Christmas and Other Musings…

So here we are again. Another Christmas season. Time to get out the decorations and get festive. It’s also time to remember our past Christmases, and as I remember, some of them were better than others. So, here are some of the more amusing memories from my past and a few other unrelated musings for you to enjoy.

All the kids were anxious to finally get to see Santa at the mall. The line was down to just two kids ahead of my nephew. As we approached the plush velvet chair all decorated with garland and ribbons, the cute 7-year-old boy ahead of us smiled from ear to ear and jumped up onto Santa’s lap. “And what is your name, young fella”? Santa asked. “I’m Roger,” he replied excitedly. “Well, Roger, have you been naughty this year?” Roger’s smile melted from his tiny face and he grew silent. Santa, anxious to get to the next kid, put his hand on Roger’s head and turned it slightly to face his. Roger took a deep breath and blurted out, “Well Santa, can you define naughty?” My nephew and I just started laughing out loud.

Don’t you hate it some days when things go wrong all at once? Today the tire light on my dashboard lit up for no reason. The older lady in front of me in the 5-items-or-less lane at the grocery store decided to pay for her $13.00 purchase to the cashier with nickels and dimes. Then, to top it off, I was just about done with my haircut, when I remembered that my 50%-off coupon was still sitting at home on my dresser and it expires today. Life can be cruel, they say, but they also say that you can’t simply sprinkle sugar on horse shit and make it a cupcake.

I was about 9 years old, it was Christmas break from school, and I went over to my friend Chris’ house to play. Chris and I were getting a little loud playing with our Tonka trucks and army men in his living room, when his mom came in and told us, “Quiet down or else!” She went back to the kitchen, then came back a few minutes later to scold us once again, as we were getting quite a bit louder than before. She just stood there and stared at us, while we froze in place. Just then, she walked over to the Christmas tree, grabbed a wrapped gift from under it, stomped over to the blazing fireplace, and threw the gift into the flames. We both stood there with our mouths wide open… stunned. She turned to walk away and then said, “There are still three more of your gifts under that tree young man!”

We found out later that those gifts were stuffed with trash to use as props for their yearly Christmas card.

I generally don’t get into deep conversations with friends or family about such things as politics or religion, for good reasons. But that doesn’t stop people from always asking me if I “believe”. So I just answer, “Yes, I’m spiritual.” And they go, “Demons are spirits too; can you be more specific?” I have no answer for that!

Even if you work for a small company with a dozen or so employees, there is usually one person in that group that you don’t quite get along with most of the time. For whatever reason, you two just don’t click, and that’s okay. It was that way for me with Ray, the warehouse manager.

A couple of Christmases ago, a co-worker came into my cubicle and asked me if I was going to the company Christmas party on Saturday. I looked up to see Ray standing there. My quick and witty response was, “I already spend 40 hours a week pretending to like you… let’s not push it.” We haven’t spoken in 18 months.

A long time ago, I remember getting my very first apartment. It was an exciting time for me, as I was gaining my independence and learning how to live on my own. The holidays were approaching, and I was anxious to do some decorating to get into the spirit of the season. One Friday evening after work I put up the tree, decorated the fake fireplace, trimmed the two windows with lights and garland, and after all that I was still a bit restless. And, would you believe it, my downstairs neighbor was knocking at my door at 2:30 A.M. Luckily, I was still up playing my accordion.

I invited one of my friends over for coffee the other day. Connie is very religious. We sat down in the living room, and I brought in a cup of coffee and set it down on the coffee table in front of her. She immediately opened her purse and took out her white gloves. She picked up the coffee cup and saucer and proceeded to wipe off the table of accumulated dust before setting her coffee back down, while giving me a sort of snide look. She put her glove back into her purse and looked at me once again. I calmy looked back at her and said, “We come from DUST and we’ll return to DUST… that’s why I don’t dust. It could be someone I know.”

Christmas shopping at Walmart is always a live theatrical production for the eyes. There’s the middle-aged woman with curlers in her hair, wearing elf pajamas and slippers when it’s 30 degrees outside. There’s the overweight, wrinkled, 60-year-old man wearing only a Santa hat and a skimpy Santa speedo in aisle 15; again when it’s below freezing outside. Then we have the very voluptuous 50-year-old with her ta-ta’s literally “hanging out” up front, and who definitely needs a sign on her backside saying “Wide Load”, stocking up on boxes of Little Debbie’s snack cakes. I know I might not be a “10” at the beach, but here at Walmart, I’m a solid “8”.

Even though I am retired, I still dream of that one morning when I will wake up and find a well dressed footman standing there next to my bed, with a silver tray and saying, “Your Royal Highness, here is your morning mimosa.” It’s good to have lavish desires sometimes.

Nothing says Christmas like candy canes. Every year, we would haul out the multitude of boxes marked “XMAX STUFF” and carefully place 20-year-old German-made ornaments on the tree, along with plastic “Sputnik” ones, and boxes and boxes of “Shiny Brite” traditional colored-glass bulbs. Then came the 2 or 3 boxes of wrapped candy canes. No, these were not fresh from K-Mart candy canes; these were our “recycled” canes from years past that got packed away every January along with the rest of the decorations. Well, all except for that one year when the candy canes started disappearing from the tree one by one, until the entire lot of 36 canes was gone. No one really caught on until that last week of December, when empty cellophane wrappers and peppermint crumbs started to be found under beds, in sock drawers, and in lunch pails. There was no “fessing up” or truth telling by anyone. The good thing was that Mom took advantage of those 50 – 75% after-Christmas mark downs that were everywhere. Of course, we kids had to wait another full year to re-steal them off the tree again.

You all know that saying, “Peace on Earth”. It’s somewhat true, but there is also another saying that says, “If you want to find true peace, don’t get married.” Think about this. The reason “Mayberry” was so peaceful and quiet, was because no one was married. Andy, Aunt Bee, Barney, Floyd, Howard, Goober, Gomer, Sam, Helen, Thelma Lou, Clara, and Opie — all single. Otis was the only one in the town who was married, but he stayed drunk throughout the entire 249 episodes.

I love Christmas because of all the wonderful baked goods that you can buy during the season. I love the homemade stuff too. I love to make some Italian goodies like carnival cookies, chocolate cake rolls, and peppermint fudge. Pizzelle are also fun to make, and delicious with a cup of cocoa or espresso. So my gym buddies tell me, “You have to eat better,” and I get depressed and go out and buy a bag of salad fixins’. After 2 days, the salad turns all brown and soggy. Cookies don’t do that!

The holidays, for the most part, are happy times. But not always. There is still a lot of stress to deal with, and some of us handle it better than others. I have 4 distinct Christmas moods. The first one is “CALM”. This is the one where you are at home, sitting on the couch, smelling the fresh scent of pine from the tree or the vanilla scented candle burning on the mantle, while listening to the instrumental versions of carols by the London Symphony Orchestra.

The second one is “IRATE”. This is the one you get when you’re out Christmas shopping, you’re driving down the main street of town, and you get 10 RED traffic lights in a row. Or, when you finally decided to get your best friend those Apple ear buds he’s always wanted, but every Apple store you drove to within 50 miles of home is sold out. And gas is once again 5 bucks a gallon. No amount of spiked eggnog will fix this one.

The third one is AGITATED. You’re genuinely pissed, because the prices of everything are outrageous, and your budget is already strained. You’re overworked at work and under appreciated at home, and no amount of peppermint tea will get you out of that mood except perhaps winning the lottery and that, dear friends, is a very long shot.

And finally number 4 is ENRAGED. Let’s just say that if you ever get to this stage during the holidays, you are going to need some duct tape, some rope, and a shovel — and maybe bail money!

All of the kids in my family loved decorating the Christmas tree. Most times it was a joy to see all 9 of us working together to make it a festive time. The only thing that caused a rift, was which one of us got to put the star on top. This always started a big fight. So, after about 15 minutes of arguing, throwing tinsel, popcorn and stuffed animals at each other, Mom would come in and intervene. She would start off by making us all feel guilty by telling us, “If you’re gonna kill each other, do it outside… I just finished cleaning the floor.” That wouldn’t be the end of it, because the star-putting wasn’t settled. After another round of bickering and throwing stuff, mom walked back into the living room, dragging poor old 6’2″ Warren Coffee from next door with her. She calmy placed the star in his hand and he placed it on the tree, and then he quickly walked out.

A few weeks before Christmas, I spotted my little sister in her room staring out the window. I came in and asked her what she was doing, as I thought she was prematurely looking for Santa. She said no, she was wishing upon a star. So, being the smart, sophisticated brother that I was, I casually mentioned that she was actually a few million years too late… those stars were already dead… just like her dreams. That didn’t sit well with her. She reached over to her dresser, grabbed her fully army-dressed Ken action figure, and smacked me across the head with it. Moral of the story: don’t ever squash your sister’s dreams.

It’s one week before Christmas and there you are, circling the mall parking lot for an empty space. You are already 25 minutes into circling and are probably going to need to take an Uber to the mall entrance, since you are parked in western Kansas by now. Suddenly, you see a spot opening up! You sneak up behind the car pulling out, but you are not sure which direction they will turn the car to exit. You plot your move, they back out in front of you, and then a tiny Chevy Volt zooms in from the other direction and takes your spot. You just sit there in awe. You know a thank you goes a long way, but I always thank my middle finger for always sticking up for me when I need it.

Well, I’m finished decorating. Time to put on a soothing Christmas music album, light a vanilla candle, sip a cup of hot cocoa, and relax in the scent of my artificial pine tree. And so I choose mood number 1. I’ll save the duct tape, rope, and shovel for another year.

Merry Christmas to all of my devoted followers here on Word Press. Thanks for supporting my blog and keep those comments coming.

Buon Natale’

Lenny