One at a time...

This has begun making the rounds on Facebook. It seems to me that it was going around last November, too, so I'm not sure this is current, but a cursory investigation indicates that this is truly Nordstrom's annual policy.  

 It's getting a lot of play (and is very popular.)  Here's my 2¢.

About 15 years ago, I was working near Union Square in San Francisco. (Nightmare job - but that's another story!) It was my birthday - October 3.  It was about 85º outside, a beautiful Indian Summer day.  I was amazed and appalled when, looking up at the huge Macy's facing the square, every single window was decorated with a Christmas wreath.  October third. 

Fast forward to about 5 years ago, same location in mid-October: no Xmas decor!  Why?

I think it's because they have found a way to cash in on Halloween.  It is a BIG money-maker for retailers now.  Not just candy and costumes - orange and purple lights! glittered pumpkins! enormous inflatable lawn decorations! life-sized zombies! bodies hanging from trees! (Yes, really, and right at the end of my block.  Very disturbing.)  Retailers have monetized Halloween.  Weird, but at least by having a profitable holiday between Labor Day and Christmas, we have been saved from sights like the above windows before it's time to put away the sleeveless shirts.  Now all that red and green stuff comes out on November 1, along side the 30% off (really, Target? not 50%?) Snickers and M&M's.

This new trend thrills me, actually.  I don't buy into elaborate Halloween decor - at most, I'll buy a couple of those cute little pumpkins.  If they're active in October, I am usually more invested in what is happening with the Giants.

So here's my idea on how to further push retailers' cashing in on Christmas back to Advent:  Let's monetize Thanksgiving!  Just think of it: Giant inflatable turkeys, cornucopias and pilgrims. Elaborate light shows in amber and orange. Strands of oversized faux colorful leaves streaming from car antennae.  Politically correct t-shirts commemorating Native Americans' oppression.  Books about gratitude written by Justin Beiber and the New Jersey housewives.

I won't buy into that, either.  (Well, okay, maybe a t-shirt.)  But if it catches on, maybe more retailers will follow Nordstrom's lead and save the joy of Christmastime for December.  Wouldn't it be nice to walk into a store decked out in Christmas decorations and think, "wow, how wonderful!" instead of "oh crap! already?!"

**None of the above images are mine.  Any copyright infringement is unintentional.  Please contact me if these images are yours, and I will remove them.

Thanksgivings

You know, for someone who is a fairly traditional person... for someone who was raised with something of an Norman Rockwell mentality... I have had some pretty odd Thanksgivings.
Back in the day when my kids were less independent (a.k.a. before they were grownups) we had what I called even and odd years. On the even years, we were all together: my kids, my folks, my siblings - everyone. It was great. It's always great when we are all together. I am/we are so blessed. And then there were the odd years. My kids were with their dad, my siblings were with their in-laws, and I was... mostly left to fend for myself. Those holidays were certainly odd. I've made some interesting choices.
There was the year that I was invited to spend Thanksgiving in Louisville. I got to spend quite a bit of time with T. and Marty, and meet T.'s family, which was great. And Louisville is beautiful. (My joke with T. is: I'd love to see it some time!) I had a nice solo ramble through a neighborhood cemetery. And I saw Churchill Downs from the airplane window. Mostly, I was indoors with a lot of cigarette smoke. But it was great. Also: a little weird.

There was another year, also with T. At the time he had a lot of friends in the Folsom (gay) leather crowd. We went to a woman's house in Dublin. Her name, I was told, was "Mama", and she takes in all the orphaned gay men and their friends for the holiday meal. I did a big number on my own head before I even got there. It was fairly ordinary holiday gathering. And it was quite a trip.
The most incredible holiday meal I have ever experienced was with my kids in Seattle. There was to be a gathering at J.'s friend's house, pot luck. We arrived on time, sweet potatoes in hand. Counting us, there were 6 people in the house. The TV was on, tuned to something bizarre (maybe that was just me), and everyone in the house was turned towards the tube. There was no table. All attempts at conversation fell like a lead balloon. It was the longest two and a half hours I have ever spent. Ever.
This year was a bit odd, but pales in comparison to anything mentioned above. I was sick with a cold, so I spent the day all alone. I just couldn't risk infecting anyone - especially Dad - with my cooties. And ya know, it was fine. I slept in, snacked a little, talked to my son, my daughter and T. on the phone, made a little thanksgiving photo album on facebook, watched a lot of TV (mostly The Waltons), baked a pumpkin pie without a crust. And when the day was over, my mom dropped off a huge tray of leftovers from the family dinner.
So blessed, am I!

Breath of Heaven

(hearing from Joseph, we now hear from Mary's story)

I have traveled many moonless nights. Cold and weary with a babe inside. And I wonder what I've done. Holy father, you have come and chosen me now to carry your son.

I am waiting in a silent prayer. I am frightened by the load I bear. In a world as cold as stone, must I walk this path alone? Be with me now. Be with me now...

Breath of heaven: hold me together, be forever near me, Breath of heaven! Breath of heaven, lighten my darkness, pour over me your holiness. For you are holy, Breath of heaven.

Do you wonder as you watch my face, if a wiser one should have had my place? But I offer all I am for the mercy of your plan. Help me be strong... help me be... help me....

Breath of heaven: hold me together, be forever near me, Breath of heaven! Breath of heaven, lighten my darkness, pour over me your holiness. For you are holy, Breath of heaven.

This song has been a part of my Christmas for many, many years. After singing it this Advent with my little church choir, however, it will never be the same. I will now always hear Ms. Laura Grace singing in slightly anxious, dulcet maiden tones the (well-imagined) words of Mary, and the angelic choir in response. I will remember the tears and the love that were evident in response on that December Sunday morning. I will remember the look of fierce pride and love on Laura's father's face, and the calming reassurance on her mother's.

I will remember the realization that Mary's pleas - hold me together, be near me, lighten my darkness - are supplications that I have made in the past, perhaps we all have, and that my friend Sue, who sang right beside me that morning, now makes on a daily basis. And I remember that those who cry out to God - we are the lucky, the blessed ones. For we believe that there is One who hears our pleas. Breath of Heaven.

Joseph's Song

words and music by Michael Card

How could it be? This baby in my arms sleeping now so peacefully - the son of God, the Angel said - how could it be?

Lord, I know he's not my own. Not of my flesh, not of my bone. Still, Father, let this baby be the son of my love.

Father, show me where I fit into this plan of yours. How can a man be father to the son of God? Lord, for all my life, I've been a simple carpenter. How can I raise a king?

How can I raise a king?

He looks so small, his face and hands, so fair. And when he cries the sun just seems to disappear. But when he laughs it shines again. How could it be?

Father, show me where I fit into this plan of yours. How can a man be father to the son of God? Lord, for all my life, I've been a simple carpenter. How can I raise a king? How can I raise a king?

How could it be? This baby in my arms sleeping now so peacefully - the son of God, the Angel said - how could it be?

How could it be?

Auld Lang Syne

sure, it's a long clip. but classics are totally worth it, right?

Should old acquaintance be forgot,and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,and days of old lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne
we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun 'til dine;
But seas between us broad have roar'd since auld lang syne (v.4)

And there’s a hand my trusty friend ! And give us a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught, for auld lang syne. (v.5)

So this is the song we sing, in the wee hours of this day. It is foreign, it is tossed off without a thought. We don't even know what it really means. Well... not so fast. According to Wikipedia (the inerrable source quoted above), Sally was right, it really is about old friends: "The song begins by posing a rhetorical question as to whether it is right that old times be forgotten, and is generally interpreted as a call to remember long-standing friendships.

I am as likely as anyone to get mushy around the holidays, especially about old friends. If I were to do a call-out here, the list would be long, not terribly interesting (after you'd read the names you already know) and likely - inadvertently - incomplete.

I simply know that I am inordinately blessed by good and even excellent friendships, and have been for most of my life. I cannot imagine the poverty of being without loved ones. Heck, I got sick the other day, and five people offered to bring me groceries. Well-stocked cupboards aside, that is some wildly generous stuff. What rare, rich and fortunate beings we are, to be so blessed as to live in a community of caring fellow humans! To be connected, one to the other, by love and by friendship. Words hardly do justice, and cannot truly express my joy in you, dear friend. As I grow older and, hopefully, wiser, I pray that I take my friends less for granted and give thanks for the extraordinary human bounty they represent!

Happy 8th day of Christmas to you all!

a Charlie Brown Christmas

While not actually a Christmas carol, the music to Charles Schultz' 1965 television special is iconic to anyone who grew up in that era or any subsequent generation. Vince Guaraldi's score is perfect, and any cut from it - even the "non-Christmasy" music - instantly conjures up Christmas for me.

Capturing the Christmas Spirit can be tricky. Charlie & Co. are masterful at portraying this without being sticky or maudlin. The message of the show, of course, cannot be missed. We are celebrating much more than tinsel and lights in this season!

Here's "Christmas Time is Here" from the opening credits.


Today's the seventh day of Christmas!

Mary had a baby

I have had the honor and privilege of singing wonderful music with wonderful people. My first real choral experience was in high school, when the first thing I recall singing on stage was Handel's Messiah. We sang nearly the entire work, the Christmas and Easter portions, and I sang my first (and last) public solos in the recitative Then Shall the Eyes of the Blind be Opened (prophetic, no?) and the alto part of He Shall Feed His Flock. Overlapping my high school experience was Skyline College Choir, under the direction of the extremely talented Dr. Patricia Hennings (a.k.a. "Cap'n Pat").

Those two musical experiences literally formed and colored the rest of my life. Aside from my blood relatives, there is not a single friendship or relationship I have made since that cannot be traced back to those choirs. And that includes my children!

Out of the Skyline choir came the Schleptet. Later given the more acceptable name, "Acapellicans", we were friends who sang well together. No fewer than eight - often ten or twelve - we were never sure how many would be together, hence the "schlep" in our -tet. My singing talent, I think, is based mostly on the ability to surround myself with others who sing well. The raw talent in this group was utterly divine, with many who had natural voices that vocal pros would give their right tonsil to have. This was especially true of Carolyn and Linda, our sopranos.

One night after being out Christmas caroling in the frigid damp, we were feeling particularly - ambitious? high on our collective talent? nostalgic? Something like that. We'd been wanting to record our Christmas music, had not done so, and time was running out. So Bill got out the microphones and recording equipment, and we gave it a go. With the sopranos almost completely out of voice, we could have just one take per song, and we filled up a cassette tape with beautiful music - and priceless memories.

One of my favorite cuts from that evening is "Mary Had a Baby". Despite her protestations and facial contortions, Linda nailed the solo. Of course, all I have is an old cassette tape from 1985. So the version below will have to do. But I tell you true, in all modesty, we sounded better than the youngsters here. We were divine.

the Cradle Song

Be near me Lord Jesus
I ask thee to stay close by me forever,
and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children
in thy tender care,
and fit us for heaven to live with thee there.

It's enough to break your heart, isn't it? Those words, that song, that tune... It is achingly tender and oh, so beautiful. Of course, I am in a fairly tender spot right now, but it brought tears to me this morning in worship. Something about being rocked gently and loved tenderly... something about the inclusivity of all the dear children... something about living our lives in a way that is fitting for the One who loves us so dearly... All that sentiment in just three or four breaths? Impossibly sweet.

Yesterday was Christmas Day. (Today, of course, is the second day of Christmas, and we still have ten more to go!) All the dear children were under one roof for my family yesterday: my parents, their five children, all seven grandchildren and the single great-grandchild. With spouses and friends, there were twenty-one of us. We had a rollicking good time, yes we did. We ate well, laughed and kidded each other, caught up on each other's news. We tried a white elephant gift exchange for the first time, and that was just too fun. I looked over at one point (I think it may have been when nephew KMQ opened a gift that consisted of 2 packs of staples and a chipped dental mold of his father's teeth) and Dad was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Overjoyed was the sentiment of the evening!

There was the joy of simply being together, of course. (I am not the only one of my family who subconsciously counts heads - and if someone is missing, the joy is diminished ever-so-slightly.) But there was more to it than that. We all know that it could be the last time for us all to be together for Christmas, which adds both a sting and a richness to the experience. The way that we were able to achieve it is bittersweet as well. For the first time in my recollection, Dad put out an edict: his only gift was to be that we would all be together. It goes without saying that this is what he always wants of us, for any holiday. But it has never been decreed... until this year.

Which brings us to the logistics of getting everyone there. This is not a difficult request for most of us. However, my middle brother DQ, who lives the farthest from us, has a very hard time traveling these days. He is too ill to get himself to us, and often too ill to travel at all. Because of this, he has missed a wedding, and most birthdays and holidays in the past few years. Knowing this, my son took it upon himself to get my brother to Christmas. A. called DQ and arranged ahead of time (though he was not going to take no for an answer!) He left right after breakfast and drove the 90 miles to pick up DQ, brought him to us... and when the festivities were winding down, did the whole thing again in reverse. Spending about 8 hours on the road. Mostly in a driving rainstorm. The night before he had an early flight out to Anchorage.

So this is the other part of what breaks my heart with tender joy. That my dear son has grown to be a man with such a generous heart. That my feeble brother was willing to risk his pride in letting him do so, as well as in revealing to us how feeble he has become. That my father risked his own pride by asking us all to give him his heart's desire. And that we all managed to gather in joy and love. We acknowledged what is before us but did not allow it to diminish us in any way ~ and in fact, our collective circumstance has enriched us beyond imagination.

Thanks be to God for these tender blessings!

a valentines day memory

(candy photos courtesy of Google images)

This happened one February 14th, some time in the early 70's when my younger brother and I were still living at home. It was the weekend. Mom was doing housework (I might have been helping her), Dad was working in the garage with Charlie.

Dad has always had a thing for Necco wafers, and so there are always (Necco's) conversation hearts around for Valentine's Day. Mom sent a few downstairs to Dad. He sent one back, saying something like "my way". She sent one back to him, something like "wise up".
They went back and forth for a few rounds, actually having an argument with those little candies! Gradually, though, the comments softened to "sweetheart" and "kiss me". I seem to remember a big smooch (ew!) when Dad finally came upstairs to wash up.
Another year (or maybe it was the same year?) Mom really wanted new bricks for a project in the backyard. Dad bought them, brought them home on Valentine's day, and did this, which could be seen from their bedroom window:
And that's how you stay married for 60+ years.

emptying the ol' emailbox

A friend sent this to me around this time last year; I think I was too wrapped up in my personal loss at the time to appreciate it thoroughly, nor to share it (as it should be shared). So, a year late and a dollar short, I hope you enjoy it as much as I have:

The Turning Seasons

The pendulum swings, and swings back.
Every action has its equal and opposite reaction.
So we are born, and eventually we die.
We plant seeds in the spring, and rip out roots in the fall.
Killing and healing tread on each other's heels.
Buildings go up, and get torn down;
new buildings emerge from the ruins of the old.
The Phoenix rises from its own ashes.
You lose someone you love;
you bounce like a ping-pong ball
between tears and hysterical laughter.
If despair were forever, you couldn't carry on,
but you carry on because you know
despair will someday be displaced by dancing again.
You can't make love all the time;
sooner or later, you have to become friends.
You misplace your house keys; you find them.
You forget someone's name;
it comes back to you in the middle of the night.
You lose a job, and a new career opens up.
You spend the first half of your life gaining possessions,
and the second half giving them away.
The animated conversations of young lovers mature
into the comfortable silences of long familiarity.
Why should we expect a single state of mind,
a single snapshot of experience, to last indefinitely?
Does a pendulum stop at the end of its swing?
So war and peace, love and hate,
togetherness and aloneness,
inevitably cycle and recycle.
This is how God teaches us.
Life is full of resurrections.

(by Jim Taylor)

all the best to you and yours in 2010!

an Advent opportunity

It is an interesting thing to balance, this time between now and the end of the year. On one hand, there's Christmas. Joyful red and green celebrations, twinkling lights, peppermint and jingle bells; elegant, raucous, beautiful, silly music; pine boughs, wet streets and secretive errands to bustling stores ~ I love it all. On the other hand, there is Advent. Candlelight, reverence and preparation for the Child who was born to die for us all; solemn hymns, passionate purple, the spirit of discovery, wonder and unworthiness of it all ~ this, I also love.

In recent years, I have been so very concerned with keeping Advent, that I lost Christmas. I became such an Advent pharisee that the season became lost. A short excerpt from last December's blog:

I count myself among a small minority who prefers to honor Advent - in church, at least - by not rushing Christmas before it's time for that baby to be born. ...without Advent, how can one enjoy Christmas? I don't know. I just feel as if, by insisting on putting Advent first before Christmas in my personal celebration, in these past few years I've missed both and end up somewhat empty-handed and empty-hearted when Christmas comes around.

I'm not one to get caught up in the hype - in fact, I will run in the other direction if I see hype creeping in - so gross consumerism is not the issue here. A change of heart is in order, and shan't be too difficult. After all, I've been a Christmas Keeper from way back. I love this stuff, and I'm going to let myself have it!

Tonight I read a wonderful sermon by a Unitarian minister who goes by the name of Peace Bang in the blogosphere. She makes excellent points about what she calls the confusion of the season, and recommends we treat Advent/Christmas like the thanksgiving feast: "I think that if you want a juicy holiday season, you must rest like the turkey. A half an hour every day." A daily dose of Advent-Sabbath, if you will. So that is what I am going to do.

Starting tomorrow, December first, I am going to do one thing each day to celebrate and prepare for Christmas. It might be something big, it will probably be something small - but it will be my own personal Advent task: to find joy in this balance of preparation and celebration.

Veteran's Day

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly.
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

~ World War I Colonel John McCrae, a surgeon with Canada's First Brigade Artillery

Autumn commences

(Ah, it's been too long again. My life and mind has been in just get through it mode. Again. Overhwelming... and astoundingly mundane at the same time, how is that possible?)

please click for larger picture

Meantime, the season has turned again. It is Autumn. My favorite time of year, really, and I wish it was longer... or perhaps I wish that we could languish in the season for a longer period. Here in paradise, we have only about 3 weeks between Indian Summer and Let's Get Ready For The Holidays. I sometimes wish we celebrated Christmas in February, at the real* mid of Winter. Heresy, I know. But to relish the crunch of the leaves, firesmoke, thick sweaters and picnic blankets for a little longer before the holly jolly pushes in and breaks the delicious, amber-lit, pumpkin-and-spice season would be heaven. Ah, well. I will enjoy it while I can!

please click for larger picture

I am going exploring today, with my camera. Maybe I'll find some quiet - jackhammers are my background noise just now, while the pool is being refurbished. 'Tis time for reflection, a walk, a change in scenery.

Will try to be back, soonest.

Much love, KQ

*Autumn's end, for those who do not keep track of the solstices and equinoxes, is December 20. Winter then commences and stays until March 19.

memorial day

In honor of all who've fallen in service to the beloved country...

...they are legion. may they be at peace. may we, someday, learn how to wage peace.