For Auld Lang Syne

As I sit at my keyboard and listen to this beautiful song by Mairi Campbell I'm drawn to the waning minutes of this year-2010, my 60th year on this earth. 60 years....where did they go and I wonder if I missed any of them. Surely there were moments that I did not grasp. What happened to that third grader who lived for the summer months of baseball, hot dogs, and a dog named "Terry"? Did the high school pimply faced kid miss out on those cherished parental moments? Was college not just a reflection of a political foundation that never stuck? Did my failed marriage allow me to garner implication for preparation to be a senior citizen? I listen to the words of this ill fated song and hope to rely on long standing friendships and never to forget them and their total and utter importance in the person I've learned to become. I read the quote of Thoreau that I used several days ago, "to make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives". I hope I've been able to discern those from the less fortunate ideas that have scanned my brain waves, and those have dominated mine.

I look at the blessings of not just this year (for certainly there have been many)but for those that have been given to me for all time. I celebrate my life and am somewhat amused at those that look perilous at their own. I've grown to acknowledge the most insignificant of details in my life that their unconventionality have become conventional. Surely the most significant that linger are a job, place to live, health, friends, family, pets, but my faith and its ever present role in my life and its essence. I've learned far to late in life the presence it must have. I celebrate it as its sustainability for now and ever.

I Look To You

I've commented on this time of the year as being the happiest and yet sad as well. It's one of life's paradoxical segments that strains one's soul; the ability to confuse and yet redeem at a given moment. I've often spoken of my parents and the dedication of this very blog to them, is my testament to perplexity of my emotions at Christmas time. They're "here" but not here and my heart still cries out to them for comfort. Redemption is a peculiar entity when faced with the absence of their lives. I didn't take the time when they were alive to let them know that redemption is a powerful and ever giving quality. I learned it way too late. For now, I Look to You! Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad.

"The Rush"

"As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives."
Henry David Thoreau

I've used this picture to emulate the idea personified by Thoreau in his quote. Just as it's not a single stream of water that engulfs this flow, so it is that are thoughts aren't just singular but an array of microcosms that flood our being. It is in the minute process of elementary thought that we capture one to dominate and influence us.

Strands of Time

I've always liked this image and it evokes not just a intricate reception of detail and pattern, but I also tend to let those considerations masquerade its underlying motive. That being the multitude of layers that make up our lives and the vast influences that cordon our very thoughts. As one would bend each strand and make a wish, you would also see the intricate highway of thought that effects one's life.
"A man who as a physical being is always turned toward the outside, thinking that his happiness lies outside him, finally turns inward and discovers that the source is within him."-Kierkegaard

"Now Dancer"

Christmas 2010 has come....and will be gone in several minutes. I think of this marvelous poem and the hopes of every child from 1-99. As I lay there with "visions of sugar plums dancing in my head", I listen for the prancing and the pawing of each tiny hoof on my roof and I await his arrival down my chimney to only be covered from head to toe with soot so tarnished and black, I can recall in a moment my wish to him. I saw the twinkling of his eye, and the nod of his head as he looked at my stockings so eager to thread. His nose was so red and cherry, that my hopes for fulfillment never were to vary. He filled them love and trust for I knew to win was a must. He finished his work and gave off with a jerk, and up the chimney he rose to give me a tweak by a nose. I heard him say as he settled in his sleigh...."Now Piper, Now Dancer, on Remy"

At last I heard him say,"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night".

Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus and He came to my house this 25th day of December, in the year 2010.

REFLECTIONS

Wow, it's here (almost); that commercial and multi cultural phenomenon that is so marked by the appearance of that jolly old man in the red suit. We've become so enamored each year at an earlier and earlier time of it's coming. Christmas songs fill the airwaves even before the left over turkey has been wrapped in foil and the last vestiges of dressing have been Tupperwared. Tree farms send their stock and decorations abound the city streets. Those crusty old imitations adorn the malls and parents crowd those porcelain floors for the picture of "Junior" on Santa's lap. John Lennon belts out over the radio waves...."so this is Christmas, what have you done?", Nat King Cole's velvet cords croon, "chestnuts roasting over an open fire" and we're so absorbed by the marketing that we're lost in the true meaning of who and why we're celebrating.

I was afraid of this day for the very reason I welcome it's presence now. As much as I didn't want it to be a focal point, it signified success. And while I asked Him each day to give me another day..and another...and another, I was mentally besieged that it would somehow betray me. He hasn't and I'm so very thankful that I'll get to celebrate this day with not just him, but my other four legged friends as well. For when you live with the possibility of its coming each day, you cling ever so faithful to His inner strength. Thank you for giving us this special day, but another day as well. I continue to be blessed.

Can't See the Forest Through the Trees

I've often been perplexed by this quote and what it actually means. It's an oft used quote in a variety of contexts...songs, poems, prose, books,etc. One of my favorite John Denver songs-"Boy From the Country" uses it as the boy who doesn't want to see the forest through the trees. In looking at the overall picture we often miss the details that make up that big picture. And so too in life, we're often bogged down by the mundane, the idiosyncratic and thus our lives become an anomaly of mediocrity. We've forgotten the Higher Power and the place that it has in our lives. How many times have I failed to look for the detail of a decision or missed the importance of an imperfection and dismissed it as trivia. Let's strive not to be impeded by the lack of detail but rather the significance of totality.
Hey, it's going to be a White Christmas this year.

Winter's Grip

I neglected to mention in my last post of the images that were posted are some stark ethereal images of winter and it's rather icy grip that befalls us at this time of the year. Fortunately we don't adhere to the really austere grasp of a bitter cold such as Minnesota or God forbid-Alaska and it's frozen tundra. But here in St. Louis, we can get stung by an icy field that chills one to the bone and harkens us to the droll of the dog days of summer. And if you've ever been to St. Louis, it's the one thing that identifies us with the whimsical, the farcical, the quirky is that if you don't like the weather, wait a day, it will change. Alas, this blog or even this post isn't a weather report. This particular post favors on the mystique of winter and the allusion of a silent reverie that we subject ourselves to. We harbor to our barcalounger, in front of the fireplace and hunker down from the icy blast. We entertain ourselves with the thoughts of Thoreau, or the poetry of Frost, "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" and however pensive our idioms become we look for the finite in an infinite world. Just as the ice on this leaf is kissed by the sun, and slowly cascades to the ground, we look for the flow of those dissolving waters to carry us home.

Been Awhile

As I look back on my last post (July 13, 2010, egads-five months!) I wonder if I had been in some kind of time warp having been redirected by some alien force. My looks haven't changed,(a little more gray hair) I'm not able to read anyone's mind, I don't possess some cosmic power that entitles me to know the winning lottery numbers (darn-not that I'd know what to do with all that money anyway but to give it away),but it's been more of a just being lazy-fashioning my gluteus maximus to the Frasier Chair. It's not a matter of being preoccupied with some other edifying editorial espionage that has garnered my time. The few events that have been most distracting to me as of late are still that way. My best friend is still with me and we have each others back. I've had many thoughts along the way in these last 5 months, but just didn't have the where for all to go upstairs and sit down in front of this screen and put them down on paper...er' LED readout.

It's now several days away from the most important holiday of the year-Christmas, my most favorite time of the year. And it also creates a strange paradox for me as while it is the happiest of times for me, it certainly evokes the saddest time of the year as well. Maybe I should refer to it as bittersweet instead. It's an oscillating breath of emotion that occurs. Happiest in that there is such a bevy of joy, sharing, and good deeds being done, and it is also one of sadness in that the most significant people in my life aren't here with me; at least in the physical sense-Mom and Dad. I think of the poignant words of Kathy Mattea's haunting song, "Who's Gonna Know But Me", "cause who's gonna know but me to help me recall those old memories,when I'm all that's left of this family of three". And now that's left is but the 3 of us...my beautiful sisters. "If I were a video I could rewind, I go back and slow down each moment in time, and I'd disconnect the fast forward button, so I'd forever to tell them I love them".
Merry Christmas Mom and Dad...but then again you knew this.

A Century

Many events occur during a century-that mystical number of 100 years. It’s a celebrated occasion marked by fanfare, excitement, reference, influence, and most notable-accomplishment. Time magazine marks it as one of noteworthy accomplishment as one person is crowned Person of the Century. We look at that person’ achievements; what did he/she do that establishes them in the annals of history as leaving their mark for future generations to reflect, to honor or even vilify, that bravado that etches them into history.
I look at another person today and while her achievements clearly won’t leave the average reader with a sense of awe and wonderment nor even a protracted sense of envy. She didn’t discover anything like a Pasteur, nor invent a significant piece of machinery such as an Edison, nor were her stories of such literary acumen that scholars would scramble to the nearest editor for publication. We certainly wouldn’t describe her as a Muse-one of those inspired goddesses of Greek/Roman mythology who presided over the arts and sciences. It wasn’t hard to pronounce her name like Calliope, or Erato, or Polyhymnia. It was a very simple name that was glorified by one of the greatest entertainers, showmen of all time-George M. Cohan. “For it was Mary, Mary, plain as any name can be”.
Mary was as plain as her name. As I said, she didn’t “discover” anything, but maybe her innate sense of undying love for her husband and children. Her “inventions” won’t be copied or patented, but maybe it will be her “invention” of how to stand tall and courageous in sea of life’s adversities. We won’t have to worry about her literary “muses” being plagiarized for there isn’t any more uncomplicated way of writing, “Love,Mom”.
She would have been 100 years young today had she not been called home 17 years ago July 9th. We would have given her cards marking this day. We would have certainly taken her to one of her favorite restaurants, maybe even a trip to her favorite city-Las Vegas and she would have tired of pulling the lever of the slot machines. Certainly we would have all gasped in amazement had she lined up those 3 pieces of fruit to win the jackpot. We would have shared cake and ice cream with her and most nostalgically sang Happy Birthday. And we know her thoughts would have drifted to her beloved, her soul mate, her only true love-Paul.
Did she ever get her picture on the cover of Time? Nah, it wasn’t necessary for her, but we know her picture will forever be engraved in our hearts. Happy Birthday, Mom

Eleven

If I were at the Crap Tables in Vegas and I needed a number to get me through, I'd want to roll an 11. And almost a year ago, I didn't know if 11 was going to come around for him. He was in the early stages of what would prove to be a struggle for his mere existence. What were these "hiccups" and untimely changes in his behavior that summoned in me a inauspicious warning? For us "mortals" to be strapped with the "C" word often beckons fear, anger, frustration, despair, and a whole host of emotional retreats. But when that "C" word is given to our best friend, those emotional retreats are not just doubly compounded, but we begin that inevitable bargaining with God. How many rosaries can I say...do You want me to promise to attend Mass every day....I'll never speak disparagingly of Aunt Bertha again...I promise I'll never cuss or look at a Playboy magazine again. But I've learned that I can't "bargain" with God, He's going to call all the shots from here on out and actually has been calling them from Day 1. I know that strength comes from not just within but from the outside as well. No, I don't think it fair the "C" comes to humans, but even more so to my best friend. It's a curious mark that he be straddled with this. I do ask myself "why"? His whole life is centered around me and why must he be given such a test? Or, is it me that's been given the test? Jesus once said, "come to me all you are labored and burdened, and I will give you rest". I am asking Him now to give me rest and strength during this time. I'm asking my angel that on this day next year, I can post: "Twelve".
In the meantime, Happy 11th Birthday Dancer...thank you for 11 of the best years of my life.

95

I'm having a talk with him now as I sit eating my bowl of mixed berries. I invited him for breakfast but as usual he'd rather get one of his breakfast sandwiches from Hardees. It's not a particular discerning conversation but it's one of substance, or I'd at least like to believe it that way. We kicked around when he was last in the hospital and time was fleeting for him. He wasn't particular to the hospital food so I would bring him those fat induced, grease filled, artery clogging sandwiches. He remembered going there with "Whiskers" in tow and they would venture to Oak Knoll Park, he sitting on the bench reminiscing about life and missed opportunities or failed ventures; "Whiskers" off chasing squirrels. We didn't have many of these while I was growing up and most of the time they were particularly one sided....he talked and I had to listen. I'm looking at him across the table from me and we're square up-eye to eye. But, I'm calling on him now as I want his comfort. I want to lay my head in his lap and above all, I need his embrace. I want him to tell me it's going to be alright. I want him to tell that he had direct contact with Jesus and He said my little boy is going to pull through this. I want to him to use whatever pull he has in heaven to make this disease go away. I'm hoping that he had coffee with Jude and Francis for I know they have influence of lost causes and animals and that with their influence as being long time tenants and most importantly have prime real estate in that section of heaven where all the creatures of God's kingdom frolic and play and that they're not ready for one more. I want them to tell me my loan has been extended and I can keep him longer.

Dad, please put in those good words for my Dancer, and oh, by the way....Happy 95th!! The breakfast sandwich is on me. Thanks for listening. But somehow, I think you knew that.
PS, tell Mom I love her!
Your loving son,

8 Is Not Enough

Well, I have been negligent in making this post about my "little boy". I didn't miss his special day for he and I (as is the custom for each of my "kids")on their birthdays to go with "dad" to Petsmart and pick out their presents. But, I have been lazy about posting for his special day-April 10. Where do 8 years go?? In a heart beat, it seems like yesterday that I traveled to Iowa, under the guise of "rescuing" mistreated Border Collies, all the while telling my sisters that I was going there to find homes for Border Collies. It wasn't too far from the truth as I was "finding" a home, or actually giving a home to this little guy. It was actually my aunt that sort of blew the whistle on me (and I only say that jokingly) as I had told her of my plan to bring "Remy" home. Unbeknownst to me, did I realize that she would speak to my sisters and ask..."did your brother get his puppy yet"? Only then did I realize that my "cover" was blown and the true story of why I went to Iowa came forth.
And life for this little guy (and me) wasn't without cause or incident for at 10 mos. did I fathom the trauma that we would endure together. For he developed a necrotic hip and after several hip surgeries and countless hrs of physical therapy did I understand the what it meant to be "joined at the hip". For, Remy became my "compadre", my "shadow", my "kemo sabe", my "amigo", and he became for me, my muse. For, I looked differently at him as I surely do now for what he had to endure for those seven months or so of surgery and rehabilitation. Sure, his dog sport career was cut short, but it gave me another perspective on the true meaning of what a dog does for me. He is here to give me unconditional love and my job is to be worthy of it...something I try to do each and every day of his life. I only hope that I have achieved a goal....that I have become as wonderful as Remy thinks I am.
I leave this quote for all to think about..."He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his leader. He will be yours faithful and true to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion". Remy, I hope I have lived up to that for you.
Dad

Thoughts for today

"Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants."


Today's quote or muse comes from the noted Greek Philosopher-Epictetus. I look at this particular quote as penetrating into our own psyche of materialism. How often in our adolescence into our adulthood did we identify our value as what we owned or coveted? We so infrequently relied on not having them and thus creating our own happiness from that. For it is with the lack of great possessions that hopefully we can draw our fulfillment.

ABIDING BY THE LIGHT

Remember always that you are just a visitor here, a traveler passing through. Your stay is but short and the moment of your departure unknown. None can live without toil and a craft that provides your needs is a blessing indeed. But if you toil without rest, fatigue and weariness will overtake you and you will be denied the joy that comes from labour´s end. Speak quietly and kindly and be nor forward with either opinions or advice If you talk much this will make you deaf to what others say and you should know that there are few so wise that they can not learn from others Be near when help is needed but far when praise and thanks are being offered. Take small account of might , wealth and fame, for they soon pass and are forgotten. Instead nurture love within you and strive to be a friend to all. Truly compassion is a balm for many wounds. Treasure silence when you find it and while being mindful of your duties set time aside to be alone with yourself. Cast off pretence and self-deception and see yourself as you really are. Despite all appearance no one is really evil. They are led astray by ignorance. If you ponder this truth always you will offer more light rather than blame and condemnation. You, no less than all beings, have Buddha Nature within. your essential mind is pure. Therefore when defilement causes you to stumble and fall, let not remorse nor dark fore-Bonding cast you down. Be of good cheer and with this understanding, summon strength and walk on. Faith is like a lamp and wisdom it is that makes the flame burn bright. Carry this lamp always and in good time the darkness will yield and you will abide in light.

Dhammavadaka

"NO BOGIE HERE"

IT’S BEEN SEVERAL DAYS SINCE MY LAST POST ABOUT THIS MAN WHO WAS SCHEDULED FOR THE CHALLENGE OF HIS LIFE. HE HAD ARRIVED AT A CROSSROAD THAT UNBEKNOWNST TO HIM WAS GOING TO EXPOSE A TAPESTRY OF HIS LIFE. THOSE CLOSEST TO HIM BEGAN A PROCESS OF EXAMINATION AND INTROSPECTION OF THAT TAPESTRY REFLECTING ON THOSE 84 YEARS, CONSIDERING WHAT WOULD LIFE AND CERTAINLY THEIR LIVES LOOK LIKE WITHOUT HIM IN IT. OPEN HEART SURGERY IS NOT WITHOUT SIGNIFICANT ELEMENTS OF RISK. ANYTIME A SURGEON CRACKS THE RIB CAGE, TAKES AN ARTERY FROM ANOTHER PART OF THE BODY, STOPS THE FLOW OF BLOOD SO THAT LIFE LINES WILL CONTINUE; ONE MUST BE CONCERNED. AND DURING THAT TIME WE RELIED ON THE WONDERS OF MODERN MEDICINE AS ANOTHER MACHINE PINCH HIT FOR HIM. IT WAS THE FIRST TIME THAT HE EVER NEEDED A “PINCH HITTER”. THE SKILL OF THE SURGEON JUMP STARTED HIS LIFE. IT WASN’T THAT BLOOD WAS RESTORED TO FLOW IN THIS MAN’S VEINS, BECAUSE IT’S NOT BLOOD THAT FLOWS IN GUYS LIKE HIM, IT’S THE LOVE OF HIS FAMILY, HIS CHILDREN, GRAND CHILDREN, GREAT GRAND CHILDREN AND MOSTLY HIS COMPADRE’, HIS PASSION, HIS BRIDE, HIS DELORES. IF ONE ADHERES TO THE TEACHINGS OF PLATO, A “SOUL MATE” IS TWO HALVES OF A WHOLE PERSON-EACH HALF NEEDING TO FIND THE OTHER TO BE WHOLE OR COMPLETE, THEN THEY HAVE FOUND EACH OTHER.

THIS WEEKEND IS THE ST. PATRICK’S DAY PARADE. IT WON’T BE COMPLETE AND COULDN’T BE A SUCCESS WITHOUT HIS PRESENCE IN HIS “EMMETT KELLY’ CLOWN PERSONA. TIME WILL PASS, HIS REHAB CONTINUES UNTIL THE DAFFODILS HAVE BLOOMED, THE FORSYTHIAS BUDDED OUT, AND THE LAST VESTIGE OF WINTER HAS FADED. SPRING WILL HAVE ARRIVED AND ALL THE FAMILIAR SOUNDS THAT COME WITH IT WILL COMMENCE. THE FAMILIAR PARRYING OF THE MEADOWLARK, THE REPETITIVE CHIRP OF THE CARDINAL, AND THE UNNERVING WAIL OF RICH ON THE 14TH…….....”FORE”. IT’S TIME TO TEE UP!!!

"You Gotta Have Heart"

As his strength is stretched for the most significant test of his life and the demands that have challenged him, I think of the words to this song….”you gotta have heart, all you really need is heart”. Or maybe I should be saying, “you gotta have Rich”. For without that effervescent smile-you know the one that lights up a room that is predictable as a 5 yr. old on Christmas Day, we’d all have a lot less delight in our lives. We’d struggle with mediocrity and the undeniable fact that his life has brought a sense of fulfillment to those that know him. He’s led by his example of unequivocal love and devotion to his one true love and not just his children, but grand children, and now great grand children. There’s a manifestation about his life that one could look at as patently bland. But I’m not using bland in a monotonous, or uninspiring trait, but actually one of simplification and strength. He is not one of fanfare or tooting his own horn, unless of course he’s birdied the 15th, or sunk that 18 footer. He adores his life, his family and his God. And with that creed, all good things have come to him. You couldn’t write it much simpler than that.

I think of the words to another song that inspires me about this man;
“turn on your heartlight, let it shine wherever you go, let it make a happy glow, For all the world to see”.
And as he wheeled into the operating room tomorrow morning, I’ll not be saying just a prayer for him, but I’ll also be saying a prayer for the surgeon, that he knows what a gift he has been given today to bring not just blood flowing through this man's veins, but life as well and that God guides his hands into the very soul of this man and “turns on his heartlight, so that it will continue to shine for all the world to see”. For you see... “You Gotta Have Rich”.

The Clown

He’s a clown and if you never saw him embellish himself as Emmett Kelly and witness his bantering about on a St. Patty’s Day Parade or take an impish delight in the ease of his devilish playfulness with his grandkids you’re missing pure joy!

You wonder how he’s lived so long with a heart as big as his, because you know he’s surely made it exert double duty for all these years. But God must have given him a heart way beyond its normal capacity. And yet, now it is this very heart that struggles, it labors under the weight of his generosity. The very notion of what Rich’ heart was meant to do, confronts the infection that impales him.

To see him lying in his hospital bed is such a disparate sight; wired like the inside of a computer. Tubes flowing here, monitor lines running like rush hour on 64, more CRT’s than on the show room floor at Best Buy. This is not how Rich should be seen. He should be sitting in his barcalounger with little CeCe and Kuper on his lap with his ever faithful “King” at his side, bantering with his bride Delores. Surely he’d rather be navigating a cross cut at Steinberg gliding through the defenders eyeing the goalie or, deciding which club to use on the 12th at Tee-Up, or encouraging one of his many grand kids to slide as they turn the corner heading towards home plate,

Guys like him are icons.. They don’t make them like him anymore. And being an icon, like all God’s creatures, he’s here on loan from God; to bless us with his presence for whatever time God will give us. God has loaned him 84 years, 62 of them with his love, his passion, his bride. We should all be given a blessing like that.
So, as I look to the heavens, I say these words with respect, with devotion, as prayer, “Let him live”.

"For All That's Been Said and Done"

I've been meaning to put this little video together for Mary and Paul for sometime. I've been remiss lately as another "family" course of action has remanded me. If you've read any of my posts over the last several months, you'll understand. I had intended to use another song (and I still most probably will) but for the time being, this one has certainly touched my heart.

I am the "kid" of Mary and Paul and in several of my posts about them and their human frailties, I have readily admitted to their shortcomings and in a typical muse about dysfunctional families, it has been all to simple to oblige their failings as my parents who only went to war with each other and took myself and my sisters as prisoners. And yet, I don't blame them for they only had so many parenting skills to pass onto me. And what strengths they did have as parents, they gave to me. Kids don't come out with a manual and even if we did, we"re way to young to read it to new moms and dads. I could have acquiesced to their disturbed emotional duress and used them as an excuse. But parents can only be responsible for so long for their kids. The rest is really up to us. Looking back. I would be negligent and there would be a sufficient degree of remorse on my part to think I had lousy parents. There had to come a time in my life to accept my entrance into adulthood, establish the boundary that parents must develop from their children, and learn that I may have been "robbed" of a childhood because mom and dad may have missed an opportunity with me. But to hold that against them and take it into my adulthood will only deprive me of my own happiness. The only person who got "robbed" here is me and it was my own doing.
To this day, I continue to look to Mary and Paul.

Thoughts for today

Well the pace of my blog has suffered in the last few weeks as I've tended to rest on my laurels so to speak. The recent activity has centered around my pup-Dancer and his struggle with cancer. And while I know the "bastard" can still win, I choose to relinquish my preoccupation and adhere to the more subtle delicacies of life-such as orchids. It's not that I don't fall back on his condition and my continued hope that the "bastard" won't win, I must distract myself. I'm giving up a quote from that famous poet-William Wadsworth Longfellow for some more fluid thoughts for today.

"Look not mournfully into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present, it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart."

And while I humbly approach these words with trepidation...the shadowy future must not be laid with fear. I know it with His intervention that I will have a manly heart.

I shot the Orchid Show at the Botanical Gardens this weekend.

Here's one of the images I enjoyed.

CHASING LIFE

We've celebrated our most precious Christmas ever and were granted the best Christmas gift of all....my boy is here with me and the rest of our brood. In one way it seemed that we emigrated from a time dimension to another. The New Year ushered in with a cascade of joy and abound that I had never experienced before. I fully did not expect my big boy to be with me at this time. In fact, my entire preparation for this season was one of solace and heartache. I've always treasured the Christmas season, not just because of my faith, but because of a time of renewal and gratitude, and my undying belief in a Santa Claus mentality. I know he doesn't fly around from rooftop to rooftop (or does he?) clamoring at the top of his lungs..."now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer, and Vixen,"....but isn't there that child in all of us that really wants to believe he truly exists??? Or is it that God comes to life in that sentiment of Santa Claus? Isn't it He that delivers our wants and propels our excitement in matters of what could be? For me, that "could be" was a manifestation of my "Dancer" and me chasing life, not running from death. I've quoted Andy Dufresne before on previous posts. One of his idioms bears repeating again...and again..."Get busy living, or get busy dying." We continue to get busy living...and for that we're blessed.