Posted on November 26, 2005
It’s become a new tradition (I suppose this is an oxymoron, but traditions have to start somewhere.) that my aunt and I trim her Christmas tree during our annual Thanksgiving visit. And I have my friend, Noreen, to thank for this.
Over the years, Noreen has made Christmas a special time in her own home. She has a large house and therefore has more than one tree set up and decorated. I’ve lost count, but I think she does seven or eight trees in various rooms with various themes.
For a couple years now, Noreen and her husband, George, have also come to our house and helped decorate our tree. It’s not that I can’t do it myself; it’s that someone who really loves doing it can make a difference in the experience. And, out of Noreen’s help to us, I’ve learned to pass it on. Which is why my aunt and I now decorate her tree together.
The men drag out the tree and its stand from a basement hideaway. Then they leave for a health club, hoping we’ll get inspired in their absence. We usually do. Aunt Alice pulls out her boxes of ornaments and we set to work. For me, her ornaments are interesting because they are not the same as mine. (Perhaps that’s part of the fun for Noreen when she comes to help me decorate my tree.)
I think there’s a message here, and it is this. Decorating Christmas trees should be a time to reminisce, to study the ornaments and remember where they came from, to recall other Christmases either good or bad, and to take pleasure in the present when all the reminiscing is done.
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Posted on November 25, 2005
I have four first cousins, the children of my Aunt Alice and Uncle Dick. Aunt Alice is my mother’s younger sister, and she and I have an affinity that defies description. I leave it at that.
Even though we’re the same generation, my cousins and I are still getting acquainted. You’d think it would be otherwise, but when we were all children there were not a lot of opportunities to mingle. My mother and I lived in the East or the Midwest, while Aunt Alice and her family lived in Colorado. In addition I am the oldest of my generation, with nine years on Bob, who follows the closest.
Now we’re all middle-aged; in varying stages of raising families; and in equally varying stages of careers and winding them down. Naturally, I’m somewhat ahead of Bob, Dave, Kathy, and Steve. Not that it’s a competition.
Earl and I have made it a tradition to visit Denver at Thanksgiving, and we had a wonderful time yesterday. We love getting together with my aunt’s extended family; we love being treated so royally as special guests; and we love seeing my cousins and their families. It’s only once a year, but it’s a great connection. So when my aunt and uncle go to the Thanksgiving table in the sky I hope to be included in my cousins’ version of the earthly tradition.
That’s what family is about.
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Posted on November 24, 2005
Originally, Thanksgiving honored the friendship between the early settlers and the indigenous Indians who helped them survive those first harsh winters in America. It was a time to break bread together and give thanks for food and friends.
Times have changed. And yet, they haven’t.
Indigenous peoples struggle as they might have back then. Americans struggle too. In the wake of hurricanes and wars and faltering economies, most likely there will be many this Thanksgiving who are thankful merely for some shelter where they can get a hearty meal.
I am not among them. Instead, I am blessed with a cornucopia of abundance. Oh, I may grumble about the fact that my bathroom remodeling project is taking too long. And that I had to travel on the busiest day of the year. But in the grand scheme of things, I am thankful that I can afford to remodel my bathrooms and take a trip to visit my family.
I’m thankful for other things too. My sons, both grown, seem to be in good places, something that hasn’t always been the case. My partner, Earl, and I get along better and better with each passing year. The fall was not as beautiful as usual, but it certainly lingered longer. Maybe an easy winter is in sight. I have my health, my friends, my writing, my plans for the future. For all of this I’m thankful, not only on Thanksgiving but also every day of the year.
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Posted on November 23, 2005
Today claims the record as the busiest day of the year for travelers; it’s the day before the long Thanksgiving holiday weekend and everyone is on the move. Earl and I are right there.
I debated about whether to travel today or tomorrow, when things are somewhat calmer; but price determined my final decision. So we’re leaving mid-morning to drive from St. Joseph, Michigan, to Chicago’s Midway Airport to get there in the requisite two hours before flight time at 3 PM. Of course, by then weather and delays could have wrecked havoc on our plans, but that’s the roll of the dice.
At the other end, we arrive in Denver, Colorado, around 5 PM local time. It’s the height of rush hour, not only the regular work-to-home frenzy but also those people leaving work a couple hours early and heading to the airport for early evening flights elsewhere. My aunt and uncle will pick us up, but I hope they take provisions in case we are stalled somewhere along the way. A good book would probably help too.
Our only goal is to get there without spending a night camping on an airport chair or claiming the terminal floor as a bed. We’ve been doing this a few years now, and so far everything has gone off like the proverbial clockwork.
Which means we’re due for disaster.
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Posted on November 22, 2005
Last night I attended a jewelry party, hosted by my friend Jeannine in her home. Not ever having attended one before, I didn’t know quite what to expect.
Was I walking into something like a Tupperware® party, where the guests play games, answer silly questions, and win clever prizes? I once won a gadget that peels an orange, and I’ve bought more than my share of plastic containers that you burp to seal.
Or was it like the cookware party I went to, the brand name of which escapes me. I remember the host and hostess invited me to dine at their home, a full course meal that the cookware representative prepared in her pots. Of course, watching the preparation of a meal and then waiting to eat it meant I was there a long time.
The food was good, but I knew what was coming. I was going to be hit up to purchase this particular brand of cookware or, worse yet, have a party myself. My pocketbook thought the cookware was expensive, and the thought of hosting a party and enduring the same meal again didn’t appeal to my appetite. That was the only time I’ve attended a home party and not succumbed to purchasing anything. I will say I crossed the party-givers off my list too.
Then there are lingerie parties, cosmetic parties, tarot parties, and jewelry parties. Now, on a scale of one to ten, I’d rank Jeannine’s party up there. There was a gentle sales pitch encouraging guests to purchase two items because the third one was half off. There was also the standard request to book a party, but there were no games, no prolonged confinement, and plenty of great shrimp cocktail. The jewelry was interesting too. I succumbed to purchasing four pieces, and you’ll be seeing me wear my snowman pin for the coming weeks.
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Posted on November 21, 2005
The bathroom countdown continues . . . and continues . . . and continues. Will it ever be done?
Of course, certain phases are done. Demolition has long been over; upgrading the plumbing and the electric has come and gone; and the major reconstruction is all but complete. I thought I would feel good about this; and in some ways I do. But what’s left – the minor details that make something look finished – lurk this week.
We have to hang mirrors over the vanity sinks, put knobs on the drawers, glue the new baseboard in place, and touch up the scratches all this makes on the fresh paint. We have to purchase towel hooks and toilet paper holders and even new towels. We have to figure out how to operate the heated floor, which can be programmed just like a fancy thermostat on a furnace. So if you want to shower at midnight, you can preset the floor to get warm at 11:45.
Then we have to find our clothes, which have been scattered to other closets around the house waiting to return to their new home. I’m not even sure I can remember where everything is.
On top of that, today we had every single carpet in our house steam cleaned, which means all the furniture in every room has been moved. I had scheduled this appointment more than a couple months ago, never dreaming it would butt against the remodeling disarray. But my carpet cleaning guy books way out, so I didn’t dare cancel. Instead, we’re walking around in damp socks, waiting for the carpet to dry, and figuring out how I’m going to tell the workers that they can’t wear shoes in the house anymore.
The real solution is that Earl and I are leaving town on Wednesday for the Thanksgiving holiday, while the workers will be left behind with a key to our house and a giant punchlist to accomplish in our absence. I guess we won’t know if they wear shoes inside or not. I just hope that when we return we can return to a normal existence too.
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Posted on November 19, 2005
I had not heard of Pennsylvania’s Representative John Murtha until he openly criticized the Bush Administration’s current handling of the war in Iraq this week. Murtha, who was first elected to Congress in 1974, is the ranking Democrat on the House Appropriations defense subcommittee.
Murtha’s background also includes 37 years as a Marine. He’s seen war up close. And, in 2002, it didn’t dissuade him from being hawkish about committing troops to Iraq. The Republicans appreciated that point of view. But now he’s changed his mind and has publicly stated so.
Naturally, this is causing a stir on Capitol Hill. In fact, according to the local newspaper, White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan is comparing Murtha to filmmaker Michael Moore.
I see it this way: Congressman Murtha has changed his mind, based on what he sees today. He felt differently in 2002; he’s reevaluated his position and come to a new conclusion. I’d like our President to consider the same approach. Changing one’s mind is not necessarily the same as turning and running away.
I am tired of the entire debate about whether Bush massaged information regarding weapons of mass destruction to advance his own agenda. I am tired of the catcalling and the potboiling from both political parties; and I am really, really tired of listening to the President give the same old rationale for staying the course.
One fact we all seem to agree on is that no WMDs have been found to date in Iraq. Another fact is that violence there is a regular occurrence. And another is that over 2000 American military have died. Something doesn’t seem to be going right.
If I went for a hike in an unfamiliar wood and, after an hour or so, began to sense that I was lost, I would not keep going forward and merely wish I were on the correct trail. I would stop, take a breath, evaluate where I was, and possibly retrace some steps. If other hikers were with me, I would ask their opinions and take their experience with such situations into consideration. And maybe I’d even salvage the day.
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Posted on November 18, 2005
President Bush is somewhere in Asia getting ready to meet with the head of China. My lack of precise details shows how uninterested I really am. At the same time, I’ve heard smatterings of Bush’s remarks about the behavior of other countries; and I shake my head.
President Bush is on the offensive, meaning he’s trying to justify his own administration’s position on many things. Like exporting democracy (with a lower case ‘d’), forming international alliances, repudiating countries who want to develop nuclear weapons, pushing for the eradication of terrorist cells.
Some of these goals are certainly admirable; For instance, I for one am not in favor of allowing any and every country free access to the power of hydrogen bombs. However, I don’t think the administration’s approach is going to be successful. If not, then why? Well, I think it’s because our President has gotten himself into a rut, one that repeats ad nauseam that we are right no matter what, rather than we are all right when we work together.
I believe in the Peter Principle, the one that says a person rises to his or her appropriate level of competence; and everything after that is downhill. That’s where George W. Bush is right now. There is no 9/11 to fortify him, no cheering stock market to boost him, no Congress to rubber-stamp him.
Instead, he has to fight for himself. And I sense he is losing the battle.
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Posted on November 17, 2005
Last year, on November 21, I wrote about the barrage of gift catalogs that had found its way to my door. Well, they’re back again.
Today’s mailbox yielded about half a dozen harbingers of the holiday season, each one enticing the reader to buy. Had I taken them all seriously, I could have refurbished my home, restocked my pantry, and redone my personal wardrobe. Maybe even purchased a Christmas gift or two. But I’m more callous this year.
It’s because of our remodeling project. There’s no room to consider putting up our tree or other decorations just yet. So rather than being spread over two or three months, the various chores that comprise our usual Christmas ritual will be compressed into the time between Thanksgiving and December 25.
Which means I’m becoming more pragmatic and cutting back on catalog browsing and gift buying. In turn, I don’t page the catalogs with the same eagerness I had last year. They’re are coming in at the same rate, but the recipient is in a different place.
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Posted on November 16, 2005
I find I’m exhausted today, even though nothing particularly challenging or unexpected happened to sap my energy. Rather, I think reality just arrived on the doorstep.
We’ve had a glorious fall, weather-wise, but today a forerunner of winter blew into town. Temperatures dropped dramatically, the sun disappeared, and the wind exerted its role as boss. The gray day reminded me of the one saving grace of having it get dark early: you can’t tell it’s gray outside.
In addition, this is the middle of Week Seven on our remodeling project, the one I’d hoped to finish in four weeks. I’d heard the axiom “Twice as long and twice as expensive” more often than I would like in my life, and I’d hoped to show it didn’t have to be that way. Like a child who refuses to give up believing in Santa, I still felt reality could match my expectations.
However, the actual reality is that I’m three weeks late in getting our bathrooms done and it’s beginning to grate on me. I see progress, but it’s slow. And I’m tired of feeling as if I’m camping out in my own house.
I will say we’re still within budget, and I supposed I should find some consolation in that. But not tonight. Instead, I’m going to grab a good book, curl up with an afghan, and bury my head in someone else’s problems, fictional or otherwise.
As Scarlett O’Hara once said, “Tomorrow is another day.”
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