Christmas in July...August..September??

It has been nothing this Summer to turn on the TV and channel surf, finding several stations advertising Christmas decorations and various gift ideas. I wonder how many people dripping sweat coming in from the outside are eager to see the "beautiful angel ornament", or Mrs. Pringles Cookies or whatever.

We have not even hit Labor Day, and I am bombarded by Christmas already. Home shopping networks have smiling hosts pushing little candy cane candles that appear to have real flames!! Oh boy!  I have been in some stores already that have Christmas trees. The trend for this approaching Fall appears to be mixing Halloween with Christmas. "Happy HalloThanksMAS!!" Thanksgiving is almost non-existent - like the middle child- and Christ is left out of the picture anyway in retail, so the name is appropriate.

I would like to enjoy the coming cooler days and Autumn colors without the flash of red and green, with rein deer prancing on TV or in store windows. I don't know how we started to bleed one holiday into the next, but this really needs to stop.

My mother wants to look at Fall decorations at a home center store nearby. I figure we better get there before September ends, or we may be looking at Easter Eggs..

Butternut Squash Soup

I have not posted in awhile  because I have been partially having a pity party, and  partially indignant, wanting to write in anger, and that does no one any good, especially myself.
Being laid off after 15 years is not a good experience overall, but it is teaching me patience, and to take it one day at a time instead of going nuts trying to figure it all out.
I have sent out many resumes. Overqualified. Under qualified.  Interviews where they just start interviewing for a position that was not the one posted...
Sometimes I cry behind my shed, but more often I laugh because they are such idiots that I am sure I do not want to work for them.
Don't get me started about recruiters. They are worse than lawyers, and I hate them. Every real job lead I ever had came from myself, not any of those morons.  They have the follow up skills of a three year old (with much apologies to any three-year-olds that read my blog).
Well the SUV is broken down again, and I have no money now, but I imagine I will get it back on its wheels by the end of the month. I do have a new fishing pole, however, and I plan on using it this weekend, but tonight I am just going to enjoy this bowl of butternut squash soup. It is creamy and earthy and makes me feel close to the land and my garden, even though I only contributed the rosemary and thyme.

Garbage News

It seems like any news article or anything I watch just depresses me. I think maybe I need to change my sources. I watch on a news program where the trend is to interview the most loathsome, nasty people who hurl expletives and make remarks that I would expect from maybe a three year old.
News articles that are printed that have nothing to do with anything really other than exploiting trashy tawdry lives of other people, supposedly to titillate their audience.
It used to be you had to read the Enquirer or watch Jerry Springer to see this kind of behavior, but it has made it into the mainstream news. On MSNBC, they interviewed a woman supposedly involved with a politician, with the anchor describing her as crazy with a curse word he later had to apologize for.
I read an article in the local paper where poor women trying to get free supplies for their kids for school referred to as "Big Mammas" and other slanders that appeared to me to be making fun of the underprivileged and people with a weight problem.
It is not like I am picking up or watching from sources known for this kind of trash, things I avoid that I know will bring me down.
Whatever happened to the mindset of reading and writing things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely - of good repute, the things our minds and hearts should be dwelling on? - to paraphrase Philippians 4:8.
The sad part of this is that we all make a choice on what we read and see, and we the people have let our standards down so low - either we just don't care or we are now all so worn down with our own problems and drama in our lives that we can't deal with one more thing.
If we stop watching it, the ratings will go down and it will be pulled off. If we stop reading it, then it will no longer be published - maybe??
I am very doubtful when grown adults can be entertained by other's ignorance, misery, and misfortune.
I refuse to digest this garbage and let it invade my mind and lower my standards.
Will you join me?

Christmas Past Christmas Present - Not quite Dickens

Conversation:

"Hello"

"Hi, what are you doing"

"I am eating, and I am also fixing something to take tomorrow night"

"Oh....well I thought if you had your tree up and decorated, that I could swing by and see it, and I haven't seen your apartment....maybe when your room-mates are out..."

"We don't have the tree up yet, and everything is a mess, it isn't a good time."

"Oh, OK I understand...let me know when you get the tree up, and I can come by sometime."

"OK, Sure, I will let you know."

"OK, bye.."

"Bye.."

As I hang up the cell phone, I am a little disappointed that I can't stop by my oldest's apartment, but I do understand, believe me. She probably got off work and had to go grocery shopping, come home and fix something fast to eat while she also made what she was taking to an event the next evening. Clothing and accessories are probably flung from here to eternity, and knowing her, she dirtied every pan and cooking utensil she has creating whatever it is she is bringing.

I hear an old Christmas song on the radio, and my mind goes back to a wintry day a long time ago when Christmas seemed a little sweeter, and no more poignant than now, considering that my kids are all grown, and no Grand kids so far....A little pink snow suit and a little girl outside with a toy broom trying to sweep the freshly fallen snow away from the tires of the "Blue Bomber" in the driveway....Milk, giggles, and cookies after the girls "helped" their mom make them...Looking at the tree with the toys and little clothes wrapped neatly under them, somehow wishing we could have afforded to get them more. But when the day came, their happy, shining faces did away with any doubts that they were having a wonderful time unwrapping
the packages, and scattering brightly colored pieces of wrapping paper for the cats to sniff and play with until they were collected for the trash. Thank goodness I thought to film these moments - some I have on VHS still, and others I converted off the 8 MM when I had a converter kit to make them mpeg to DVD files.

The radio switches to an even older song, one I had not heard in years.."Toy Land, Toy Land...."  I remember an old record player with a 33 RPM record spinning slowly on it with what sounded like a boys choir singing...then the record moved on to another song..."I Saw Three Ships A Sailing.....On Christmas Day In The Morning." After that part there was a small organ solo, with up and down sounds the waves might make, which fueled a seven-year old boy's imagination. Even though I had never seen the ocean, I too was sailing on the sea in a ship..

That whole Christmas season is ingrained in my mind. Some things you never forget as milestones in your life, good or bad. This one was a particularly bad one. We had lost my sister that November in a car accident. When you are seven, and the youngest, everyone seems grown up. She was nineteen, a big grown up girl to me. Only nineteen. My youngest daughter is twenty, and now when I think of  how young that truly is, and what potential was lost there, it makes me ache.

Thanksgiving was a few days after the accident, and my aunt staying with us graciously cooked the whole dinner for my mother. We had the traditional dinner, as much as possible. I know my parents tried their best to keep life as usual for us still living at home, and I credit their upbringing and fortitude of that generation. I would have been a basket case. We were shielded from much of the deep grief that my parents experienced., and as an adult, I deeply appreciate that they realized their responsibility to my sister and I to keep as much of the trauma away from us as possible.

I found out talking to my sisters that my mom did not want anything to do with Christmas that year. I remember we had a recording of "Blue Christmas" that we had previously loved that became the bane of my parents, and it was unceremoniously put away when someone made the unfortunate choice of playing it one evening. Even with the tree and the presents, there was an ever present pall in our home that made the contrast with the season almost ghastly.

It was decided that we would not have Christmas that year - at home anyway. As soon as school let out for the holidays, we were packed up with all the presents and went to my uncle and aunt's two states away. I think this did much for my parents, and I know my sister and I thought that it was paradise at their house with my older cousin living there to entertain us. My uncle was a minister with a nice home, and they had a thriving church social life with something always to do or going on. There was no time to mope. I remember that they had a large tower across the street with a red light at the top, and my cousin and sis tried to convince me that  it was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Another highlight of the visit was Santa Claus coming down the twisting roadway in a firetruck, with lights and sirens blasting and blazing. We ran out and stood by the road waving and shouting, glad that he found us even in Ohio.

My aunt and uncle also had another member of their family that we were not quite so fond of; that was Mimi, their dreaded pekingese . We were all terrified after witnessing several attacks on furniture and on the stairs by this little horror. Whenever we ran upstairs, she ran at us, growling and biting the bottom stair as if to show us what she wanted to do to us if she ever got close enough. We were fine if we stayed away from her, and my aunt was normally the only one who dealt with her, and she told us that even she was nipped on occasion. This led to a leery draw between us and that dog. We watched her out of the corner of our eye, never getting close, but our cousin would occasionally shake an orange couch cushion at her to get her "all worked up", much to our dismay. No wonder the poor dog had problems.

Finally Christmas Eve had arrived! The tree served as the center of attention, each of us kids wondering at what might be under the tree. We basically camped out there that night, ate snacks, and listened to our parents talking of the past and other Christmases. After some time, we were forced to go to bed. My sister slept upstairs with my parents, and I slept in one of the twin beds in my cousin's room. At some point in the night, I woke up. For a minute I forgot where I was at, and once remembered, decided I needed to go to the  bathroom. This has never been an issue there before, but as I entered the dark room and felt around......something licked my hand.....ugh...I pulled my hand up, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw that it was THAT DOG! Mimi! I started to panic, and then I noticed that she was not springing for an attack, but she was laying on the rug with..a litter of Christmas puppies. I crept back into my cousin's room and got him. We stayed up the rest of the night watching Mimi nursing the puppies, talking in whispers until my aunt, sensing something was going on, came and moved the dog and pups out of the bathroom and into her bedroom.

I vaguely remember the rest of our stay after that happened. We opened our gifts, and ate a huge dinner, courtesy of my Aunt Mary Ella. To this day, the dinners she made for company remain unmatched for the amount of food, and satisfaction afterwards. I think we stayed maybe for a couple of days longer, and then headed home, back to Illinois, and what faced us there. We went back to school and work. We grieved.
And at some point my mother and father were able to move on. My mother told me much later as an adult that one morning she was able to get up and find pleasure again in the soft breeze coming in the window, and the sound of the birds as they chirped from the many trees my dad planted in our yard, and she realized we were all going to be OK., and my sister was safe forever in God's hands. I faced my own grief and dealt with it in different stages in my life as I was not fully able to absorb it all as a seven year old.

Many Christmas's have come and gone since then, but I remember this one from my childhood so vividly,  I am sure, because of the tragedy surrounding it.  Yet,  I take comfort in it because of the great love we had -  and have -  as family for each other, and even in hard times, that love can keep us and sustain us.

Where Have All the Children Gone?

You see the pictures flash across the news screens. A little child sitting at a table, eating cake. Maybe sitting in a kiddie pool with a big smile on their face. Unfortunately, this is not a human interest story, but the latest victim of kidnapping or worse.
Does anyone know what is going on here? I would like to know, or maybe I don't. Especially since the latest perpetrators are possible family members, or even a parent.
Have we blurred the lines so much between fact and fiction;  life and death as scripted on TV and movies that we are so desensitized to what life really is? Are we the backwash from the 'Me' generation, where no one is as important as me myself, not my family, not anyone. It is all about me and what I want. I want to party. I want to have a life. I have this child that is in my way for some reason. I don't have time for it. If I sedate it with this chloroform for a few hours, who will know..wait a minute. She won't wake up...
Where is the child's father? Who knows? Who is responsible? Who is accountable?
Then another child is missing. Another parent is questioned.
Who is the parent? Who is the child? I am a victim myself. I perpetrated this act because of my Mother. Because of my Father..
No, you are responsible.
But you live in a society now where everything is permissible.
Fifty percent of all Americans are now on some form of public aid. I have no responsibilities, no commitments. I can lie on the couch all day and let my children run wild. They are upstairs now watching a video. I have no idea what it is.
The maintenance man is also upstairs working on the ceiling fan. He is actually shocked that such young children are watching this movie, it must be rated at least a hard 'R'. Language to make a sailor blush, yet the children are soaking it all in with glazed over eyes. Anything is better than the reality of the non-responsive lump on the couch downstairs. The man wants to do something, but what? If he says anything, it could be his job if  the lady says something that gets back to the agency supplying her with housing..
When did being a contributing member of society, raising a family,  and creating a feeling of accomplishment fade off the American landscape?
Over eighty years ago, this county had an economic crisis.In 2008, we had another economic crises. What is the difference?
1. Back then they focused on survival. Today we are still focused on self gratification.
2. Families were a tight knit unit. Children moved in with parents and grandparents. Today families are undefined or fractured.
3. There was a strong work ethic. People found things to do for money. Today society is to complicated. It is easier to stay home and collect money, besides, low paying jobs will not pay enough for anything. We can't merely survive anymore. (See item #1).
4.Back then they played music for entertainment or played games like chinese checkers. Or told Ghost stories. Today we  have to have multimedia to be satisfied. The price of one game could feed a family.
5. Staying together as a family was paramount. Today, it is every man for himself.
6. Back then people had hope, despite the trials. They believed in God and country. They worked hard to have a better life for their children and grandchildren. Even if they were not overtly religious, they believed in the moral values taught in Christianity, Today - there is NO moral compass. Every man is right in his own eyes. Hope is gone. There is no chance for a better tomorrow unless I get my way. Until then I will drink up or take prescription medications until I can't remember my name or......where is Molly? She was here playing in the floor a minute ago? Why is the door hanging open? What is that noise....a siren?..

Merry Christmas Memories

I was getting ready for work this morning, and as I scanned the living room, I saw the gifts spread across the room, and thought to myself that the girls got a little crazy this year with the presents. They are now both working now, and grown. Somehow we got them through their tweens and teens fairly unscathed.

I don't remember my first Christmas as a married man, but I do remember my first Christmas with our first child. We lived in an apartment, on the first floor. There was an apartment above us and below in an old colonial style house across from the grocery store. Whatever food the people cooked upstairs, the smell drifted down into my clothes closet under the stairs, which was not great, but they did play a lot of good music. They particularly liked the Charlie Brown Christmas album around the holidays, and I am pretty sure Ashton listened to that from before birth wafting down the stairs. She still loves that album, and she and her sister insist that we listen to it every time we put the tree up, even after all these years.

That first Christmas there, our oldest was only a little less than two weeks old, tiny and helpless, laying in the bassinet we moved into the living room. We had a tree that I think my parents gave us with a few meager presents, most if not all toys and clothes for the baby. I was not making much, and Sherry was not working at all at that time. I was working nights at the time, but I actually got Christmas Eve night off. We had gotten back from my parent's house and were just sitting in the dark with a few candles lit. Sherry was holding the baby and Ashton was asleep. The stereo was tuned into a station playing Christmas carols and 'Silent Night' was being sung quietly in the background. We decided to unwrap the gifts while the baby was quiet, and as each one was opened, Sherry showed me each little blanket or toy that she had managed to buy. I think we only got each other one little thing, and I had went to the store where a friend worked and bought a small wooden cat decoration that sat on the edge of a table or window ledge. I think that was the last gift my wife opened, and she sat it on the edge of the table and admired it. We had so little, yet we had so much. A tiny apartment, one car, not enough of anything, but more than enough love.

In With The New

I hate change. I just left 2010 behind, and there were some thing I just was not done with.

I did not get to say proper goodbye to my dog. I hope he is O.K. If I don't think about it too much he is safe somewhere.

I was not really done with the holiday. I really did not get the time to to look at the tree for any length of time, at the lights and the ornaments that we hung up that are contributions from the kids or a memento of a special time or place.

I am not done with my gift giving. I could never give enough to those I love.

I was not really done with the last season, if you want to get technical. I did not have enough time to walk through all the piles of leaves, or drive through all the scenic locations - sip hot cider and chocolate in the autumn chill around a bonfire.

I am pretty sure I missed the last of my tomatoes on my vines out back.

I never did get all of that rock garden finished before Mother Nature decided for me I was done.

Wow, there is a pack of seeds still sitting on the workbench with bright pictures of ripening fruit on it.

Did I mention: I never stained the deck, nor power-washed all the siding, reduced the burn pile, started composting, or did more work on my book?

Oh well, there is always this year.