Merry Christmas to all

With Christmas but a few days away, I want to send my wishes that your Christmas will be filled with love and peace. Our condo is decorated simply this year and while many of our decorations are from our early years together, we do have some more recent arrivals. My favorite is is a  humble little tree sent to us by our oldest daughter, Ginger. When we were here for our first Christmas, she asked me if we would have a tree. I said, "No." That just didn't sit well with her. And so, a few days later, our tree arrived. It fits in quite nicely with all the "old" decorations we've accumulated over the years.

Over the years, we've all kinds of trees---tall spindly ones, short chubby ones. Will always went out and picked out the tree. Often, one or more of our daughters would go with him. Whoever braved the cold to do so always would claim "their tree was the best ever." We'd all gather around and decorate together, at least until they grew far into their teens. I confess my favorite part was tinsel, something that we don't see nowadays. Not sure why. Will would repeat his directions every year: "drape the tinsel, don't throw it or drop it on the branches."

Looking back on my childhood, I am amazed about how my parents created the magical feel they did especially knowing how stretched their budget was after WWII. When we went to bed at night as little children, there was no sign of Christmas. We believed Santa brought everything on his sleigh.

In the morning, we'd awaken to a tree centered on a large platform. Trains chugged around it. Our gifts snuggled at one end and our stockings were stuffed with candy, always a tangerine, and sometimes a bit of coal, too. Often our stocking held a note that led us to another part of the house where we'd find ice skates, a new sled, and once, for my sister, a bicycle.

My dad sometimes fell asleep in his chair while my mother made our Christmas dinner. Now I know why! For some reason, I never shared my appreciation with them. I wish I could now. Somehow, though, I think they know...

Christmas Seasons

With Christmas but a few days away, I want to send my wishes that your Christmas will be filled with love and peace. Most of us can recall those special Christmases, perhaps those of our childhood, or with our first love, or later, those with a growing family, followed by those with grandchildren.

Over the years, Christmas celebrations tend to evolve as each of us builds our own treasure trove of memories. If you're like me, some of the memories fuse into others. As a child, I remember getting a tangerine in my stocking and so, the smell of a tangerine will always evoke childhood Christmases for me. Over the years, time changes our celebrations. I can't imagine ever putting a tangerine in my children's or my grandchildren's stockings!

I remember meeting my husband, Will. Those were the days when we took lots of pictures. This picture, taken in 1959, was our first Christmas together. We were young, then, and carefree, too. I recall we had to visit both sets of parents that year. And try to eat two turkey dinners, as well.

Since then, we've celebrated fifty-five Christmases together. If I had a chance to relive those years, I would have kept a Christmas journal. Then, I would be able to go back and check out each one. Now, they merge into a lovely pattern much like a quilt made of many hues.


In quick succession, our four daughters came along and with them, late nights of putting toys together, then arranging them under the tree. Ginger, our oldest, was always the "scout." While her sisters quivered with excitement, she would run down the steps, check out the scene, then call up to her sisters, "Santa came!" Then we'd hear another three sets of feet bound down the steps. And our Christmas morning would begin...way too early, but nevertheless, filled with joy.

Way too quickly, they grew up, married and began their own Christmas traditions. Again, Christmases evolved but with glad tidings as life was developing as it was meant to be.

Soon, grandchildren hit the scene. Another golden time, another gilded, ribboned wrapped growth of Christmas change. This, for me, was really special. This picture of me with our grandsons Nathan and John, was taken a Christmas that I'll never forget. Nathan, four months old, was sleeping on a blanket close to the tree while we were all in the kitchen. We heard a thud and ran in. The tree had fallen over and Nathan was under it! Not a sound was uttered by this dear baby boy. We pulled the tree off of him, unsure if he was hurt, but thankfully, not a branch had touched him.

Those years went quickly, way too quickly. And now my beloved and I find we're back to the beginning. Our children and our children's children all live far enough away that Will and I are two once more. We still celebrate with gifts and phone calls, then visits after Christmas day. We're content and feel blessed to be together and well. We rejoice in the day and knowing all of our loved ones are safe and celebrating, too.


May you and your family have a blessed Christmas and fun making memories together!

Flowers of Winter

God gave us memories that we might have roses in December.  ~J.M. Barrie, Courage, 1922

 

Every December, as Christmas approaches and the end of the year draws near, for me, is a time of reflection, a looking back. Generally, this contemplative time begins after the shopping and mailing of packages is completed. But this year, my annual life review threatened to sabotage the necessary tasks that come with the holiday.  Daydreaming replaced concentrated, organized gift selection!

I blame the change on my neighbor, Harry, a consummate gardener whose talents we enjoy all summer from our front deck. The day before Thanksgiving, he brought over brought over an armful of roses from his still flowering garden. We were enjoying a wonderfully warm fall, even eating lunch in the sunny protected corner of our porch. "Hard to believe they're still growing," he said.

"Yes," I answered. "Hard to believe, but wonderful, too." I clipped the stems and placed the bouquet in a green vase on my dining room table. In the next few weeks, I passed by the roses a lot. Each time I did, I thought how comforting it was to see them bloom this time of year.

As the temperature dipped and we moved further into December, Harry's bouquet brought to mind Barrie's wonderful quote and my thoughts turned to how increasingly important the role memory takes as we get older. Not that I'm done making memories—not by a long shot, I hope! After all, I'm only seventy now. I still cling to the autumn years of my life, with their wonderful lingering warmth from my summer season.

I like to think the winter of my life is still far from away, but based on how rapidly my life has gone thus far, I know the approaching winter of my life is much closer than I want to believe. Sometimes, I wonder about what it will be like once my winter fully arrives.

We visit a senior center once a month to do a program entitled, "Remember When." These seniors (older than I am, of course!) are firmly entrenched definitely in the winter of their lives. They prefer sharing their memories, memories evoked by old the movies, events, and songs of their summer years, mostly the forties and fifties, rather than their later years. I learn from them that the days ahead can also be filled with joy and laughter, but most of all, bolstered by the memories that keep us warm.

Here's a few nonscientific things I've come to believe about how memory works as we get older:

• Memory is fluid and dynamic, ever changing. Each memory takes on a different hue, tone, and meaning when we view it from a distance created by time.
• Memory is a way of holding onto the things we love. It tells us who we are in our innermost self, and is tied to things we never want to lose. As a result, it only a natural evolution that we find it holds so much a larger part in our lives as we age.
• Memory is the book we write in the silence of our hearts. And like writers, we can discover the freedom to alter our history and tell it a little more like we wanted it to be. Have you ever noticed how the fish in any fisherman's tale gets larger with each telling?
• Memories, like the proverbial fine wine, improve with age. And as we get older, we gradually may become the only one who is the memory keeper of our family. An awesome, but joyful thing to contemplate!
• Memory is selective. As Austin O'Malley notes, "Memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food. Nora Ephron speaks of this in her new book, "I Remember Nothing." Have you ever searched your mind for details of some neamingul event in your life and come up blank, yet you can remember an incident that would appear to have no significance whatsoever in the broad schematic of life?
• Memory, like the sea glass we find on the beach, holds fragments that we treasure without reason. Or as Cesare Pavese (The Burning Brand) says so well, "We do not remember days; we remember moments."
• Memory of our childhood remains imprinted in our memory bank for all of our lives. Sometimes, I ask myself why I remember all the details of my elementary school yet scarcely remember the hallways of the college I attended when I was forty years old?
• Memory of bad moments come mostly in the middle of the night. Have you had any of those moments when what you failed to do or did haunt you?

Bob Hope always finished his performances with a song called, "Thanks for the memories." Yet, memories are the flowers of our winter and it would be a very cold time without them. And like the roses of winter, they keep us warm. They're what we're made of and what we're left with.

The Interlude between Christmas and New Year's

I always find this a time for reflection and kind of cleaning up loose ends before the New Year begins. It's a pause. There's nowhere I have to be - no meetings, no commitments. This brief interlude affords me time to squirrel in and do whatever I've been avoiding or not had time to do.

So, today, I decided to edit my Picasa file. For some reason, I've copied pictures in several different files, so I have duplicates and photos in all the wrong places - twice. Does anyone out there have a neat way to file all these images? If you do, shout it out.

Of course, looking at all these photos soon turned into its own occupation: reminiscing about all the good times and the moments when I may have lost my cool on one of those trips. I'll have to add "patience" to my New Year's Resolutions this year. After several hours, I was pleased to note I only had two more files to go. I'll do them later. I'll have to add "eliminate procrastination" to that New Year's list.

Needing a break from all this, I opted for a snack of Brie, crackers, apples, wine, and a dish of cashews, just a small dish. I'll have to add "lost five pounds" to that, you guessed it, my New Year's Resolutions.

Now, I'm back to my computer determined to write another post. This whole blogging thing is new to me. How do you find topics for yours? If you have any thoughts, let me know. And again, I better add "commit to a blog a day or at least three a week so I can get the hang of this" to that lengthening list of goals.

Part of my problem is I'm not sure of what theme my blog should have. I see other blogs. I view them all with admiration. There's blogs on the '50's - I use them to do a reminiscing program for seniors. There's cooking and baking blogs - I go there for recipes whenever I want to try something new, which is often. And of course, there's political blogs - I go there when I'm bored or want to learn more about what other people think. Sewing blogs, too, where I can check out quilt design, colors, and other things. I definitely must add "decide what you want to be, at least on your blog" to that Resolution list.

All of this brings me to a question: How many of you are Resolution junkies like me? Stay tuned for my next blog. It definitely will include some pointers on how to make New Year's Resolutions. Every journey (change) begins with the first step.

Christmas, Past, Present, Future

Though Christmas comes but once a year, doesn't it seem to come so quickly? It seems as if we no sooner put the decorations away and it's time to get them out once more. So much to do, so little time. I always look forward to the day arriving because I know I can't do any more shopping or planning.

A sense of peace descends upon me and I know it's okay to put aside anything that hasn't yet been done and enjoy. This year, my husband, Will and I, will be staying home for the third year in a row. All of our children and grandchildren are far away - with only one living close enough for us to drive. And at that, it takes us two days

Our first year "alone," I worried about not going to one of our daughter's houses, but now, we've settled into our new routine and I look at it as a new time in our life. Sort of like our first Christmas alone together. Though, I don't even think of that first year as one truly alone since I was already pregnant with our first daughter. Already, I was thinking of myself as Mom and Will as Dad. That was 47 years ago! My, how those Christmases have flown by.

Each year, since then, I've put out our Christmas stockings, the ones I hand stitched that first year as a surprise for Will. At the time, he didn't act too thrilled. Looking back, I realize that more than likely the concept of becoming a father within the first year of becoming a husband hadn't quite soaked into his psyche. Since our daughter, Ginger, was nestled just under my heart, I think it was easier for me.

I find as I live longer, all the Christmases of my life are part of each year's celebration. So, I guess we really are not alone since all those memories live in our hearts. There's a bittersweet quality to the holiday as I review all the cherished mental pictures - our early years with our little girls as each one joined our family, their growing years, and yes, a little sadness as they grew beyond the magic of Santa Claus. Just a smidgen, though, one that was overcome by my joy in seeing them grow as they should into lovely young women.

Later, I wondered how much longer I would have all four come home for the holidays and then, all too soon, it happened, fortunately, not all of them at once, and the change was sweetened by the addition of grandchildren. Ah, once again the magic of Santa... Then all too soon, that, too, evaporated as the children of my children grew into their teen and preteen years.

As each year comes and goes, I no longer take them for granted as I did in years past. To be with my beloved, to talk to each of my children, and at least some of my grandchildren, is a gift beyond any other.

So, our stockings are hung, boxes from North Carolina and Florida have arrived and the presents await. Now, we, too, wait for the arrival of the Presence ourselves. And cherish not only the old memories, but the making of new ones. We are blessed in so many ways.

Merry Christmas, One and All!