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Category: holidays

Are We There Yet?

Are We There Yet?

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A month ago was too early, though I’ll admit I sneaked an aural peak and listened to the last two choruses. But a few nights ago, I started from the beginning. It was November. I’d waited long enough. It was time for The Messiah.

Let others drag out their Christmas decorations a week after Halloween, let retailers stock the shelves with tinsel and ornaments and candy canes. If I’m going to rush the season, it will be for only one reason: to hear Handel’s great oratorio.

The piece is always just a playlist away on my little iPod. It’s all I can do to keep myself from listening to it all year long. But civilization has its constraints, and so I hold myself back. One can’t play a piece every single day and still love it (the scores of LaLa Land and Les Miserables being prime examples). I want more than that for The Messiah.

And so, I waited. I didn’t listen in April, and I didn’t listen in July. To my own persistent, “Are we there yet?” I said, “Not quite — but soon.” But finally I could wait no more. And so, on November 6, almost a month before Advent, I pushed play.

And there were the familiar pulsing strings, the pause, and then … the tenor: “Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people.” I felt the weight of 11 months roll off my shoulders, the cares and troubles of other seasons. They’re all behind me now. It’s time for The Messiah.

Self and Silliness

Self and Silliness

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Halloween has snuck up on me this year. Being out of town for a few days, being busy … But here we are on the day, little ghosts and goblins getting geared up for their big nights on the town.

I’m thinking about some of the girls’ best childhood costumes, which were made by their grandmother: a colorful clown, cuddly lion, tusked elephant and a seal made out of some sort of naugahyde fabric that I can’t even imagine cutting, let alone sewing.

Then came the in-between years, when make-up replaced masks. One year Suzanne went as some sort of a sprite or spirit with greenish skin and lots of eye shadow.

On Halloween we can pretend to be something we are not. But that was often the case when raising young children. I might be called on to cackle like a witch or moo like a cow at any time. The line between self and silliness was thin to nonexistent.

Now I’m myself all the time. As the girls would say … borrrrring.

Wild Blue Yonder

Wild Blue Yonder

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Turned on my iPod the day before yesterday and took pot luck. The song that was playing: “Off We Go Into the Wild Blue Yonder,” the Air Force song. I downloaded it for Dad’s funeral and it lives on in my music files.

Hearing it by surprise didn’t make me sad. It made me smile. It was as if Dad had suddenly inserted himself into the day and was walking with me along the West Virginia lane.  I set the iPod on repeat and listened to it four or five times. It’s an upbeat song, and it quickened my step.

I’ve been hearing the melody in my head ever since. But the only words I can recall are the first and last lines. Here, in honor of Memorial Day, are the rest:

Off we go into the wild blue yonder,
Climbing high into the sun;
Here they come zooming to meet our thunder, 
At ’em boys, Give ‘er the gun! (Give ‘er the gun now!) 
Down we dive, spouting our flame from under,
Off with one helluva roar! 
We live in fame or go down in flame. Hey! 
Nothing’ll stop the U.S. Air Force!

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter!

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The trees are at their loveliest. “Nature’s first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold.” The azaleas shine out in their jewel tones, and there are buds on the rose bush by the deck stairs.


The refrigerator is stuffed with au gratin potatoes, deviled eggs, ambrosia salad, baked turkey — and asparagus and lamb that will be roasted today. Behind me, the smell of chocolate wafts from filled Easter baskets.

Soon it will be time to navigate the parking lot at church in hopes of scoring a seat at the 9:15 mass, to hear the words of that old story that is sometimes hard to believe but today seems completely possible. Soon it will be time to greet the family and friends coming here for an afternoon feast. 
But for now, for these quiet early moments, I have Easter all to myself.

(Mission San Xavier del Bac, Tucson, Arizona, built in 1797)
Dispensation

Dispensation

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This year the Bishop of Arlington has granted the diocese a dispensation from the usual Lenten Friday abstinence from meat so that Irish Catholics can enjoy their corned beef. There’s a slight catch. You’re supposed to undertake a work of charity or act of comparable penance some other time to make up for it.

Fair enough. But it’s one of those cringe-worthy Catholic moments. Will we really be judged on such details? Yes, obedience is important, but what about the spirit of the law?

I think I’ll forego meat just for the heck of it. But the Bailey’s — I’ll have a sip of that, thank you very much!

(Photo: allrecipes.com)

Trees’ Company

Trees’ Company

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I recall a line from a poem by James Clarence Harvey: “Oh, the saddest of sights in this world of sin/Is a little lost pup with his tail tucked in.”

Not that my heart wouldn’t melt at the sight of a little lost pup, but a sad sight all too common this time of year are Christmas trees beside the road. There they are, the once-proud bearers of bright lights and family ornaments — now reduced to so much yard waste.
These two have the right idea, though. A stiff northwest wind rolled them together the other day, and now they’re partners in crime/shame/escape. May they live forever in mulch heaven. 
Around the Corner

Around the Corner

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Last year’s Epiphany I came across a bevy of colorful scarves draped on trees and banisters and railings. It was a “scarf bombing,” part of an organized effort to help those who have no way to come in from the cold.

It was, I thought, the perfect expression of the day, a moment of revelation in wool and worsted.

Today, nothing so epiphanous. Today, a typical work-at-home day, the views and contours familiar and unsurprising.

By definition, though, sudden revelations can happen at any time. So while I may not be cleansed by clarity now, I may be later today or tomorrow or sometime next week.

In other words, I’m trying to live as if inspiration is just around the corner.

Into the Future

Into the Future

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Yes, we counted down the seconds last night. A room full of people with noisemakers and champagne and funny hats.  Out with the old and in with the new.

But for me, 2017 started with this winter morning, with the run I just took along familiar routes, waves to neighbors, music and talking in my ear.

And it started even earlier, with a cup of tea and my journal, reading last year’s entries, pondering resolutions, writing my way into the future.

Fast Away

Fast Away

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It’s only a matter of hours now for 2016, this crazy leap year with so many changes (new job and wedding; show-stopping election) that we needed an extra day to pack ’em in.

One thing about years now: They pass so quickly that it almost seems pointless to make a big fuss over their arrivals and departures.

But still, a year change is a moment, and so I will mark it now in this quiet living room with the tree still in full holiday regalia, books and journal by my side, three loads of laundry, a tidied freezer and vacuumed floor under my belt. The price I pay for writing time, a price I may have to stop paying if I’m ever to write more than these blog posts. And if there’s a hint of a resolution in there, so much the better!

Fast away the old year passes … whether marked by sundial or computer clock … it passes …

Holiday House

Holiday House

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Yesterday I met my brother for lunch at the local mega-mall. It was wonderful to see him — but I made quick work of the venue, got in and out as quickly as I could. More shopping? I don’t think so.

Instead,  I made my way quickly back here, where I could bounce on the trampoline and do a little yard work in the suddenly 60-degree temps. As the day darkened, I came inside to bask in the tree and the bowl of red glass apples that catch the light and transform it.

These holiday sights soothe the soul; the holiday occupations do, too. I spent a couple of hours last night turning the last of the cookie dough into crispy, sugared wreaths, bells and angels.

It’s all part of the holiday house. I want to keep it here as long as possible.