Reasons to Love the Season!

     The writing prompt was “Three Things I Hate About the Holidays”, but I can’t bring hate into this season!  I love Christmas!  The music, the movies, the good cheer – I love it. 

     When I was little I would sit next to the record player and put on Mitch Miller, Bing Crosby, the Christmas Is for Kids album, even How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  We actually had an album.  I can’t remember if it was the whole story or just the music, but I loved listening to the Whos in Who-ville, singing their song.  As a teenager I veered away from the classics and gravitated to Mariah Carey and Paul McCartney and anyone else that was popular at the time with a Christmas song.  I still like to hear Bieber and Gaga but I also love Tony Bennet and Ella Fitzgerald and Dean Martin.  It brings me back to that living room, that record player, and that family.  It was a good time to be a kid.

     When it was time to get the tree my dad would grab his old handsaw and we would pull on our boots and coats, hats and scarves, and if it was really snowy (which it usually was) we would have to wear snow pants or even a skidoo suit.  When I think about it now I bet we looked like Ralphie’s little brother in “A Christmas Story”.  We would trudge out to the forest behind the hill out back, looking for the perfect tree.  We always found one, and it was always the best one we ever had.  Even when we pulled it into the house and set it up and we could see the glaring holes and wayward branches.  Somehow, once the decorations were on there, no one ever noticed.  We had such old and beautiful decorations.  

My brother and I always longed for the newer ones.  Now I wish I had those old frosted glass baubles.  A few years ago my cousin sent me an ornament that our grandmother had acquired at the last minute after a Christmas Eve disaster.  Every year since, when I hang it on the tree I tell the story of how it came to be in our house, and the kids say “You say this every year!” and I always say “Tradition”.  (Huge Fiddler on the Roof fan, here)   We go to a tree farm now, no woods behind our house, but we still go out and choose and cut our tree. It takes a while, but it is still fun and everyone looks forward to it.

     My mom would slave in the kitchen for days making cookies.  Mainly sugar cookies, the kind you would roll out and cut into shapes.  After they were baked we would all sit around the table with different colors of homemade frosting and colored sugared and sprinkles (my favorite) and we kids would get to decorating.  There were four of us at the most, sometimes three and we would decorate about six or seven dozen.  Mom would make up plates of all the cookies and pass them on to our neighbors and friends.  She’d wrap them in cellophane and put bows on the top with a Christmas card.  She made cookies that were rolled in corn flakes with a cherry pressed in the center, and peanut butter balls that had rice crispies in them.  I can’t remember the other kinds.  When I got older I made hard candy that she included.  When I got out on my own I started my own baking traditions and started building gingerbread houses.  I make peanut butter balls and Oreo truffles, biscotti and sometimes Russian tea cakes.  Only no one wants food anymore.  Everyone makes their own now.  I do it anyway.

     Christmas cards were a family affair.  Dad would write a Christmas letter and we would all sign it. I tried to do one too, but I reverted to cards.  I used to write them out on Thanksgiving night, after the tree was set up (back when I had a fake one).  It was a quiet time of reflection, being thankful for the folks I was sending warm thoughts to.  Now we make our cards and it is a rush to get them out.  This year I got them to the post office on December 22.  Too close for me and not a lot of time for delivery.  I will start earlier next year.  I will be prepared.

     We have been watching some of the classics with the kids – Rudolph, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and Elf.  I’m waiting my turn at the library for “The Muppet Christmas Carol”*, which was recommended to me by my boss and a movie I have never watched.  I still watch “Miracle on 34^th Street” and “It’s A Wonderful Life”.  On Christmas Eve I even cuddle up to Alistair Sim and watch the original “A Christmas Carol”.  I know that they will keep some in their repertoire and discard others as they get older, but I hope that we are giving them some permanence in a very Bedouin type of life they were born into.

     Yes, I love this season!  People are nicer, they smile a little easier, they seem to be more considerate, and a little less hurtful.  Merry Christmas everyone, and may you keep a bit of it in your heart in the coming new year.

*Fun fact – On the news the other day they noted that The Muppet Christmas Carol taught more children about the spirit of Christmas than any other Christmas film.  They got the message.  Now I have to see it.

Summertime...

   “Summer, summer, summertime…”, as Will Smith and DJ Jazzy Jeff sang, back in the 90’s.  Well, it sure isn’t here.  We’re in the middle of a monsoon, it seems.  I am saying this lightly, I do realize that monsoons are ferocious and this definitely isn’t the season here, but seeing so much rain makes one say some strange things.

   My gardens are getting a beating and I only hope the sun comes out and stays out for a while soon.  My tomatoes and peppers sure could use a little love, and me talking to them, encouraging them not to give up, doesn’t seem to do the trick. 

   Even my beans, that are so hardy they should grow anywhere under any conditions, are turning yellow and giving up.  The whole garden is depressed, as am I. 

   My treadmill quit a couple weeks ago.  My boyfriend is supposed to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it but that has yet to happen, although he has tried.  In the meantime I have switched to the Wii and the Just Dance games, using mainly the sweat mode, to complete a workout.  Generally I try to do this every other day, but days go by sometimes.  Other times I can get some activity in a couple days in a row.  The thing is, I started running a couple months ago – on the treadmill.  I’ve only tried it twice outside and I don’t like to do it because I’m self-conscious.  However, it’s the only exercise now that makes my body feel tight, strong and healthy. I’ve really got to get out there.

   Tonight there is a book signing and reading that I have just been invited to, by my brother because he’s got some of his work in it.  I should go.  I want to go, but I was out of the house last night and the dogs have been alone all day – again.  I’m not sure what I should do, but I think the right thing to do would be to go.  I’d want my family to show up for me.

   So it is the next day and I DID go for a run outside, and I DID go to the book signing.  Both things that I feel very good about doing.  I’m exhausted today after a few long nights, and I’ have a headache, but I still feel good.  It was a busy week with pottery class, an extreme amount of phone calls and begging from my kid, worrying and family stuff.  I’m glad the weekend is here and that I’ll be spending it with my grandson.  I can’t wait to see what we end up doing.

   It’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow, but I think it’ll be nice enough to walk in and explore, and maybe that’s something I can give him.  An observation of nature, a natural curiosity.

   I love summer.  It’s more than a season, it’s a feeling.  It’s when one can exhale, relax, and just go with the flow.  I’ll be doing that this weekend. 

   As Will Smith sang “Got to sit back and unwind…” 

I've Got Little Levon On My Mind

   What is wrong with this picture?  Dad goes out with baby, brings baby home, leaves baby on front porch to unlock the back door, baby goes missing for two weeks before his disappearance is reported.  Poor Levon Wameling.  This poor child.  I hope that he's alive and that he's with someone who is loving him and treating him like he is worth something because apparently his dad thought of him like he was a stray cat or something.  I can just picture him saying "Oh shit, where did that kid get off to?"  No, it's not funny, it's pathetic. 

   Where was this child’s extended family?  I know I don’t see my grandchildren every day, but after three or four days, if they haven’t called, I’m calling them.  I expect to at least hear their voice in the background if not talking directly to me.  Also, if they disappeared off my porch I would immediately start yelling for them, not sitting on that information for two weeks.  Yes, we all long for a little peace and quiet, but not like this.

   Yes, the father is a person of interest.  He definitely should be.  I have to wonder if there were any agencies involved with this child.  Did the Department of Social Services have an interest in him, and if so, did they check up on him?  I know they have many cases that are sometimes overwhelming, but these children need to be checked on.  I believe Levon’s mother was in rehab at the time and awareness of his disappearance came about when she got out.  How tragic for her, to take the first step to regaining her life and have her child ripped from it.

   I cannot imagine losing my child, no matter what age, and not being frantic and crazy to find him.  I have to wonder what the world is coming to when children are treated as possessions, not people, and God, why are some allowed to conceive when they are so incapable of taking care of themselves, let alone another human being?  You have to take a test to drive a car, you have to get a license to get married, but anyone, ANYONE, can have a baby!  And they are.  And there are people out there that try for years and years, and pay their life savings for fertility drugs or surrogates, or adoption fees, who might never have that baby.  These people are probably good people who for some reason or another just cannot conceive.  Yet, that high school dropout that smokes dope and takes pills can get knocked up by the guy that beats her and calls her filthy names in front of their children can have and keep the child they conceive because there’s food on the table and the house is neat.

   There should be a test.  An unrelated expert on parenting and children should come into the house and observe conditions before birth.  Maybe install hidden cameras.  That way people might forget about acting, and start being real.  Then, if they’re not mature enough or responsible enough to raise a child then it would be taken and given to parents who would raise it and love it and not treat it like a tax deduction or a meal ticket.  I know it’s extreme but so is the fact that children are being hurt and killed by the very people who are supposed to love and protect them. 

   It makes me so angry when I hear about a parent who has killed their kids.  And it breaks my heart and brings me to tears.  I think about that baby, that child, who never got a chance.  And people will say that it was God’s will, that she was born for a reason and she must have done what she was supposed to do, etc, etc., but I know this is because no one can make sense of something like killing a kid, and no one should because it shouldn’t make sense.  Ever. 

   So I am praying for Levon, and I’m praying for his mother and hoping that if this ends up badly that she will continue her recovery with him in mind, because if he were here he would deserve a mother who cared more for him than drugs.  I pray they find him alive, safe and sound.  I pray that this doesn’t tear his family apart but brings them closer, and I pray that this case gets resolved and closed, and that someone pays.

   I hope you get to go home Levon.  You’re in a lot of hearts right now, and we’re all praying that you are ok.

 

 

 

What Important Right Have Women Lost?

   Women’s rights.  Seriously, when I was younger I thought that this was a great idea.  Be equal to men, earn what they did, be independent and bring home the bacon.  You can do it all – raise a family, fix the car, volunteer, cook, clean, pay the bills – and for what?  My question now is, where did we go wrong?

   It seems to me that in the last 25 to 30 years our children have grown up alone, with no moral figures and no one to cling to when things get rough.  I say this in view of where I grew up, which is mainly rural.  When I was a kid it wasn’t the norm to have friends whose parents were divorced.  In fact, when my best friend told me her parents were getting one we were really worried that we might not be friends anymore.  I didn’t know anyone else whose biological parents weren’t together.  Using the term biological was usually reserved for adopted kids.  I was probably nine or ten before I found out my own dad had been divorced and that my older brother and sisters were really my half siblings.  I was told to keep it quiet, the whole neighborhood didn’t need to know.

   My mother worked.  I’m pretty sure she did part time work for a while and then full time when my dad had his heart attack.  I know she was home every day when I was a kid getting off the school bus.  We would walk in the door, drop our school bags on the floor, sit down and have snack and she would ask us how our day was.  Then we would run and change, do our chores, homework, eat dinner when dad got home, play and go to bed.  Dad would tuck us in and listen to our prayers.  Mom would get her tea and some quiet time with a book or a TV show.

   I look back now and I realize I had an idyllic childhood, not unlike something out of the Andy Griffith Show.  Our neighbors kept an eye on us when mom and dad might not be around, whether we knew it or not.  Someone called my mom when she saw me smoking in town when I was fifteen.  When I got home she was ready for me.  I still have no idea who told, but I knew someone was watching.

   We went to church as a family too.  I hated it, but every Sunday and church holiday, there we were.  Dad sang in the choir and he had an awesome voice.  I still love the church songs and I can still hear him in my mind singing them.  Mom always did the church groups and fund raisers.  They helped people and modeled the life they wanted us to live.

   My mom didn’t march on Washington.  She kept a good clean home, she made great meals from nothing, she read to us, fixed our hurts, monitored our television and our mouths, warned us of our actions and promptly punished us when warnings were ignored.  She taught us the lessons we needed to learn and gave us room to make mistakes.  She was there.

   It seems now, in this day and age, that we have the right to be everything except good mothers.  Sure there are some out there that get to stay home with their kids and live that life that a lot of us had, but there are a lot more that have to work to make ends meet.   There are a lot of single moms out there, by choice, that wanted it all and get home after a long day of school or work or both and just don’t get in the time that they want with their child(ren).  We’ve lost the right to raise our children in a two parent home, where one of us gets to stay home and take care of things on the “home front”.  The “home front” is now the “war zone” where we have to fight for time for dinner, for sports, for clubs, etc.  Our babysitter is the television with hundreds of channels or the internet with unlimited avenues or video games.  We had three TV stations – we were told to go outside and find something to do or something would be found for us.  We had to use our imagination. 

   Having our mom there gave us that.  She didn’t have to feel guilty about wanting to be there for us because she didn’t have to have it “all”.  What I don’t think she realized, and a lot of American women didn’t realize, was that they did have it all.  They had the best of it because they had a choice.  They could go out and work, or they could stay home.  There’s no choice now, not unless one is very wealthy or chooses to live very simply. 

   In my heart I believe the women’s rights movement did a lot for women.  We got the vote, we’ve passed some laws, we can get out and work in jobs traditionally held by men.  But socially, I feel it has broken down the family.  There was a reason women were nurturers and men were the providers.  There was a reason we held those roles. 

   I wish we could go back.  Just have a taste, see if the flavor is just as sweet as when I was growing up.  I know this piece has rambled, but I guess my point is this, by gaining all of these rights, women have lost the biggest right we had – to be a parent.  By losing our time to everything else we’ve lost that right and in doing so we are seeing a chain reaction in the loss of a cohesive society and a rise in violence.  Let’s give children back their two parent households with their moms at home.  I bet it makes a huge difference in twenty years time.