White(out) Christmas

Dateline December 25, 2009 --  Christmas Eve blizzard hits Midwest; thousands of holiday travelers are stranded as airports close and hazardous driving conditions cause numerous accidents.  Authorities advise everyone to stay indoors -- don't go out unless you absolutely have to . . .

     Well, last night Steve absolutely had to go out.  He had been hired to play an 11 pm Christmas Eve service.  Amazingly, while other churches were canceling their evening services, this one went ahead as scheduled.  Snow was already piling up on top of ice from the sleet earlier in the day, making it slow going as Steve headed out the door around 9:30.  He called to let me know he arrived.  When he called about two hours later to say that he was heading home, the weather had become much worse.  Greg and I could hear the wind howling and whipping drifts of snow against the house.  We noticed that deep drifts had formed in front of the front door and the garage.  Around 1:30 am he arrived home, having driven through whiteout conditions, zero visability . . . and then having to dig out those 3-ft. snow drifts in front of the garage to back the car in.

     Oh, the things we do for money.  Or love.  Or maybe a little of both.  On the surface, it seems impractical if not downright foolhardy to go out in a blizzard to play in the orchestra for a Christmas Eve service.  It seems even more foolish to go out in a blizzard to attend one.  According to Steve, this one was not well attended; no surprise there.  But it was attended.  A few hardy souls braved the snowstorm to attend the late service at their church on Christmas Eve.  It may have been another gig to Steve, but I'm sure those who came to the 11 pm service very much appreciated all the musicians who made the effort to be there, too.

     This afternoon we made another trek in the snow to attend our traditional Christmas Day dinner with my husband's family.  We slid out our driveway and nearly got the car stuck in the unplowed street in front of our house.  We made it up the street and onto clearer roads.  Some snow was still falling, as was the wind chill; yes, it would have been easier (some might say wiser) to have canceled out and just stayed home. 

     When we arrived at my in-laws' house, we decided the best place to park (so we wouldn't get stuck on their unplowed street) was around back.  This meant hiking through at least 4-5 inches of uncharted snow in the yard and then making our way up the as-yet-unshoveled flight of stairs to the door of the back porch.  A minor inconvenience.  Because, once inside, we were very pleased to see not only our immediate family members but also David, life partner to Steve's cousin Larry.

     You see, yesterday morning, Christmas Eve, Larry lost his battle with cancer.  David has been a member of the family for many years; he took care of Larry all through his illness and was with him when he passed away.  As David said, it seemed strange to be at the Smiths' for Christmas without Larry.  The two of them had been a fixture at our Christmas celebrations for years.  We hadn't really expected to see him today, but we're very glad we did.  Next week we will have a memorial service to attend.  It will probably occur mid-week, about the same time the next snow storm is due to arrive.  The highway patrol, meteorologists, and other authorities will issue the same warning:  Don't go out unless you absolutely have to.   Sometimes, we absolutely have to -- we need the paycheck, we need affirmation, we need the comfort of our family and friends. 

     Wherever you are, I hope you are enjoying a warm and happy holiday (inside, preferably near a fire; or, like my sister's family, maybe you're enjoying your holiday in a warm place like Florida).  If you absolutely have to go out, be safe.  And know that somebody appreciates you being there.

Peace,

Emily

    

Winter Solstice

     At 12:47 pm today, December 21, 2009, winter officially arrived in the Northern Hemisphere.  We refer to this event as the Winter Solstice -- the shortest day of the year, when the North Pole is tilted away from the sun at its steepest angle (an average of 23.5 degrees).  This phenomenon is also what drives the seasons as the Earth revolves around the sun.  Of course, if you live in the Southern Hemisphere, say in Australia, today marks the beginning of Summer; it's the longest day of the year.  Here in the North, we won't experience our longest day until the tilt of the Earth's axis swings back to its closest point to the sun -- some time around June 21, 2010. The word "solstice" is derived from the Latin phrase for "sun stands still."  The phrase refers to the illusion that the sun's arc through the sky appears to stabilize (after growing lower and shorter since the summer solstice); thus, the sun seems to rise and set in the same two points for several days just before the solstice.  After the winter solstice, the arc will grow higher and longer until a similar effect occurs at the summer solstice.

     I present all these facts about the winter solstice to make the point that this is a natural phenomenon that has been occurring since the dawn of time -- long before humans ever appeared on the earth -- and will continue to occur until the sun burns out (most likely long after humans are gone from the earth).  The solstice has nothing to do with religion, although people from ancient times forward have observed it and ascribed varying depths of meaning to it. 

     The Roman Feast of Saturnalia was a weeklong feast honoring the god Saturn and included an observance of the solstice.  Germanic peoples of Northern Europe celebrated the winter solstice with Yule festivals -- hence the origins of the long-burning "yule log."  Scholars don't know the exact date of the birth of Jesus Christ (and, therefore, the birth of Christianity).  Early Christian calendars were centered around Easter, not Christmas.  But, over time, Christmas celebrations became mingled with pagan winter solstice observances.  As pagan peoples were converted to Christianity, the date of the winter solstice celebration "became available," and December 25th became the default date for the celebration of the birth of Christ.

     It is worth noting that cultures around the world observe the solstices in many different ways, regardless of the prevailing religion.  It seems to me that, in the rush of the predominantly Christian observance of the season in this country, we tend to lose sight of the wonder of nature that is unfolding before our eyes.  Earlier this evening I happened to be out shopping (yes, "Christmas shopping," if you must know).  Around 4:50 pm I pulled into a parking spot.  My car was facing west; for a few minutes I sat in the car and watched the sun sink lower and lower to the horizon.  It was a beautiful sunset on this, the first day of winter.  I felt a little sad at the passing of the light, knowing that the warm autumnal glow of the sunlight over the last few months will be replaced tomorrow by a decidedly different intensity.  After all, the earth's axis has tilted back toward the sun.  The days are getting longer now, although it will be a long time before the temperature catches up.  

     Six weeks from now, I'll be tired of winter and ready for the warmth of spring to arrive.  But for now, I'll welcome winter.  I like the change of the seasons.  And later this week, there's a strong possibility of snow -- just in time for Christmas.  Of course, in Australia, they're probably dreaming of a sunny, 80 degree Christmas. 

Christmas Whine is Here (With Apologies to Vince Guaraldi)

      At first it was just a notification that arrived in the mail.  Three weeks later we received another one.  Then they called and left a message to call back.  When we didn't return the call, they called again.  And again.  Steve actually answered that one.  The person on the line wanted to have a discussion with him over the phone, but he was on his way to a gig.  He promised to send the desired response in the next day's mail.  He forgot.  I forgot.  This week the phone calls started coming again, every day, two or three a day.  So who is harassing us?  Creditor?  Mortgage holder?  Collection agency?  Guido the Killer Pimp?  No, worse than any of the above . . . THE U.S. CENSUS BUREAU!  Dun-dun-DUNNNN!

     Yes, dear friends, we are one of the lucky families to be "chosen to participate" in the end-of-decade census-taking.  This is, of course, a great honor as well as our civic duty.  And in case that's not a good enough reason to participate, the outside of the mailer is printed with the following warning:  Your Response Is Required By Law.  Okay, okay.  Yes, I understand how important the census is, and yes, I want to be a good citizen and participate in this very, very important gathering of personal information -- including, but not restricted to: names, ages, addresses, employment, income, education (including degrees and specific majors), marital status, military service, and any disabilities of each and every person in the household.  The 28-page survey only provides enough space for five family  members . . . how do you suppose the Octo-Mom managed hers?   But does the U.S. Census Bureau have to send out the survey during the busiest time of the year?  Why couldn't they have sent us the questionnaire in August, when we had nothing else to do?

     The past few weeks have been jam-packed with rehearsals, performances, and all the "extra" stuff musicians end up doing during the holiday season, not to mention Christmas shopping, baking, writing Christmas cards, etc. -- who has time to fill out the #$%^&  Census???  But you know, phone calls can be persuasive, so last Wednesday night I sat down and filled out the survey;  I mailed it the next day.  Today we received one last call, and we assured the caller that the census was "in the mail."  Honest! Yes, really.  We wouldn't lie . . .
     Welcome to my annual "Christmas Whine."  Every year -- usually somewhere in the week before Christmas -- I get frustrated by all the seasonal obligations piled on top of my everyday obligations, and there's always something that pushes me over the edge and makes me want to scream.  This year, the census survey was that something.  So, now that the census has been dealt with, and I've blogged about it (my new way of screaming), I can relax and enjoy the rest of the holiday season.  Just as soon as I finish my shopping.  And baking.  Oh yeah -- and writing the annual Christmas newsletter . . . which goes in the Christmas cards I need to mail out some time before the end of the year . . . ARRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!   

    

Stay tuned . . .

    

Senior Moment No. 5: Zen and Thanksgiving Leftovers

Greg Smith, 4th grade (2001) -- beginning horn student.

     Steve had a gig last night, so dinner consisted of leftovers -- turkey, dressing, and mashed potatoes, to be exact.  Yes, nearly two weeks after Thanksgiving, we're still partaking of the traditional meal.  Ah, Thanksgiving -- the Energizer Bunny of holiday leftovers!  Long after the Halloween candy and Valentine's chocolates have either been consumed or thrown out, we will still have frozen turkey and all the trimmings taking up space in our downstairs freezer, conveniently divided into single-serving portions. 

     Some folks get tired of leftover turkey.  I don't.  December is always the busiest month of the year for musicians, leaving little time to sleep or even breathe, let alone cook.  We are, therefore, thankful for leftovers of any kind.  When others see Thanksgiving receding into the distance in their rear view mirrors, we still have the image in our side mirror (the one stamped with "Objects may be closer than they appear") or, at least, in our freezer.

     Lately I've begun to realize that it's not just the holidays sneaking up on me in the side mirror.  It's also my son's impending graduation.  I haven't visited this subject in awhile, mainly because, despite my best efforts to "keep it in perspective," I'm beginning to get a little emotional.  I really thought I would be cool about it.  I swear I will not be the basket-case mom wringing her hands and sobbing uncontrollably when her baby walks across the stage in May to accept his diploma.  That's just not me! 

     No, I've always been pretty much the "cool mom."  When Greg was little, and we left him with babysitters, we never made a big scene about leaving him.  We just hugged him, said, "We'll see you in a couple of hours -- have fun!" and off we went.  No tears, no drama, just kept it matter-of-fact.  As a result, we navigated the "separation anxiety" years very smoothly.  "Drama Queen Mom"?  Not me.

     Nor was I the "Helicopter Mom" -- hovering over my child, constantly badgering teachers, caregivers, and other parents with a barrage of questions and instructions.  "Make sure he eats a green vegetable, but not peas -- they give him hives; If you take him swimming, make sure he wears sunscreen, swim goggles, and a t-shirt when he's not in the pool -- by the way, will there be a lifeguard? -- Call me immediately in case of an emergency:  here's my cell number, his doctor's cell number, our insurance card, and a power-of-attorney."  Casting caution to the wind, I simply dropped him off, cheerfully told him to be good and have fun, and then waved goodbye.   Some might call me naive, but I always trusted other parents and relatives.  And you know what?  They never gave me a reason not to.

     Of course, "Cool Mom" is not to be confused with "Super Mom."  I never once volunteered to be Room Mother.  Cooking, sewing, and party planning are not my strong suits.  That exalted position was reserved for the stay-at-home moms whose culinary and sewing skills rivaled those of Martha Stewart.  I remember one mom who not only made her kids' Halloween costumes, but made her own patterns.  Each year was a different Disney movie theme:  Toy Story, The Little Mermaid, Aladdin . . . I had to wonder how she managed to purchase the copyrights.  Another mom made elaborate Halloween treats by painting "bones" on latex gloves and filling them with popcorn.  Why didn't I think of that? The best I could do was show up to the fall party with a store-bought jug of lemonade and a bag of ice.  Martha-Stewart-Super-Mom?  Not me.

     But I did find the coolest place --literally -- for Greg's 12th birthday party.  Jaegerz Lasertag and Paintball in the Hunt Midwest, Inc. caves (north of the Missouri River) was such a big hit, we went there two years in a row!  And I may not have been very creative with my contributions to the 4th Grade Hawaiian Party (a jug of Hawaiian Punch, what else?), but I sure made an impression when my Young Audiences group performed our "Music of the Battlefields" program for the upper grades at Greg's school.  "Cool Mom"?  You betcha.

     Flash forward to a few weeks ago when, as I was talking to a friend about Greg graduating, tears began to well up and my voice cracked.  So uncool!  But there it was -- my inner Superdramahover Mom breaking through.  I laughed at myself and told my friend, "This is ridiculous!  He's not even leaving home -- he's going to junior college!"  Yes, Cool Mom must confess -- her baby will still be living at home next year.

     But the dynamic will be different.  Don't tell me it won't; I know better.  Next Thanksgiving I'll be having my turkey dinner with my adult son.  That's why this year -- for the first time ever -- we did not have dinner with any extended family members.  We went out to dinner that day to a nice restaurant -- just the three of us.  Then we had the big family dinner on the Sunday after Thanksgiving . . . how else could we stock up on leftovers to get us through the month of December? 

     I expect our Christmas celebrations will be pretty much the same as they've always been.  But, after this year, I don't expect holidays to ever feel quite the same again.  Just like the graduation announcements I ordered two months ago, the last high school class schedule changes, and the last of the parent-teacher conferences, this holiday season is one more reminder of the sea change that is coming.  It's creeping up on me in the side mirror.  Objects are closer than they appear.