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Category: holidays

Grandparents Day

Grandparents Day

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For the most part, I consider Grandparents’ Day, which happened yesterday, to be a Hallmark holiday, something ginned up only for consumption value — cards, flowers, brunches out. 

But my Grandparent’s Day was the real thing. It started the night before, when the four of ours who were sleeping over (thankfully, with their mothers) were running crazily through the house, doing headers off the coffee table, brandishing suction-cup arrows, and regaling us on the latest “Frozen” characters. 

It included a laugh fest so long and so thorough that it reduced all of us to tears, and it continued with a sweet (and yes, early) morning, waking up to the sounds of little voices in the house. 

In the four years since I’ve been a grandparent, I’ve marveled at how these kiddos change our perspective, test our resilience (how long can I pretend to be a mean tiger while crawling around on the trampoline?) and expand our imaginations. Most of all, my grandchildren remind me of youth, when all seemed possible. Because, for them, all still is. 

An Appetizer

An Appetizer

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You’d think I would know what it was, but when I heard the pop last night in the car, my first thought was that it was coming from the radio. 

Instead, it was coming from the fireworks that were exploding off to my left, filling the night sky with light as I drove north toward home. 

I could only catch glimpses of the display, but they were a perfect appetizer for tonight’s full-course meal.

In with the New

In with the New

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The first day of a new year, this one with 366 days. A bonus day for a bonus year. The bonus day is because we have a Leap Year, but the bonus year? 

The idea is this: If I think of it as a bonus, I’ll appreciate it more. I’m not ancient, but I’m old enough that this idea resonates. Even if I wasn’t, the bonus concept makes sense. 

I’m just finishing The Book of Joy, a compilation of interviews between the Dalai Lama and the late Archbishop Desmond Tutu. One of the recommended “joy practices” is to make time each morning to set an intention for the day. 

Today’s intention is to appreciate this new year as it’s dawning, and to live this new year as if it is a gift. Because it is.  

Out with the Old

Out with the Old

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Like many folks during these waning days of 2023, I’ve spent a few hours getting rid of stuff I’ve accumulated this year and many other years (emphasis on the latter). In particular, I zeroed in on an area of the basement where I’ve stored — dumped might be a better word — the girls’ dolls and toys. The girls who are grown up and raising children of their own. 

Obviously, this is a task I’ve postponed for years. And no wonder. It’s a bittersweet duty indeed. Here were favorite toys I’d long since forgotten — stuffed rabbits, a dancing mouse, an acrobatic lamb on a stick, a jack-in-the-box. Here too were boxes of school work, mostly middle school and high school, so not that precious early stuff, but still a potential minefield. 

I’ll admit the tears flowed as I sorted through these treasures. They were good tears, necessary tears. I was mourning a time of my life that is no more. Like any other loss, it’s better to acknowledge it, to kiss it and let it go. As I write these words, I can hear the garbage truck stopping in front of the house. Now all of those relics … are truly gone. 

(An old photo of a messy garage that I trot out when I need evidence of Too Much Stuff.)

Sunrise, Sunset

Sunrise, Sunset

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It was unseasonably warm yesterday, although the last couple of winters have been mild enough that the term “unseasonably warm” may soon require some tinkering. I took two walks, one as the sun was rising and the other as it was setting. 

I only realized this morning the symmetry of these strolls. The first one I timed with sunrise. The classical station I listen to announces sunrise every day with a little fanfare and a specially chosen piece of music. Yesterday’s was a recorder rendition of “The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba” from Handel’s “Solomon.” 

The later ramble was not planned for sunset. But the sun sets so early these days that it’s easy to postpone a stroll until the day is almost done. Based on the number of people we saw on the trail, I’d have to say I wasn’t the only one to whom that happens.

Sunrise, sunset. Much like yesterday’s Arrivals and Departures. It’s yin and yang at the closing of the year. 

Arrivals and Departures

Arrivals and Departures

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A trip to the airport in predawn darkness, the only illumination (as we grew closer) the ominous glow of many tail lights. The departure lanes were so backed up that we scooted into Arrivals and found the way clear. All the passengers had to do was take the escalator one floor up to check their bags. 

I’ve been thinking since then about arrivals and departures, how closely they are bound. In our case, this morning, inseparably. But they are always linked: coming and going, giving and taking, opening and closing. 

It’s not quite as simple as “what goes up must come down,” but for every joyous embrace of welcome at the airport, there is the bittersweet hug at the end of the visit, dear ones flying back across the country. I’ll be counting the days until they return and I can head to Arrivals again — this time, for real.

Boxing Day

Boxing Day

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In England and other parts of the Commonwealth, December 26th is Boxing Day. Here there was a little party in honor of our British son-in-law and our youngest daughter, who celebrate a wedding anniversary this time of year. 

But even without that excuse, I’m all for feting December 26th. And December 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th and 31st, too. In my book, it’s Christmas all week long. 

It cuts against the grain in this country, I know, with many folks returning to work only hours after the last gifts are opened. But in other parts of the world, Boxing Day — or St. Stephen’s Day — is the second day of Christmas, part of a longer celebration that gives people a chance to take a breath after the busyness of the season. 

And taking a breath is just what I’m doing today. That and very little else. 

Christmas Greetings

Christmas Greetings

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Once again the days have passed, the splendid ones and the trying ones. Once again we’ve come back to this point, which is for me, and for many, the great pause. Christmas Eve. Christmas Day. Soon to be followed by New Year’s Day and the delicious week in between. Once again I’ll re-run this blog post, one I wrote in 2011. Merry Christmas!

12/24/11

Our old house has seen better days. The siding is dented, the walkway is cracked, the yard is muddy and tracked with Copper’s paw prints. Inside is one of the fullest and most aromatic trees we’ve ever chopped down. Cards line the mantel, the fridge is so full it takes ten minutes to find the cream cheese. Which is to say we are as ready as we will ever be. The family is gathering. I need to make one more trip to the grocery store.

This morning I thought about a scene from one of my favorite Christmas movies, one I hope we’ll have time to watch in the next few days. In “It’s a Wonderful Life,” Jimmy Stewart has just learned he faces bank fraud and prison, and as he comes home beside himself with worry, he grabs the knob of the banister in his old house — and it comes off in his hand. He is exasperated at this; it seems to represent his failures and shortcomings.

By the end of the movie, after he’s been visited by an angel, after his family and friends have rallied around him in an unprecedented way, after he’s had a chance to see what the world would have been like without him — he grabs the banister knob again. And once again, it comes off in his hand. But this time, he kisses it. The house is still cold and drafty and in need of repair. But it has been sanctified by friendship and love and solidarity.

Christmas doesn’t take away our problems. But it counters them with joy. It reminds us to appreciate the humble, familiar things that surround us every day, and to draw strength from the people we love. And surely there is a bit of the miraculous in that.

Photo: Flow TV

Anticipation

Anticipation

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The presents are wrapped and tucked under the tree. The refrigerator is stocked, and the mantel is filling with cards. The Seattle branch of the family arrives today, and the Kentucky branch tomorrow. If I could ask for anything right now it would be for a super-duper slow-down-time machine — because I know the next few days will vanish in a blur.

Since I’m pretty sure such a device will not magically materialize, I’m doing the next best thing: savoring the moments, anticipating what’s to come.  

I’m contemplating the tree, not the biggest we’ve ever had but not the smallest, either. And the gifts themselves, small tokens of the great love I feel for the people receiving them. How good we have a season devoted to giving. For me it underlines this basic fact: that joy is not ours to hold — but to spread around and give away. 

Stand Up

Stand Up

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We were more than two-thirds of the way through the program last night when the orchestra struck up the familiar prelude. It was the Hallelujah Chorus of Handel’s Messiah; time to stand up.

The tradition of standing during this song began, so it’s said, when King George II was so moved that he rose to his feet during the London premiere, and the rest of the audience followed suit. 

Last night’s hall was almost filled and the conductor encouraged us to sing along, too, a challenge only a few of us were brave enough to accept. Still, it was impressive to see hundreds of people on their feet as the chorus belted out the familiar words: 

“King of Kings, forever and ever. And Lord of Lords, hallelujah, hallelujah. And he shall reign for ever and ever. … Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!”