'Tis the day before New Years Eve. All humans are reflecting about the past year, 2011.
I never got used to writing that date. Caught myself writing a check dated for 19XX before I realized I was lost in the last century. It felt very natural to write that 19 and I didn't know I was in trouble until I tried to remember the last two digits for the current year. Then my error hit me. 2012 just flows better.
The weather events for 2011 played havoc throughout the world. Tsunami's, earthquakes, tornadoes, floods, famines, record rainfalls, record droughts. I kept waiting for the locusts and other signs of doom to arrive, but alas, humans are remarkably adaptable so life continued, even in the face of tragedy and loss.
The economy still affects everything we do here in our house. I had a job in my profession at the beginning of the year but at the end of the year, I am jobless so I am following the path my hobby with beach glass is taking me. My husband is examining figures and contemplating if he can retire in 2012. He's one of the few in his peer group who is still working. I worry that he'll work one day, one week, one month, one year too long and we will regret it. Life can flip in one doctor's appointment if you get bad news. We want to be capable of doing things we've put off. We have no idea what those things are, but I'm sure we'll come up with some ideas while dozing on the beach after he retires.
Our granddaughters will grow exponentially in 2012. I wish we lived closer to both of them so we could be active participants in their childhood, enjoying the small things they are learning to do. But perhaps our goal could be just to visit them more often, more spontaneously. I am envious that both sets of our own parents lived in the same city, sometimes on the same street, as we did as our children were growing up. I didn't realize how convenient that was for all of us until we realized we live too many miles away to just zip over to visit our own children.
Every year, folks resolve to lose weight, get fit, take care of themselves. But this year, it has to happen or dire consequences could descend upon us. We are not young anymore and getting in shape doesn't just happen like it once did while running after small children, picking them up when they weighed more than I thought I could ever bench press. I know that in order to assure success, one should state out loud the weight loss or exercise goals. Sorry, Folks, I'm not doing that. My lips are sealed, as they should be when I pass by any goodies brought into this house. New rule: Nothing that isn't good for me should enter this house. Let's see how long that commitment lasts! But seriously, I know the risks now that I have entered another decade in age. I do not want bad news at any doctor's appointment!
2012 will be the year to get our physical, mental and spiritual "houses" in order first. For with inside order comes outside order. I love the sense of peace that settles when chaos becomes orderly, when indecision is exchanged for research and confidence. That is my priority for this new year. I resolve to make decisions that are good for me, for us, for my family. I've always preached that the most important thing in life is making good decisions. Now is my chance to live that.
Happy 2012 to All!
Friday, December 30, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Christmas Past
Christmas seemed to be much more festive and elaborate when I was younger. There were trips to Pennsylvania to visit my grandparents and visits to my aunt, uncle and cousins in my hometown. You went to church on the Sunday before Christmas and received a fancy little box of candy, which had a string handle. It was all hard candy that I didn't like, but the box was delightful! And I always received a Lifesavers "book" filled with rolls of those round little gems of candy from my father's brother. I never really liked that candy either, but the little "book" was intriguing. That uncle had a silver tree that had a rotating colored light under it that made the tree change colors. That seemed so exotic!
When I was young, there were certain rituals that had to be followed when decorating for Christmas.. Things went in certain locations. The tree always stood in the corner by the two windows, beside the fake fireplace. There were ornaments I made in Girl Scouts and the paper chain I cut and colored for the tree that lasted for many years. Then there was the angel, which I just sold on eBay because she was spun glass, which fell out a lot. I decided to sell it or my children would throw it away when I died. The tinsel on the tree had to be put on strand by strand and never thrown on. Don't you dare throw that strand up to the top of the tree! As a Brownie, we would go caroling with our troop at night after it snowed. To this day, I remember how sparkly everything was outside, how magical it felt! I miss my Brownie troop leader and her daughter so much at this time of year and those were the only times I ever went out caroling. Perhaps next year, with electronic networking, I should try to organize a Caroling Mob.
There were the trips to visit the Talking ChristmasTree in the now-defunct outside shopping area and we always visited the Santa in the little hut in our town square. It seemed that it was always snowing and cold back then. My parents took my brother and I all the way into Cleveland one year to look at a fancy Christmas tree in some fancy store, perhaps Sterling Linder or Macy's. It took us all day to get there because there were no highways at that time. I took one look at the tree and asked, "Is that all there is?" I believe I may have been smacked by my mother for that particular remark.
While in Cleveland, we'd visit Mr. Jingaling in Halle's and get some paper keys. Someone posted a picture of him on my hometown's facebook page. He doesn't look nearly as festive now as I remember him. He's now just a memory, along with Captain Penny, Mr. Greenjeans, and Captain Kangaroo. I still remember at least some of the words of the song they always sang on tv about him,
"Mr. Jingaling, how you dingaling, keeper of the keys. On Halle's seventh floor, we'll be looking for you to turn the keys."
Christmas began to lose its magic in my teenage years. I don't remember much about Christmas at all during that time. Perhaps because my life revolved more around my friends and boyfriends than my family. I remember attending church, singing Christmas songs and cantatas in the choir. I loved when the church lights were dimmed and candles were lit. I was in the A Capella choir in my high school so we began practicing songs for the holiday in September. I can still sing my soprano parts to those particular songs and I miss participating in a choir at this time of year. Hallelujah Chorus!
When I had my girls, Christmas became very stressful. I tried to make the holiday perfect for them and the rest of my family. By then, I had become the "keeper of the holidays" so the pressure was on to search for the perfect presents and cook the traditional dishes of our family. We had to have the same dishes every year. I tried to substitute new ones, just to pester everyone, but those holiday menus are sacred!
Things went downhill as my girls grew up and moved on with their own families and traditions. My mother is gone now. I used to sit by her because she'd make comments and remarks that would spice up the day. She'd say,"Hot Damn!" when she was excited about something and at the end of the day, she'd exclaim, "Well, the big day's shot in the ass!" On one of her last Christmases, I found some Hot Damn cinnamon schnapp's for her but she was too sick to enjoy it. We offered a shot of that drink to friends at the funeral home when she died. We toasted and said, " Hot Dam" and told her that her big day was "shot in the ass." Not very prim and proper, but neither was my mother. At this time of year, I miss her humor and enthusiasm for the holiday music and lights and her zest for life.
Now, I truly am the "sandwich" generation. I am torn between being with my daughters and their families on holidays, yet I feel obligated to entertain our folks for what might be their last Christmas, although I have been saying that for the past ten years. I want no guilt when they are gone. No regrets. So I was thrilled when my oldest daughter made a surprise visit to us on Christmas this year. This was our off-year. They were supposed to be visiting their husband's families so it was going to be a long, uneventful day here. But my granddaughter's joy of the holiday brought smiles and noise back into this house. It made the day very special for the folks. I am grateful to my daughter for sharing their day with us.
So, Christmas is gone for another year. No regrets. New memories. A new year is beginning!
When I was young, there were certain rituals that had to be followed when decorating for Christmas.. Things went in certain locations. The tree always stood in the corner by the two windows, beside the fake fireplace. There were ornaments I made in Girl Scouts and the paper chain I cut and colored for the tree that lasted for many years. Then there was the angel, which I just sold on eBay because she was spun glass, which fell out a lot. I decided to sell it or my children would throw it away when I died. The tinsel on the tree had to be put on strand by strand and never thrown on. Don't you dare throw that strand up to the top of the tree! As a Brownie, we would go caroling with our troop at night after it snowed. To this day, I remember how sparkly everything was outside, how magical it felt! I miss my Brownie troop leader and her daughter so much at this time of year and those were the only times I ever went out caroling. Perhaps next year, with electronic networking, I should try to organize a Caroling Mob.
There were the trips to visit the Talking ChristmasTree in the now-defunct outside shopping area and we always visited the Santa in the little hut in our town square. It seemed that it was always snowing and cold back then. My parents took my brother and I all the way into Cleveland one year to look at a fancy Christmas tree in some fancy store, perhaps Sterling Linder or Macy's. It took us all day to get there because there were no highways at that time. I took one look at the tree and asked, "Is that all there is?" I believe I may have been smacked by my mother for that particular remark.
While in Cleveland, we'd visit Mr. Jingaling in Halle's and get some paper keys. Someone posted a picture of him on my hometown's facebook page. He doesn't look nearly as festive now as I remember him. He's now just a memory, along with Captain Penny, Mr. Greenjeans, and Captain Kangaroo. I still remember at least some of the words of the song they always sang on tv about him,
"Mr. Jingaling, how you dingaling, keeper of the keys. On Halle's seventh floor, we'll be looking for you to turn the keys."
Christmas began to lose its magic in my teenage years. I don't remember much about Christmas at all during that time. Perhaps because my life revolved more around my friends and boyfriends than my family. I remember attending church, singing Christmas songs and cantatas in the choir. I loved when the church lights were dimmed and candles were lit. I was in the A Capella choir in my high school so we began practicing songs for the holiday in September. I can still sing my soprano parts to those particular songs and I miss participating in a choir at this time of year. Hallelujah Chorus!
When I had my girls, Christmas became very stressful. I tried to make the holiday perfect for them and the rest of my family. By then, I had become the "keeper of the holidays" so the pressure was on to search for the perfect presents and cook the traditional dishes of our family. We had to have the same dishes every year. I tried to substitute new ones, just to pester everyone, but those holiday menus are sacred!
Things went downhill as my girls grew up and moved on with their own families and traditions. My mother is gone now. I used to sit by her because she'd make comments and remarks that would spice up the day. She'd say,"Hot Damn!" when she was excited about something and at the end of the day, she'd exclaim, "Well, the big day's shot in the ass!" On one of her last Christmases, I found some Hot Damn cinnamon schnapp's for her but she was too sick to enjoy it. We offered a shot of that drink to friends at the funeral home when she died. We toasted and said, " Hot Dam" and told her that her big day was "shot in the ass." Not very prim and proper, but neither was my mother. At this time of year, I miss her humor and enthusiasm for the holiday music and lights and her zest for life.
Now, I truly am the "sandwich" generation. I am torn between being with my daughters and their families on holidays, yet I feel obligated to entertain our folks for what might be their last Christmas, although I have been saying that for the past ten years. I want no guilt when they are gone. No regrets. So I was thrilled when my oldest daughter made a surprise visit to us on Christmas this year. This was our off-year. They were supposed to be visiting their husband's families so it was going to be a long, uneventful day here. But my granddaughter's joy of the holiday brought smiles and noise back into this house. It made the day very special for the folks. I am grateful to my daughter for sharing their day with us.
So, Christmas is gone for another year. No regrets. New memories. A new year is beginning!
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