I DIDN'T FORGET YOU

Dear Dad,

It seems like yesterday that I sat with you in your final moments of life.  I struggled then as I do now to watch you leave me. The loss hasn't gotten any easier and I miss you each day. I remember growing up and having the belief that Dads don't die, and especially not mine.  But with maturity, some semblance of reasoning, and a lot of understanding, I came to realize that death comes to all...even Dads and more so-mine. It was a bittersweet realization for me.  If you remember my words to you as I delivered your eulogy Oct. 1, 1976, "I had a love-hate relationship with my Dad, I loved to hate him". It was a myriad of emotions that flooded me for a good portion of my life with you.  I never understood your alcoholism and certainly my response to it. It evoked anger, frustration, sorrow, grief, despair, and above all loss.  For I lost those years with you.  I was angry with you for "going away" from me. I was frustrated that my Dad couldn't act around my friends like all the other Dads. It saddened me to see your sorrow in allowing this dreaded disease control you, destroy our family, and hasten the end to your life. It's a loss that I still miss to this day.  It would be "easy" to sit at this keyboard and recall those late nights when I sat at the window in our second story flat watching, waiting, longing for your car to pull into the driveway, knowing you had safely arrived home after a night of bar tending. I'd like to forget those nights when you'd awake in the middle of the night causing havoc to Mom as lie sleeping. Instead, I want to fondly remember the days you'd have catch me in the driveway, or all the Cards games you took my best friend Danny and me to watch at the old Sportsman's Park; or how you taught me to drive a stick shift in your 49' Willy's Jeep.  And probably the greatest knowledge I came to know very late in my life which was actually after you had gone was the story my other "Dad" told me. Dad Doerr, my forever baseball mentor and coach relayed the story to me of how you used to come and watch me pitch and as you stood out of sight behind the school wall so as not to "make me nervous". He told me that story several years ago as he himself lay in critical condition after suffering 3 heart attacks in one day. "If you build it, he will come"....the words of Ray Kinsella ring in my ears.
Hey Dad, you wanna have catch?

I remember Dan Fogelberg saying as he began singing this song one night, "If I been allowed to write only one song in my lifetime, it would have been this one," So, Paul, this one's for you.

2 YEARS

There's a lot to be said about our relationship with our dogs (and animals), how they affect many life decisions, activities, influences on what we say, and do.  If we've brought them home at a very early age, how can one refute the unassailable aroma of "puppy breath".  We gather them in our arms after their first feeding of puppy chow and then watch them surreptitiously gander about our house looking, searching, sniffing to lay their first load.  As we rush to pick them up, shout "NO, GO POTTY OUTSIDE", little do we think of the inevitable and how this bundle of joy that has given us so much joy, happiness, excitement, will one day break our hearts.  They will travel a road we will not be able to follow.  But, for ever how many years they will be waiting anxiously at the door, greet us with that wet, cold nose, longingly look us in the eye, and tell us there is no greater love we will ever experience, we have reached heaven on earth.  

For 15 years I was so graced and blessed.  I recall my first ride home with her, how she got car sick from the long drive home, how she was the last of the litter.  Was God trying to tell me something even back then.  Did He "save the best for last" for me?  I think so.  

It was during our last "communique" that she reminded me how she had loved our trips and not just our short, fragmented trips around town, but our many vacations off to the see the country with her fine furried friends and how her place in the front seat had to be.  How, she learned this mysterious game only at her choosing to deceive me into thinking this is what she wanted to do.  I should have known-a Border Collie is smarter than the average owner.  I was no different.  I should have understood that when I tried to teach her frisbee. Little did I know, she played only at her whim.  

Yes, 2 years seems like a long time.  But, in human years, I know she waits for me along with her other friends till I arrive.  Miss ya' Piper girl.

Thought For the Day

        " Nobody ever figures out what life is all about, and it doesn't matter. Explore the world. Nearly everything is really interesting if you go into it deeply enough."      

Richard P. Feynman

A LIttle Pre Christmas Thought

If you've read some of my previous posts, you know what a sucker I am for Christmas and my undying penchant to not let Christmas just be for one day a year but for the other 364 days as well.  So, here's a little pre Christmas cheer for us.  And in light of the miraculous discovery of the 3 young women in Cleveland, Ohio yesterday, I can only imagine the joy there families are experiencing.  There is a God!! It's only 230 days away.  Merry Christmas!!

VISION

Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are. 
Niccolò Machiavelli

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love."
~ Washington Irving ~

E.E. Cummings

It May Not Always Be So; And I Say

it may not always be so; and i say

that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch

another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch

his heart,as mine in time not far away;

if on another’s face your sweet hair lay

in such silence as i know,or such

great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,

stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be—

you of my heart,send me a little word;

that i may go unto him,and take his hands,

saying,Accept all happiness from me.

Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird

sing terribly afar in the lost lands

Now I Lay Me Down

Thought for the Day

No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn. 

Hal Borland

INFINITY ON HIGH

"Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all."
Vincent Van Gogh

 

MY GET UP AND GO

Old age is golden, or so I’ve heard said,
But sometimes I wonder, as I crawl into bed,
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.
As sleep dims my vision, I say to myself:
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
But, though nations are warring, and Congress is vexed,
We’ll still stick around to see what happens next!
 
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get-up-and-go has got up and went!
But, in spite of it all, I’m able to grin
And think of the places my getup has been!
When I was young, my slippers were red;
I could kick up my heels right over my head.
When I was older my slippers were blue,
But still I could dance the whole night through.
Now I am older, my slippers are black.
I huff to the store and puff my way back.
But never you laugh; I don’t mind at all:
I’d rather be huffing than not puff at all!
 

How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get-up-and-go has got up and went!
But, in spite of it all, I’m able to grin
And think of the places my getup has been!
I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Open the paper, and read the Obits.
If I’m not there, I know I’m not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed!
 

How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get-up-and-go has got up and went!
But, in spite of it all, I’m able to grin
And think of the places my getup has been!

Dad used to love this verse.  He had the article clipped to the refrigerator before refrigerator magnets were popular.  He used to love to read this to me.  It tickled him so.  In doing some "research" on its origin, I found an entry on the internet that claimed it actually originated in St. Louis.  The "author" is unknown but the writer of the entry says it was written by someone from the old Globe Democrat, a now defunct St. Louis newspaper.  In spite of its origins, I still find it humorous, poignant, and characteristically true.  Hope you enjoy it and by the way.....Happy Easter! 

This Aging Thing

“You don't stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.”
― George Bernard Shaw“
Embrace aging.”
― Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie

“It is lovely to meet an old person whose face is deeply lined, a face that has been deeply inhabited, to look in the eyes and find light there.”
― John O'Donohue

“I'm pretty sure that eating chocolate keeps wrinkles away because I have never seen a 10 year old with a Hershey bar and crows feet.” 

― Amy Neftzger

There is an element of serene tranquility that peppers my life now.  Gone are the hurried days of completion and fragmented accomplishments.  The veneer that so covered an existence without hesitation has vanished.  I read these quotes with humor and reflection and ask myself if there is a need to clothe myself in review.  Was there something missing in my life or had I failed to find the leprechaun's pot of gold?  I used to ask myself of how I would be at this age...fearful, deliberate, oppositional, or even surreptitiously happy?  I prefer the latter as aging hasn't become something as a distance yet to be reached, but moreover a veneration that I'm here and moving forward.  “Good thing I'm aging, otherwise I'd be dead.” So, on the contrary, I'd prefer it to be this way.   

― Ana Monnar

The hair is graying, the face is lined, there's a bit of a paunch, I don't see as well, the body parts don't all get up together in the morning, but surprisingly they all fall asleep together.  But, I like it this way and have grown accustomed to this.  There is no guesswork at life for I've laid it out with commitment and resolution.  I would not change a thing.

Another Year

Quite simply, I've been graced with another year on this glorious planet.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed He would have given me 63 of them.  For that I'm truly thankful.

Thought For the Day

"Life has no meaning. Each of us has meaning and we bring it to life. It is a waste to be asking the question when you are the answer."

Joseph Campbell

"It is, moreover, only in the state of complete abandonment and loneliness that we experience the helpful powers of our own natures." ~C. G. Jung

Live Your Life

You're alive only once, as far as we know, and what could be worse than getting to the end of your life and realizing you hadn't lived it? 

Edward Albee

The Beauty in Song

I downloaded this song several months ago and sort of stashed it away in my iTunes library not really giving it much thought or "airtime".  I was perusing my library several days ago looking for what's there, and what's "not there" if you get my drift.  I always get inspiration listening to music, adhered by the poignancy of a artist's lyrics, the catchy melody, the crescendo of his/her voice as it skirts in and out of a particular meaningful verse.  Music like this often moves me to tears.  It doesn't necessarily have to be the lyrics, but can be the melody.  And so it is with this particular song that was immersed in one of my Country playlists.  I started listening to it and as it's words struck a chord with me (sorry for the play on words) and I found myself belting it out over and over and over in the car.  As you can see I've embedded it in this particular post.  As I often like to do, it's a song about reminiscing, not living there, but touching on those days gone by and the memories that are evoked from them.  I'm often saddled by those times and thinking of the one that got away, (or I let get away), and how the haunting verse in this song tattles me with ever so bittersweet memories.  He so beautifully sings of "the power of song when a song hits you right".  This is one of those song that "hits me right".  And it doesn't have to be a song, it could be greeting card verse, a lasting memory from a movie scene of one which embraces me and swaps places with me for now.  Yes, it's the forever sound, or vision of those sounds of a million dreams that lingers with me for all time.

"Seger was singin' words I could believe in
And "Mainstreet" was my street that night
So I called up Samantha and asked her the chance of
us runnin' out neath the moon light
Well shes not with me now, she can always be found
When I rewind the radio dial
and like it was then I feel her on my skin
and I'm back there for a while

[Chorus]
So I labor for hours cuz' I know the power
Of a song when a song hits you right
Poured my soul into stories of life
Hopin' someone will hear one tonight.

Maybe my voice
will cut through the noise
And stir up an old memory
And out of these piano keys
Comes the sound
The sound of a million dreams

[Verse 2]
My 18th summer I was a cocky up and come'er
Crankin' up "Born To Run"
Turn left out the drive with the pistons open wide
And I came back a prodigal son

My spirit was broken, she threw the door open
I love you not I told you so
When I hear "Momma Tried" I still break down and cry
And pull to the side of the road".

TWO YEARS

I fully and readily and quite unashamedly admit to being a "sap" when it comes to events or circumstances in life and my own for that matter that touch me.  Interestingly enough, I didn't used to be this way or maybe I didn't want to admit to it lest it label me as a "sissy".  What a revelation we often come to that identifies us in terms of our sentimentality.  It's not surprising to me that I tear up when it comes to the silliest of things; a Folger's coffee commercial where the girl's brother has returned from being overseas in the Army, any of the Hallmark commercials, and the coup de grace for the Super Bowl this year was the Budweiser commercial where the grown up Clydesdale recognizes his young trainer.  You might as well build the damn now to stop the flow of tears.  And so it goes with "anniversaries" of sorts with me, especially those reminding me of the death of either my parents or one of my pets.  And it is without hope or agenda that I acknowledge that it was 2 years ago this week that I lost my boy Dancer to cancer.  This particular picture was actually taken the day before he died, Feb. 12, 2011.  It seems like it was such a long time ago and then again not.  It seems as I've aged, when I reminisce on those recollections of past events they don't appear to have zipped by, but now as I think on Feb. 12, 2011. it feels like it has been a drudgery of time.  But in any event, I miss him each day as I do Piper who died 6 mos. later.  But again, I don't allow a self pity to hold me to some grave, but relish in the time I was so blessedly given to be with them.

He Be 4

If you're an animal person then this post will make perfect sense to you.  If you think a dog or cat should be relegated to sitting outside, chained to a post, or left to wander the streets in search of it's next meal, then you won't get it at all.  This is Kody (and his buddy-Riley) and he turned 4 to day.  Or, this is the birthdate that was given to him by the Aussie Rescue group that found him wandering somewhere in southern Missouri about two years ago.  Infested with heart worm, somewhat emaciated but definitely a boy who could only give anything but love.  Fortunately for me, I met him some 4 mos. after my special boy "Dancer" died after a 18mos. struggle against nasal cancer.  At the time I truly wasn't looking for another dog.  I still had two at home and was still very much in a state of terrible grief over Dancer's death.  While I know full well that when you lose a pet, you never can find another one that will be like the one you've lost.  You only replace that one with another that you'll love unconditionally and they will do likewise.  However, in Kody's case, something very unique has occurred and when I saw his picture on the Aussie Rescue site, I was taken aback by him and his very uncanny resemblance to Dancer.  And now that he has been living with us for the last 2 years, I often think of Dancer reincarnated.  I'm not sure if it's the "Aussie" personality or if Dancer is "floating" around near our house and speaking to Kody, telling him to do the same things he did when he was alive.  Kody immediately looks to chase squirrels or rabbits as he bolts out the back door.  He poops as many times a day as Dancer did; like 5 or 6.  And when he does, he poops in  the oddest of places....along the fence under the ivy, or in the far back part of the yard where the ornamental grass is, or next to the trash cans.  He likes to curl up next to me in bed and lay his head on my arm.  For a dog that hasn't had any formal obedience training, he is frightfully obedient to me.  As you can see from the pictures I've posted, his love for Riley (and my other two cats) is astonishingly the same.  Dancer would often clean Riley's ears.  There's the old saying, "when a door is closed, somewhere God opens a window" certainly rings true in this case.  As I lost Dancer, God certainly brought Kody to help me heal.  

Happy 4th Birthday Kody!!

A Very Unique Sense of Awe

Over at 1600 the other day, there was a ceremony of sorts that left me in reverence for the participant that was honored.  As our illustrious commander in chief ceremoniously placed our highest honor around this gallant and heroic warrior's neck, my thoughts drifted to what sense of unflinching strength of courage could this man possess.  The news media began to play some of the video that he and his fellow soldiers encountered as they attempted to secure their position against the enemy.  I really don't understand where men such as he and his unit for that matter obtain their audacious skills.  I understand that these men are professional soldiers.  They have been trained to perform under a reasonable amount of stress and combat operations.  But I truly fail to understand what extraordinary quality in this soldier's make up allowed him to defiantly risk his own life to save so many others.  I never had to serve in the Armed Forces.  I can recall eons ago (actually in 1971) as my college buds and I sat in our dorm rooms and listened to the announcement of the birth dates as the draft was reinstituted for the Vietnam war.  As we heard the first birth date called out, "Sept. 14th", and we looked over at Tom K. as this was his birthday, we all thought, would we actually go if our local draft board sent us our "walking papers", to Uncle Sam that is?  I can still recall the fear that came over me as the my thoughts and images of running through a rice paddy with M-16 bullets whizzing over my head literally evoked panic in my body.  And then to hear the account of this man's description of being totally surrounded by Taliban forces, being seriously outmanned and outgunned, and his actions that he performed to save the remainder of his company only gives me the greatest of respect for him and his fellow soldiers.  I'm somewhat embarrassed as I sit half a world away, sitting on my ass in my barcalounger, drinking a Dr. Pepper while munching on a bowl of popcorn and he was defending me and another 200 million or so Americans.  Whether you agree with our government's policies or disagree with the shameful amount of money that is being pumped into this war, the fact is that he and some 35,000 other men and women are risking their lives day in and day out.  I salute you, and thank you.

That Which We Seek

Soon the child’s clear eye is clouded over by ideas and opinions, preconceptions and abstractions. Simple free being becomes encrusted with the burdensome armor of the ego. Not until years later does an instinct come that a vital sense of mystery has been withdrawn. The sun glints through the pines, and the heart is pierced in a moment of beauty and strange pain, like a memory of paradise. After that day, we become seekers. ~Peter Matthiessen

It's Getting Still...Closer

"What an astonishing thing a book is.  It's a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles.  But one glance at it and you're inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years.  Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you.  Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs.  Books break the shackles of time.  A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic."

Carl Sagan

WHO CARES?

In some ways, I can't believe I'm actually "blogging" about this.  However, there's been enough "buzz" on the internet about a variety of these issues, I couldn't help but throwing my 2c in.  Maybe it's out of wisdom or a bit of senior discernment (which could actually be wisdom) and the fact that as I've aged, what used to be important to me no longer radiates any significant value in my life.  Or, maybe stuff, and this is what it actually is-stuff, see no visible, intrinsic, or moral value in it's effect on me.  I guess I actually challenge those people who find it of value to ask themselves, "are you going to be a better person for knowing this?" But we live in a technocentric world (I think I just made up a word) that ransoms us to certain capricious and modulated bits of information.  For me, I don't recall (sign of age) when I was younger if this kind of "stuff" ever intrigued me.  I'm speaking right now of the latest and most egregious use of "air" time....."Did Beyonce lip sync the Star Spangled Banner at the Inauguration?"  In light of my attempts to keep this blog at a family valued interest, I will simply say, "who cares?".  Although, you know what I'd really like to say.  I have to think of how slow the news day is at some of our nationally syndicated networks that they even give this consideration.  And, sort of shame on me for putting this on my blog.  But, I'm trying to make a point here in that I'm trying to get one to find out and learn about themselves the value of information that we feed upon and is it really that important.  My other "pet peeve" is the Kardashian family news.  It is abhorrent that the antics of this so called nuclear family is given attention.  However, Ryan Seacrest sees a good thing when he's got it, and the amount of money that is generated for his network, himself and this family is my opinion, sinful.  But again, when I say, "my opinion", that's what it is exactly.  I guess, I just wish more people would redirect their energy, interest, and adulation to more prodigious events.

IS IT REALLY NECESSARY?

"Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach". ~Clarissa Pinkda Estes

I must admit and somewhat cynically that I'm not one for pomp and ceremonial pageantry.  It is the thing of kings and artisans and in my estimation, terribly intemperate.  I often look at such experiences as to whose benefit are we doing this?  Certainly not mine and the amount of money that exceedingly goes into such events is shameful.  I'm mainly speaking of the Inaugural functions that have occurred in the last several days.  Yes, I know we've elected a President and yes, I know there's "supposed" to be ceremonies that are by right-traditional.  But, really, does one really care what designer Michelle chose to make her dress?  Or does anyone really care whose shoes she and her daughters are wearing?  I believe the sad thing is, the answers to these questions are sadly a resounding Yes.  I look at the amount  of money that has been spent on these ceremonies and look more disgustedly on who's footing the bill-Me and about 200 million other Americans.  I look at what we could have done with that money and how many homeless shelters could have been built, or how many other bills could have been paid and how much could have been cut into our so called Fiscal Cliff.  Mind you, I am being cynical here and  my wonderment in how we got ourselves into this trillion dollar debt is only answered by the exorbitant amount of government waste we spend each day.

Oh, by the way, its now been 27 days since Christmas, only 338 more days!!

"The Man"

Living in a city that is so richly steeped in sports history and tradition, I often take for granted some of our true sports heroes.  And while I don't consider myself a "die hard" fan of baseball (well, as of the last 15-20 yrs. or so), we do have one of, if not the greatest baseball player living in our city.  For a man who had been bestowed with such extraordinary skills he was uniquely humble.  In this day an age of sports legends this is such a rarity.  He did not have the brashness of a Jose Conseco, or the arrogance of a Michael Vick, or the anger of a Lawrence Taylor.  He was a simple man from simple beginnings who married his childhood sweetheart-Lil, and stayed married to her for 72 years; something unheard of in today's standards.  He was never sullen or abrupt with the sports writers.  He always had a good word for them and his fellow players.  Never refusing an autograph or an interview, his words were always of a kind and gentle nature.  When his latter years witnessed the dwindling of his skills he took a pay cut in his salary.  Imagine an Albert Pujols, or Alex Rodriguez agreeing to such a situation.  His final year of playing, he made $80,000, a rather paltry sum by today's standards.  Years ago when the premier relief pitcher-Bruce Sutter pitched for the Cardinals, his salary was so exorbitant that it was determined that with each pitch, he was paid some $43,000 for each one.  When he first started out in baseball, his salary was a mere $4,320 and he thought he might have to leave baseball because he and his young wife-Lil couldn't afford to live on this amount.  The manager of the minor league team he played for took him and his wife into his home to live.  In 1958, he bought that manager a new home in Houston for $20,000.

Growing up in St. Louis and having been afforded the opportunity to attend Cardinal baseball games with my Dad was such a treat for me.  At the time, his impact on me, and what I was witnessing each time I went to a Cardinal game certainly wasn't something I understood then.  Only now, I can look back on those days in the 50's and 60's and cherish the boyhood excitement of walking through the gates of the old Sportsman Park to watch my hero.  And, during a "Meet the Cardinals" event one day, I was able to shake hands with my childhood idol.  I remember that day as if it happened yesterday.  I remember the smile on his face and the warm embrace of his hand as he asked me my name and autographed a baseball for me like he did for thousands of other kids who went and came after me.

Playing his entire career with the St. Louis Cardinals had its drawbacks in some ways.  He was never afforded the "press coverage" of say a Joe Dimaggio or a Ted Williams.  His name never made the society columns or had a scandal attached to it.  He simply compiled some of the most long standing records that the sport has ever seen.  He played for 22 years and for 22 years he was named an All-Star.  Recently he was presented with the Presidential Medal of Freedom by Barack Obama for his outstanding achievement and contribution to humanity.


"Stan the Man" Musial died yesterday in St. Louis at the age of 92.  He is survived by 4 children, and countless grandchildren and great grandchildren.  He now joins his beloved Lil who passed last May at the age of 91.

It's Getting Closer

  “Come clean with a child heart
   Laugh as peaches in the summer wind
   Let rain on a house roof be a song
   Let the writing on your face
  be a smell of apple orchards on late June.”
Carl Sandburg

                                       

"What is this Illusion"

"What is this illusion we call the innocence of youth, maybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth".

This is a line from one of my favorite Christmas songs, "My Grown Up Christmas List" and I look at this photo of this very young boy with childhood dreams in his eyes intently gazing with that "innocence" of his youth.  These words echo in my heart today and I wonder if his "blind belief" in a fantasy world without wars, where every man would have a friend, and right would always win can a dream still come true.  He sits there with a hope maybe that as he wishes for a new train set, or baseball glove, that a co-existence of all humans, Jews, Muslims, Christians become dependent on their mutual love for life and embrace the diversity in each.  I would hope his young mind would absorb the frailty of the human condition and understand that innocence doesn't have to be "blind" but that his and all men can have that faith to "make right always to win".  I always rely on one of my favorite quotes to bind this faith together: "Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies".

One More Day Closer

The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another. ~Thomas Merton

No, I haven't abandoned my notion of keeping the Christmas theme throughout the year.  It's just that I've had a liking for the works of Thomas Merton and came upon this quote early today, or actually yesterday as I'm looking at the clock and realize that as I'm typing this, it's Wed. morning.  Yikes....where, and how did I let the time get away from me.  That'll be another discussion for another post at another time.  But, as I read this quote and was applying it to a situation that I was faced with late in the afternoon with one of my students, the idea of compassion and the interplay of ALL people sort of struck home.  And, while my student and his interaction with another student was foremost in my mind, the harmonious bonds that our people in our country and the world should allow to ferment became very clear.  So, in keeping with the Christmas theme, I leave you with those famous words as he sprung into his sleigh...."Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight"

23 Days

My most recent posts and theme has been associated with Christmas and it's relativity to light, space, time and how far we move away from Dec. 25th and/or how close we'll eventually get to it again.  And the title of this post would lend one to think in terms of 23 days from Christmas Day.  But, it's hasn't been 23 days from Christmas if we do the math.  It's actually been just 13 days.  So, where is he coming up with 23 days?  I'm looking at 23 days from the Sandy Hook Tragedy.  The shock and sorrow of it's occurrence hasn't left me yet.  We returned to school this week and seeing the faces of the kindergartners in the room I'm assigned to has brought it all home.  I think of the parents of those 20 children so mercilessly slaughtered in what they so innocently believed was a safe haven, creates for me such a moral injustice that defies description.  I think of their worlds so disrupted in the blink of an eye, the stir of a moment, and how they're defining life (and death) in these last 23 days.  But life is a continuum and not matter what direction it occurs, they're sorrow and grief has been confirmed.  Words of consolation, prayer, discussion, and the absence of their children unfortunately does not minimize what has happened.  It's only been 23 days.  When my best friend died several years ago, I attempted to  chronicle his death by defining it in terms of the days since he had died.....10 days.....25 days.....60 days....  It was a bleak register of telling myself when that grief had occurred and how my life was progressing (or not) from it.  And even to this day, I can think in terms of Feb. 15, 2011 or Aug. 16, 2011 at being well over 800 days.  And while the time has certainly left me, the sadness and it's impact on me has not.  I think of these parents and how they may look upon next Dec. 14th, 2013 with the misery and anguish they will come to feel then; and not just on that day, but how they will discern this each day of their lives.

I know there has been an out pouring of compassionate and empathetic response for these families and the community of Newtown.  Here's mine.

A SOALIN'

It has been several years since I last decorated my house at Christmas.  The last two years were somewhat beleaguered and the mood wasn't supported by general festivities that usually accompany Yuletide joy.  However, I felt somewhat intimidated by neighbors efforts at fun and frolic this season so I joined in the decorative spirit.  The practice of putting up decorations at Christmas has a long and storied past.  In the 15th Century, London custom showed every house to be "decked with holm, or ivy," (hence, where we get the song "Deck the Halls with boughs of ivy") and the custom of putting lights on our homes, it is thought to have originated with a Roman Emperor who was of the Invictus Sol religion which worships the sun, and the winter Solstice was their greatest celebration.  Many cultures that were subject to deep darkness and cold, would light candles, or build fires, bonfires to lend strength to the waning power of light....to help light triumph over darkness.  The idea of putting a candle or light in each window lends to the Judaeo/Christian belief that Christ as the light of the world will triumph over evil or sin.  The time frame when the lights will come down was typically the 12th Night after Christmas or Jan. 5th.  So, I guess I have until the weekend to decide.  I know as I look about my neighborhood, that most of the lights on homes have already come down, but there are a few of us "holdouts".  

I'm also including in this post one of my favorite Christmas tales.  Well, it's not exactly a Christmas tale but a traditional English song popularized by Peter, Paul, and Mary.  The song is called "A Soalin'" and the soul cake was traditionally made for All Saints Day or All Souls Day to celebrate the dead.  The "cakes" were simply referred to as "souls"and were given out by mourners-typically children and the poor would go from door to door, not on Christmas, but on Halloween singing and praying for the dead.  Each cake eaten would represent a soul being freed from Purgatory.  This practice of giving and eating of the soul cakes is often referred to as the origin of Trick or Treating.  The video I've posted here is the version where Paul does his now famous comedy routine about American children and their "custom" of trick or treating.  Enjoy

357 Days Until Christmas or Wed. Night-Jan. 2, 2013

As I sit down at the "pearlie whites" and get into a fierce debate with myself about what to write for my next blog post, I question my rationale in how long I'll be able to keep up this pace in keeping this Christmas theme in my posts.  The local radio stations have abandoned the Christmas music already.  Odd in that most of them started their "theme" music just before Thanksgiving.  I always scoffed at this as I tended to bastardize this idea believing it would become ad nauseam far to early and that by the time Dec. 25th rolled around, listening to "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" would lead most of us, including me, into serious reflection on how much cymbalta it would take to bring us back to reality.     And surprisingly, (at least this year), I haven't felt that way at all.  In fact, I continue to listen to several of the Christmas CD's I made as they're in my car CD player.  I mentioned in a previous post that a couple of songs have or are my favorite Christmas tunes, "My Grown Up Christmas List", "Where Are You Christmas?", and "Mary Did You Know?".  And the theme or message in these songs aren't just for this time of year, but for the remainder of the year as well.  I think of the words in Grown Up Christmas List and how can one not be absorbed by the words, "not for myself, but for a world in need", no more lives torn apart, that wars would never start", or as Faith Hill charms us with, "where are you Christmas, why can't I find you, why have you gone away?" Christmas doesn't have to change as long as we validate in ourselves that this spirit must refuse to die.  "Christmas is here, everywhere, Christmas is here if you care, if there is love in your heart and your mind, you will feel like Christmas all the time".  This is the theme I refuse to let go.  Whether I'm 357 days until Christmas, or 45 days until Christmas.  I know this particular post is very similar to my post a few days ago as I use this same song.  For me, it's about the impassioned precept of not just a world where we can live in peace, but in your neighborhood, your workplace, your home. Please join with me in sharing this love with each other.  In light of the horrific tragedies that occurred so close to Christmas this past year, or even the shameful behavior of our governing bodies, I think of all people-Rodney King may have said it best, "Can we all get along"?