decorating and more planning and more food prep, so we're taking a break.

Birthday:  Yep.  My birthday falls six days before Christmas, so there is an extra dose of festive in December for me.  I actually LOVE my birthday and I love celebrating it.  Hub and I always go away for a romantic weekend to our favorite little town on the Olympic Peninsula around mid-December; a friend is hosting a BD dinner for me (the milestone of turning 65 seemed to be an occasion for an extra fete), and the family will be by for BD brunch on the big day.   (Note: I do not allow anyone to wrap my gifts in Christmas paper.)

Do I sound curmudgeonly?  I actually don't feel that way.  I feel relieved.  I think I can actually pull this season off without sinking into December Depression if I can stay on top of keeping it simple, making decisions with thoughtfulness and intention, and quieting the "judge" who wants to scream "not good enough!" in my ear.   I'm going to put on a happy face and find gratitude in the little things that truly bring me joy.  Although, I admit, I'm currently working on the fact that the outdoor lights are not quite to my liking -- and parts of the deck garlands are already burned out -- that's totally not prefect from the get-go!   Even so, I hope to look back on this year's Christmas posts and say, "You did it!  You were merry!"

At least, that's the view from here....©

GRATEFUL, AT LAST

Well, that's over.  It's December 26th.  My favorite day of the year--usually.  But I feel a little like I'm just getting started.

Christmas season was quite a struggle for me this year.  My family and friends must have tired of my grousing and groaning and rolling my eyes and outright being negative with me singing my many and varied melodies of "I hate Christmas".  My decorating, cooking, and gift buying was minimal.  I sent out our Christmas letter, finally, on Christmas Eve -- a "Happy New Year" greeting as it turned out. I missed my mom a lot.  I derided the expectations, traditions, and commercialism of the whole thing.  I resented having to play along, when I just wanted to ignore the whole event.  Bah Humbug, indeed.

Then came Christmas Eve.  My family took up a whole row at the candlelight service at my beloved Unitarian Universalist Fellowship -- me no doubt beaming with pride and also noticing how all of us grandmas were looking around at extended families gathered and saw we were ALL beaming with pride.  It touched  my heart.

Then we all came home for our traditional Christmas Eve buffet, gathered in our living room which is under-populated the rest of the year, but becomes Christmas Central for a few days of winter when the fireplace is lit, candles burn, the tree is vibrant with color and Manheim Steamroller Christmas music serenades the scene.  Angel wrote her letter to Santa, we all exchanged gifts with Son-Two's girlfriend, who wouldn't be with us on Christmas, we talked and talked about Son-One and DIL's new baby, due in March, who would be part of our family next Christmas.  I felt all warm and fuzzy.

Christmas morning was quiet and I sat alone in the living room, letting all my angst and sorrow and anger and resentments melt away into a long meditation on gratitude.

In the afternoon, the gang gathered again.  Son One and his family brought cookies and fudge and spiced cider and bags of gifts and one excited little Angel who had had herself a fine Christmas morning at home playing with her Santa toys.  We all took turns unloading our stockings and opening gifts and I noted the thoughtfulness that went into each one -- the perfect gift for the person receiving it, obviously sought and purchased or made with pride and love.

Dinner, puzzles, books, assembly of the new bird feeding station, several games of darts on the new dart board, conversation, games, crafts….  How is it that I forget, or can't appreciate, that these are practically "Rockwellian" tableaus being played out right here in my house?  Why do I think it should all be even more perfect?  Even more jolly or festive or, I don't know, entertaining somehow?

Note to self:  Next year just shut up about hating Christmas and have a little faith.  It will all be more than OK.  It will be perfect, just as it is.

At least, that's the view from here… ©

THE NEEDING SEASON

A FICTION BASED ON REALITY:

I'll be so glad when the holidays are over!  The whole thing exhausts me.  So much to do, never enough time.  I am so distracted I often run out on some errand without my coat!  Coats are such a bother anyway, trying to get my seatbelt fastened over all that bulk!  I guess I could grab a lighter weight jacket, or my rain coat.  Crazy how we need about five different weights of clothing in the Northwest!
     Shirley shuffled along Hewitt Avenue.  The air was turning cold, night was not far off and she heard a man on the corner talk about snow coming.  She pulled her sweater around her a little tighter.  She'd walked the entire length of Hewitt ten times that day.  Killing time.  Trying to keep warm…

I'm getting so frustrated with shopping this year!  Toys are getting so expensive!  I must have made 20 trips to Toys R Us.  Every time I spent more than intended, but oh well.  Christmas only comes once a year and I don't want to disappoint the kids on Christmas morning.  The bills won't come in for a few weeks anyway.  Thank God for plastic!
     Carmin waited in line outside Santa's House on the first shopping day.  It was 7:00 a.m. and the doors didn't open until 9:00, but she knew she needed to get there early to get anything decent.  The good stuff went fast.  Donated toys were often broken or worn.  She spent Christmas Eve washing a dirty set of plastic play dishes last year -- a partial set.  She hoped to find a nice doll for Grace this year, but she knew she'd just have to take what she could get…

Of course there's also all the last minute shopping.  You know, those gifts you didn't intend to get, but you got one from them so now you feel obligated and there's always a last minute party invitation that requires a hostess gift.  Well, that's what the season is for, right?  Generosity and good will toward all!  Just like the Hallmark cards say!  I also see so much I just can't resist for me too!  And decorations!  So many cute things to make the house sparkle.  Oh, I love Christmas -- so beautiful!
     The van was crowded.  They'd kept moving it, to avoid suspicion.  It was getting cold at night, too.  The social worker said all the shelters were full.  Christmas was coming, but they could hardly put up a tree in the van!  Bill had been out looking for work all day.  Cindy and the kids had gone to the park early that morning to play, sit, and wait.  Finally she saw the van coming.  Bill climbed out and handed her a sprig of holly.  He wasn't smiling.  She tied the holly to the antenna with a piece of string she'd found on the ground.  They watched the kids swing.  Maybe they'd come back here on Christmas morning.  There was a big tree in the park, all lit up.  There wouldn't be any presents, or much food, or a warm fire, but at least they were still together….

I tell you though, family is what Christmas is really about!  Even though they can sure be annoying!  I mean, Uncle Hal is so boring!  And if I have to eat one more of Aunt Helen's "amazing jello salads" I'll choke.  And couldn't we just NOT watch sports all day on the holidays?  Sometimes I wish I could just go off by myself.  Now that would really be a special holiday!
     Rosa sat in the dark, holding her baby, both of them crying.  How had this happened to her?  In Mexico she was a bank executive.  Here she was a fugitive.  She'd come to this country with her American husband, but after all the beatings at his hand she ran from him.  Now the immigration service was looking for her.  She was not legal; she'd be deported and her baby would go to her husband or into foster care.  She missed her family in Mexico City.  What would she do?  Her tears continued to fall…©


We think of Christmas as the season of giving, but the season of giving never ends so long as the season of needing goes on and on and on.  I originally wrote this piece in 1991, based on stories I'd known of through the social service agency where I worked.  It's been published a couple of times since then, and still, not so much has changed in 2014.

May our Christmas be filled with blessings we appreciate  and generosity that we remember to demonstrate all through the year.

At least, that's the view from here… ©

MAMA

It's well documented (year after year) that I struggle with the Christmas season.  But the other day I just sat right down and cried.

Grief came calling out of the blue when I was cleaning my house, preparing to welcome dinner guests.  Thoughts of my mom came to me and my heart nearly burst with love and appreciation for her.  I wanted her back in my kitchen, sitting with me again, so I could tell her how much it all meant to me; how much she meant to me even when I didn't know it, rebelled against it, was too ego-centric or stubborn or just plain ignorant to tell her until she was well into her elder years and I was starting to have a glimmer of all she had accomplished as a wife, mother, and woman -- without complaint and with an admirable degree of good cheer.

I think of her most vividly at Christmas.  I know now the effort, work and worry that goes into "creating the magic".  She seemed to do it effortlessly, but nothing that memorable happens without effort.  My dad was a good father, but not a very helpful husband when it came to "women's work".  Jobs were definitely gender-specific and I don't believe I ever saw him get very close to the kitchen.  Or the vacuum cleaner.  Or the gift-wrap.  But it was all there, the Christmas magic, every year -- mostly a solo effort on her part.

Maybe some of my struggles with the season are about missing my mom.  My parents' home was always the family gathering place.  The tradition of hosting the holiday get-togethers was never passed down to my brothers or me.  We all went to Mom and Dad's, even when grandkids came along, even when I moved 2000 miles away and flew to Illinois for the holidays.   It wasn't until my dad died and my mom moved to the Northwest to live near me that I hosted the holidays.  It was a small gathering of just the four of us and mom.  The rest of the family was far-flung by that time.  Mom always brought coffee cake and fruit salad for early morning gift opening and always a dish to contribute the Christmas dinner too.  She carried bags of gifts wrapped and ready and was dressed in holiday finery with her fancy jewelry sparkling in the firelight.

Later, when her dementia set in, she seemed more confused than festive.  At her last Christmas with us she has a haunted look in her eyes, even as she is half-smiling in the photos and trying to remain present with the event.  I see my own haunted look of desperation -- the too-wide smile, the kneeling-at-her-side, arm-around-her-shoulders attentiveness,  the attempt to cheer her going so wide of the mark that now I  find the red boa and fuzzy Santa hat I adorned her in to be less fun than humiliating.

Christmas is a time of remembering and my memories of Mom are vivid and joyous; vivid and sad.

So I sat right down and cried the other day, tears streaming down my cheeks, dust cloth in hand, and murmured, "mama".    But she would not have wanted me to feel so bereft.  I can hear her, as I did so many times, say, "Oh, honey, don't cry.  I just want you to be happy."

Maybe me making peace with Christmas would be a way to honor her.  Maybe finding happiness in this supposed "Season of Joy" could be a healing practice.  And maybe a 64-year-old woman can just miss her mom...and that can be OK too.

At least, that's the view from here…. ©

ADJUSTMENTS MUST BE MADE

Once a month I facilitate a group called WISE -- Women Investigating, Supporting, and Exploring -- a gathering at my Unitarian Universalist church for women over 60.  We investigate what it is to be an "elder", how our culture views us, and what we can do to bust a few myths of aging. We support each other with sharing of  joys and sorrows, challenges and victories. We explore where we are and where we are going next, setting goals, making plans, making peace, and still raising our fists, fighting to the end for a better world.  We laugh a lot too.  

Yesterday we exchanged recipes, which is about the most traditionally "old lady" thing we've ever done.  We had a blast, each pulling a recipe out of a passed basket, then listening as the person who brought the recipe told the story behind it; why it was special to her.  We also talked about what kind of Christmas we are having this year:  Joyous, Lonely, Cranky, Broke, Sick…  there are all kinds of responses to this season, not all of them Merry and Bright.  Our minister gave a really good sermon on this topic right before our WISE gathering.

Something that came up for one woman was acknowledged by many.  There comes a time, often, when we are no longer the hub of the magic.  We are "retired" from being at the center of the festivities, as kids marry and move away, go to the in-laws instead, or just decide they don't really like Christmas.  Maybe we've lost a spouse, or have moved to a smaller house, or just don't feel like continuing with all the hoopla.  Sometimes Christmas sucks.

We decided there is a degree of freedom in stepping back, but there is also the possibility of a great deal of grief when our role changes, often not of our choosing.

My "kids" still come to our home for the holidays and I am grateful for that.  Yet there are times when I feel sad about losing the place of importance and primacy in my grown sons lives.  We were so close when they were young and my life pretty much revolved around them.  Gladly so.  Yet, the successful outcome of all of those years of dedication is bittersweet…they grew strong, independent, and capable of creating families and lives of their own.  

There are times when I miss the "old days" and indulge in a bit of longing for more closeness and intimacy at times.  I feel a little sorry for myself and that feels good -- to acknowledge my sadness and aloneness.  Then I dust myself off and realize the days of holding them in my arms, tousling their hair, hearing their most secret hopes, dreams, frustrations and griefs may be gone, but...

My job isn't really finished.  I continue to teach and show them the way, just as I always have.  I continue to model for them what I hope for them to experience as "elders" -- a life that is lived at a slower pace, but one still filled with passion and purpose.  

I can still reach out to them in ways they can accept now -- with a text or a phone call or a Facebook post, a small gift, a word of encouragement, a reminiscence, a loving hug, a weekly family dinner.  I am there for them, a constant in their busy lives, even when they don't notice.

I am there, just as they will be for their own kids, in some far-off future Christmas season when they will shed a tear, too, for what has passed, what has changed when they are no longer the Center of the Universe for their grown children.

And that's as it should be; it's just hard sometimes.  Our work is to acknowledge new realities and adjust accordingly, with love for them…and ourselves…at Christmas and always.

At least, that's the view from here… ©

SCROOGE YOU, CHRISTMAS!

Oh, Christmas Season…you old foe.  I've largely given up the urge to run from adversity, having gained skill in "being with what is" and filling my emotional toolbox with a wide selection of just the right gadgets to get me through most anything, eventually.  But you….you….you still get to me.

One of my BFFs is jetting off to Kona this weekend for a month-long stay and I am still holding out hope she will kidnap me and make me go along.  And when I say "make me" I mean, my bag is packed.  But more likely I will be here for the duration of the Falalala-ing with December 26th circled in red on my calendar -- my favorite day of the time period from Thanksgiving to New Year's.  What some call a let-down, I call relief.

Relief from the traditions, expectations, "to-do" lists, socializing, shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning, last minute shopping, lists, lists, lists, socializing, socializing, socializing, socializing….

I hear your advice, so don't even bother.  You would be amazed at how little I do for the season compared to when my kids were young and I ran around like a friggin' Martha Stewart clone.  To look at how I do the season now, comparatively, you'd think I was comatose.  Still…

I don't think it is entirely my own doing that causes me to fall into a Christmas Season funk.  I think it's the whole craziness that has grown up around it and this culture of commercialism that has influenced even the ways in which we think we are rebelling against it all.  As if the pressure weren't great enough to create a meaningful, festive holiday I now am asked to "walk my talk" at an even brisker pace.

The pressure to "shop local" means no gifts or gift cards from stores my family loves.  (I must have been a terrible mom to raise children to adulthood who go the mall for clothing -- where's your sewing machine???  And buy their lumber at Lowe's -- grow your own!!!)  No bulk items from Costco that would make food and drink more affordable (even if I only buy organic, free trade, uncaged cheesecake?).   No new Christmas music downloaded from I Tunes (get out the old clarinet; make your own music!), No new books (and every single other thing I can imagine) from Amazon  (Fine…I'll write a book and impose it upon my unsuspecting loved ones).   It's just a different version of the quest for perfection.

So, yeah.  I'd like to be sitting on a beach about now and on Christmas morning,  papaya juice running down my chin, Mai Tai in hand, I'd raise my glass to shield the sun.  My BFF and her hub would then serenade me on their dual ukeleles plunking out a little "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas", as the waves kiss the shoreline.   Yep, that sounds about right.

At least, that's the view from here…. ©

SANTA BABY

Well, once again, 'tis the season for me to wrestle with the bipolar roller coaster that is my Christmas thrill ride of holiday mental states.  I both love and loathe this season for many reasons.  It is the epitome of all that is right and wrong in our culture.  No need for me to illuminate this thought much.  You get it, I'm sure.  It's everywhere -- the commercial excess, the mean-spirited greed, the peace of a full moon-lit night and the open-hearted generosity we remember to act upon.

And unbidden memories often come a-calling that are not in keeping with the season at all.

Today as I was sipping my Starbucks Decaf Peppermint Mocha, inching my way in heavy traffic down a city thoroughfare through a commercial strip that runs north and south in my city, I noticed on my right an establishment called Lover's Package.  There was a mannequin in the window dressed in red, in a rather more skimpy Santa suit than you see at the Mall.  Oh, and the mannequin was a shapely woman.  Barbie figure shapely.  Her "suit" was of fur and lace, set off by patent leather knee high boots.  Very Christmasy.

I was suddenly boosted from my grumpy holiday gloom and let out a LOL chuckle.  (ChOL?)  I recalled the one time I actually went inside that store many years ago.  Hub and I had been at a fundraiser at a social service agency nearby.  Maybe we had a couple of little glasses of wine.  Or three.  On a lark, we said, "Hey! Let's go in there!  Could be fun!"  So we did, rather sheepishly.

We are not prudes, but it is still a bit unsettling to wander among the DVD shelves displaying titles like, 'You've Got Male", "On Golden Blonde", "Good Will Humping"…. not to mention the many and varied tools and toys of the trade so brazenly displayed.  One tries not to make eye contact with other customers.  One hesitates to ask the clerk for assistance or recommendations of any kind.  One refrains from standing too close to the window facing the street and wishes their car was parked in a less conspicuous location.  One just wants to get the hell out after only a relatively short time.

One does NOT want to look up from studiously purusing the Pocket Rocket options to see one's elementary school-aged son's male PE teacher walking through the door.  Especially when one is the PTA President that year.

It would be a very discerning observer to be able to determine which face turned the most crimson as eyes met between PTA Mom and Mr. P.E., or to determine which did the most stammering, stalling, and making of excuses for being there.  PTA Mom finally just busted out the truth -- "I'm maybe a little tipsy and just thought this would be a lark; didn't expect to see anyone I knew."  Mr. P.E. claimed to be searching for a Stag Party gift and they didn't have what he wanted, so, "I'm leaving now."   PTA Mom challenged that lame excuse with a huge guffaw and wondered aloud…"What is that you could possibly want that they do not have in here???"  Then we both laughed and swore each other to secrecy.

On Monday morning,  when Mr. P.E. and PTA Mom met in the school hallway, there was a cordial nod.  Maybe there was even a slight smirk, but nothing was ever said of it again.   Ever.

And that is my happy Christmas tale for today.  I'm going to put Eartha Kitt's slightly racy rendition of Santa Baby on the stereo, and find solace that the Spirit works in mysterious ways to lift one from the doldrums.

At least, that's the view from here….©

CHRISTMAS RECAP

Well.  I'm glad that's over!  There is perhaps something a little wrong with me that I don't adore Christmas as much as I think I should.  I blame Hallmark.  And Andy Williams (my mom's fave).  And Lawrence Welk (my grandma's fave).  And all those "very special episodes" of my favorite TV shows growing up.  How can something real possibly live up to the fiction that was so firmly embedded in my developing psyche, watching all those shows as a kid and imagining on some level of fantastical thinking that I could re-create what was portrayed with soundstages and costuming and traditional carols sung by choirs and cheerful holiday tunes played with full orchestration -- or with accordians.  Oh, but I tried.  For years and years, I certainly tried.

Actually, this year I had a pretty good holiday season, if somewhat different than usual.  For one, I cut back on socializing.  I hosted one small afternoon party -- a "housewarming" for a few women to help a friend with gifts to set up a new apartment.  I said no to several invitations and events.  I stayed home a lot more than usual.  I bought fewer gifts and decorated less.  I was not stressed, overwhelmed, resentful or exhausted.  And by Christmas night I had this thought:  "That was really nice, but not as festive as usual."  Now what does THAT mean?  Do I equate "festive" with the craziness of bygone holidays?  If I am calm and and not swirling in chaos, have I let something slip by that I should have attended to in order for the holiday to be more magical?   We did all the usual family traditions and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.  What more could I have asked for?  I just need to adjust to a new normal -- myself at peace.  Who knew how weird that would feel?!?

One disappointment, however, is my willingness to finally admit (denied for years in the face of all good evidence to the contrary) that the tradition of sending Christmas cards in the mail is just about completely obsolete.  I have been a hold-out -- I send out abut 40 Christmas greetings every year.  Over the past 3 years those I've received number about 15-20.  I don't sent them to people who I see all the time -- mostly to distant family, old friends, or "locals" who I don't see as often as I used to, or those I do, but for some reason we always still exchange cards.   I am pretty tenacious about friendships and I am usually the last to let go.  And at Christmas time I get sentimental when I go through my old address book and recall the memories attached to those names.  I've sent out a family photo for 27 years (since Son-One was born) and for the past 10 years, I've also sent a Christmas letter (with a personalized handwritten note) -- some too long, I'm sure, and this year's but a few sentences.  I suppose some people have hated them -- they seem to be universally dissed.  But I actually LOVE receiving them myself.  I love hearing the highlights of family life--trips, travels, moves, jobs, etc.

This year I got about 15 cards, (some signed with no personal note,  just names), one letter, and three family photos.  Paltry.  So, maybe I need to wake up to the fact that this tradition is on life support. Choosing a card, making a photo, writing a letter, addressing and stamping and mailing...some say they don't have time for all of that.   I guess...but it makes me sad.  It is a gift I have loved both as a giver and as a receiver.  I sit and read each card over and over, enjoying the scene, the note, the photo (bonus!), the feeling of connection over the years and the miles.  But I'm drastically trimming my card list for next year; I'm starting to feel embarrassed.

The highlight, absolute and unforgettable was the Christmas Eve service at my church.   We are Unitarian Universalists, and Christmas is our most Christian celebration of the year.  We decorate and sing carols and wish each other a hearty "Merry Christmas!"  Extended families come to the service and this year my family took up a whole row!  My favorite moment was at the end of the service, the lights dimmed and each hand-held candle lit person-to-person as we sang Silent Night together.  Angel was sitting next to me.  She, at three, was "iffy" for holding that candle unaided (as she insisted), but she was oh so careful and sat very still and looked around her with such wonder and delight.  I glanced left toward Hub to try to catch his eye at the end of the row, but he was staring straight ahead, no doubt lost in his own Christmas Eve memories and experiences.  I glanced the other way to the other end of the row and saw Son Two, Son One, and Future Daughter In Law all grinning ear to ear as they watched Angel with her candle in the dim light.  We smiled at each other and my eyes welled with tears of utter joy.  My family, on Christmas Eve, passing on the traditions that bind us together, through some years of chaos and some years of peace.

At least that's the view from here...©

"SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME..."

Here we are, right in the middle of the fa-la-la-la-la Christmas season, caught up in shopping, baking, decorating, planning, organizing, socializing....a time when our hearts sometimes have a hard time finding "Christmas Spirit" amidst the "to do" lists that this holiday has become.  And then an act so unspeakable and at odds with the season of peace and love shakes us to the core and focuses our attention away from ourselves and our petty troubles.

On Friday, a crisp blue sky day in Newtown, Connecticut, a troubled young man, carrying at least two rapid-fire weapons, entered Sandy Hook Elementary School and started shooting.  Within only a couple of minutes, 6 adults and 20 children, between the ages of 5-10, were dead, as was the shooter, who took his own life.

Facts are slowly emerging of acts of heroism by teachers and school staff, whose first thoughts were to keep their students safe.  Facts are slowly emerging about the perpetrator, who had also killed his mother in their home before descending upon the school, who seems to have suffered his whole life with significant mental health issues; as we so often hear, he was intellectually brilliant but socially withdrawn, even pathologically "shy" and reclusive; a loner.

My first thought, as is my first thought every time there is an eruption of gun violence (which is frequent), is that troubled people with access to guns leave more carnage in their wakes than those who do not have a readily available gun.  I am an unequivocal proponent of gun control.   Within hours of the shooting, I re-joined the Brady Campaign to End Gun Violence and wrote to my Senators and Congressman.  I might finally be giving in to my frequent impulse to "get involved" in an issue or cause again.  I've always known this would be the one.  For me, it's the only action I can take to try to mediate the overwhelming sadness and frustration I feel when something like this happens, something I believe could be prevented.

But right now, I don't have any energy for "organizing".   Instead, I am reminded of a saying that comforts me:  "We are spiritual beings having a human experience."  Humans are flawed, vulnerable, confused, loving, compassionate, violent, crazy, amazing creatures.  So, my energy is going into creating havens of peace for the human experiences in my little world. My energy is going into advocating for "radical kindness" within myself and others I know.  My meditation practice teaches me to "stay in the moment", to be aware of the vast cosmic consciousness that exists in and around us, connecting us all, and that the only answer to the troubles of the human experience is to be kind, to love, to act with compassion.

There is a meditation in the Tibetan tradition called Tonglen, where one invites on the in-breath the suffering of another into our consciousness and on the out-breath sends out love, peace, and healing to that person.  I have been practicing this meditation since Friday, both in sitting silently and at random times during the day when I am going about my life's busy-ness.   Meeting violent, unspeakable acts with compassion for those impacted (which on one level is all of us) is the only response I know right now.

For Christians, this is the season celebrating Jesus' birth.  He was an example of love and acceptance and also acted to upset the status quo.  His example might be one we can  emulate in the days and months ahead, beginning as we gather around our Christmas trees holding those we love with special care.

So, my prayer is this:  May all those little children and the adults who gave their lives for them, the families left to mourn, and the person who fired the gun, all find peace in the compassionate, loving presence of Divine Consciousness.

At least, that's the view from here....©

MAKIN' A LIST...

I guess the obvious theme of this month's posts will be "Christmas/Holidays".  Today's topic, Dear Readers, is my continuing attempt to create some modicum of magic...with lowered standards.

But here's the thing.  So far my decorating consists of a kitchen countertop covered with scraps of paper upon which I've started various lists:  gifts to buy, groceries to shop for and prep, guests to invite, cleaning to do,  RSVPs that need a response.... And there are duplicates, naturally, of lists I started and lost and re-wrote...

Without my lists, I would get nothing done.  But today I feel like the ONLY thing I am doing is writing more lists!  This is the point where my inner Scrooge is screaming, "IT'S NOT WORTH IT!"

Yesterday I had a long talk with Hub about this annual struggle of mine.  He pointed out that, while he didn't love being out in the rain and the wind stringing festive holiday lights on the bushes and house, he just kept visualizing how great it would look when he was done.  He said I get stuck in the "hassle-factor" processes of things and lose sight of the goal.

Bingo!  I've never been much of a goal-setter.  I react more often than act...at least in some places in my life.  I have a vague notion of an end result of some endeavor, fantasizing a soft focus magical feat of perfection, but to back up and  figure out how to make that happen, then do all the work required (some of it no fun!), and know it will NOT be perfect, I just conclude, "Not worth it!"

Writing this sort of stuns me.  I am known as a pretty organized and responsible person.  I take leadership in lots of things.  One might mistake me for being mature.  But what I wrote in the previous paragraph is anything but.  It's lazy, whiny, and damned immature, in my judgment ... and I am EXCELLENT at judging myself!

So, now I am making a list of all the events (goals) of the coming weeks:  Parties to host and to attend, dinner out with friends, family birthday party (mine!), Christmas Eve/Christmas Day family festivities, church services and emcee-ing a retirement program for our minister.  All of them are going to require planning, purchasing, organizing, and prepping in a myriad of ways.

But I will keep my eyes on the "prize" of being there, with family and friends, the work of it all behind me.   And once at my goal, I will be present with what is....not critiquing the imperfection of the end result, but appreciating the perfection of being blessed enough to have such an abundance of love and connection in my life.

Something to add to the Gratitude List.

At least, that's the view from here...©

CHRISTMAS FAIL

I am already thinking this post should probably be in my personal pity-party journal, rather than here to be endured by my readers.  But since this blog is about honesty and maybe validating the thoughts and feelings of others, here goes:

I am a failure at Christmas.  Take this morning.  Hub headed up to the mountain for a day of snowboarding.  I pretended I was going to clean the house. (He should have seen through that).  But, no!  Sneaky girl that I am, I saw it as a day to go out there and do some Christmas gift shopping!  I had a couple of ideas in mind, a couple of little things for Hub, as well as this's and thats for the rest of the clan.   I brushed my hair out of my face, put on a cute little outfit and sensible shoes and timed my drive to the "big mall" 20 minutes south of where I live to arrive not long after opening so I could park within 1/2 mile of the entrance.  It went swimmingly.

Then I went directly to the store where I just knew I'd have success with the items for Hub.  That's where it went wrong.  (I can't be specific here, cuz Hub reads this blog regularly, bless his heart -- "Hub, close your eyes!")   The items in question are not exotic; they should have had them.  The first, nada.  The second, a dumb and crazy-expensive version of what I wanted.  And the clerk was rude, so I left...right after purchasing the cute, cuddly jacket for myself which I found on the sale rack.  And a pair of gloves I've been wanting.  The dress didn't fit, so I vowed again to cut back on sweets and to hop on the treadmill when I got home.

I was a little flustered with my lack of success at what was supposed to be the easy part of this shopping expedition.  I got outside that store and started heading to the department store across the mall to shop for others, and with each step, visualizing that huge store, my unfamiliarity with where things were there, the plethora of overwhelming choices I would face....my steps slowed.  I stopped, closing my eyes as happy shoppers streamed around me, and decided I just couldn't do it.  I did an about-face and headed for the parking lot.

By the time I got back to my town I had thoroughly chastised myself for wimping out.  I decided to give it another go at a smaller version of the same store north of my town.   (Yes, that's a lot of miles, gas, time....Shush!)  But first I had to do something, I don't know, comforting.  Hello Starbucks!  (Forgetting that lose weight vow of only 20 minutes earlier).  Eggnog Latte and Cranberry Bliss Bar in hand I was back in the car and heading north....for 2 blocks.  Again, the store loomed in my imagination, parking, going in, choices, indecision, expense....grrr...I turned and headed home, kicking myself for not being more creative about gift-planning the other 11 months of the year.

That's where I go wrong.  I detest shopping in general.  I'm OK at specific things at specific stores, but to "go shopping" just for fun, or "nose around" for no particular reason, or "I'll find something eventually" adventures do not appeal to me.  So every December I am in this same predicament.  I didn't plan ahead, I didn't "craft" anything appropriate, any imagination or brilliance I might have had, say, in July is now as soggy and wet and inhospitable as this morning's weather.

Oh, I'll figure it out and pull it together.  I always do.  But I am not a fan of the season.  I think it's because, like with so many things as I look back, I did not pace myself.  I used to be really good at this. I was the friggin' Christmas Fairy around here, creating holiday magic and rituals and traditions, as if my children's childhoods would be bereft without them.  Then they grew up and I grew tired.

Yes, I know it's not about gifts.  But I don't even feel like decorating this year.  I'm slowly turning into the biggest Scrooge ever, if scored on the "Outward Displays of Christmas Spirit" scale.

What I want and what I will get, for sure, (gifts or not, decor or not) is... time with my beautiful family, a fire in the fireplace, yummy food, board games, jigsaw puzzles, holiday music, special gatherings and services at my church, parties with friends....

As for something to open on Christmas morning, I wish I could just wrap my heart, so full of love and devotion and pride and compassion, and offer it to everyone I care about as a talisman to keep them safe, content, and in love with life forever.  That's what I wish.  No shopping required.

At least, that's the view from here....©