Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

« home page
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

“Seeing isn’t believing. Believing is seeing.”

December 5, 2015

Today is sunny and warm and in the high 40’s. Tomorrow will be even warmer. Where is Old Man Winter? Is he biding his time only to sneak up and wallop us as he did last winter? I will not let my guard down. Should it snow, I’ll be ready.

Santa Claus and his peculiarities were cause for so many questions. My mother, however, always had the answers. We didn’t have a fireplace so we were worried as to how Santa would get in to leave all the toys. Santa is magical my mother explained, and he always finds a way inside. How does he transport so many toys in one bag? That one is easy. His bag never empties and whatever he needs he finds inside. The size or weird shapes of the toys never matter. How do reindeer fly? That too has a touch of magic about it. Santa uses something like fairy dust and it gives the reindeer the ability to fly. I never thought to ask where the dust came from, but I’m sure my mother had an answer ready just in case I did. How does he eat all those cookies and drink all that milk? All the ups and downs and ins and outs make him hungry so he takes just a wee bite and a small sip at every stop. The reindeer hungrily eat all the carrots.

When my nephew was nine, he was wavering about Santa. Did he exist or not? He asked his mother for a favor. When he had kids of his own, would she please tell him everything he needed to know about Santa and toys and Christmas. My sister assured him she would.

I don’t remember how old I was when I figured out Santa wasn’t real. It wasn’t all that traumatic, and I didn’t blame my parents for perpetuating a myth. My two younger sisters still believed so I never let on what I knew. That would have been selfish.

One of the best parts of Christmas is always the anticipation. Even knowing the truth didn’t diminish my excitement. I still feel that way.

Categories: Musings
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Comments: 15 Comments

“This is the message of Christmas: We are never alone.”

December 4, 2015

Today is lovely. The air is still, the sky a light blue and the sun winter bright. It is in the 40’s, colder than yesterday but warmer than last night. It hasn’t yet been winter cold, the sort which takes your breath away. I’m glad for the reprieve.

When I watch TV programs supposedly taking place in winter, I always look for breath. In the one from the other night, a Hallmark Christmas movie, snow was in piles on the ground and the characters were bundled as if for an Arctic expedition but there was no breath. It was a fake, a movie winter, but I wasn’t taken in by the trappings of a Hollywood winter. I know cold.

I remember watching One Magic Christmas, a Disney movie where winter is real. Some key scenes take place at night. When the characters walk, you can hear the sound of crunching snow. Under the shine of the streetlights, you can see their breaths. Everywhere is snow: on the ground, piled on the sides of the road and in front of houses. It is really winter. I appreciated that.

In Bolgatanga, in Ghana, Christmas takes place during the harmattan when winds blow sand from the Sahara, the days are brutally hot and the nights cold. The first year there I was twenty-two and had never been away from home at Christmas. I tried not to think about it. My mother, however, saved the day. She sent me a package by air to guarantee a delivery before Christmas. The postage was a small fortune. My aunt helped fill the package and was nice enough to pay half of the postage. When I opened the box, it was filled with Christmas. I’ll never forget that box. It had a small artificial tree, some new ornaments and some from the family tree, cookie cutters, some sprinkles for the sugar cookies, small  stockings to hang from the fireplace paper also in the package and a few small wrapped presents to put under the tree.

I learned how to make sugar cookies that year. I spent Christmas Eve with friends at my house where we had a small party. We sang Christmas carols, ate Guinea fowl, yam chips, donuts and sweet balls of coconut. The sugar cookies were the big hit. I had even decorated them. That Christmas is one of my all time favorites.

Categories: Musings
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Comments: 18 Comments

“Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas.”

December 3, 2015

Today is warm for December, in the mid-50’s. The sun comes in and out from behind grey clouds. A small breeze ruffles the few leaves left on the oak trees.

My den is filled with bags and packages. Tonight I will begin wrapping the Colorado gifts so they can be sent. I’m hoping I can finish by Monday. The good thing is no ribbons on the packages as the cats are prone to eat them.    I’ve even caught Fern munching.

When I was a kid, we had Advent wreaths, four candles set around a small decorated wreath which my mother always placed on the living room table. Three of the candles were purple and one was white or sometimes pink. Each Sunday in Advent one of the candles was lit. The odd color was for Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, the halfway point until Christmas. I can see the wreath in my mind’s eye. We’d all surround it and take a turn lighting the candles. I know there were specific prayers read from a card, but I have no memory of what they were or even who read them. I just remember the wreath and the candles.

Our house was always decorated. The picture window had snowflakes and stars from stencils and spray on white snow from a can. The Christmas cards were taped around the archway leading to the kitchen. Those were the days of Christmas cards. There were so many the mailman came twice. My mother would let us open them then she’d dutifully mark received on the index cards in the metal Christmas card file box. I remember the box had a green background and white trees and stars. Each year my mother would send cards to the names and addresses in the box and check sent when she did. If none were received back for two or three years, cards were no longer sent to them.

Cardboard Santas were taped on the walls and silver tinsel was hung around windows, but the centerpiece was always the tree. I remember crawling under it to plug in the lights which were big, different colors and burned hot. I also remember so many plugs attached one on top of the other I wonder how we avoided an electrical fire.

I always remember wonder when I think of Christmas as I was growing up. My memories are filled with colors and Christmas carols and wrapped presents under the tree. I remember all the Christmas cookie cutters and decorating sugar cookie Santas, trees, bells and reindeer. It was my mother who brought Christmas magic and gave us all the memories.

Categories: Musings
Tags: , , , , , ,

Comments: 10 Comments

“…freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin – inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night…”

December 1, 2015

Today is a dreary day with dark grey clouds and maybe some rain this afternoon. We can look forward to that forecast for the next three days. It is that same storm which dropped snow and left ice all over the Midwest. We are too warm for the snow and ice for which I am thankful.

So many houses are already lit for Christmas that any ride is a light ride. Last night I took a few side roads on my way home from getting bread and dinner. Many houses have gone all out this year, and there are more colored lights than in other years. They always remind me of my childhood.

I miss my parents and still think to grab the phone to call my mother even after ten years, but it is Christmas time when I miss her the most. My sisters and I laugh and say my mother cursed us with the Christmas bug. We all put lights outside, still buy real trees and have enough decorations for several living rooms. My mother used to say no more decorations then she’d see something amazing and just have to buy it. She’d laugh and tell us she could decorate for years and never repeat ornaments or decorations from year to year.

My childhood tree sat in the corner which usually housed the TV console. It was connected by wires to the windows because it sometimes fell down, being heavier than the stand could hold. I remember holding it up by the trunk while my father attached the wires. I hated that job as I always had branches sticking in my face because I was reaching through the branches to the trunk of the tree.

When we decorated, my mother always put the really big glass ornaments around the top branches as those were her fancy ornaments, and she was afraid we’d break them. I have one of those ornaments and, of course,  it goes up top. Those trees of my childhood had bare spots between the branches, and we’d put things like the Coca Cola Santa and a few cards we kept from year to year in the middle of the bare spots.

When we were older, my mother always bought the most gorgeous trees. It was a joke between her and my father. He’d ask the price of the tree, and my mother would say $20 or $25 when it was really $40 or more. My aunt would visit and remark on how beautiful the tree was, and my father would tell her $20.00 knowing full well my mother had paid much more. My aunt always scoffed at my father. That was part of the fun.

Categories: Musings
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Comments: 26 Comments

“He had mittens, Minjekahwun, Magic mittens made of deer-skin; When upon his hands he wore them, He could smite the rocks asunder, He could grind them into powder”

November 30, 2015

Today is cloudy and in the 40’s which I still consider warm for this time of year. A sweatshirt is enough for me. I suppose if I were outside for a long time, I’d probably have to wear my winter jacket which sees little action most years. I do keep gloves in the car just in case, but I prefer mittens. They keep my fingers warmer. My pink ones are my favorites. They brighten even the darkest winter’s day.

When I was a kid and outside for a long stretch, the snow would stick to my wool mittens which would get so heavy with balls of snow the front would sag under the weight. It was time to go and trade. My mother kept pairs of mittens handy in case we wanted dry ones. She’d take our wet mittens, remove as much snow as she could and then put them on the radiators to dry. She also kept mittens without a mate just in case the mate appeared. If worse came to worse, we’d wear unmatched mittens. Fashion was never an issue.

Sometimes we got mittens in our stockings. My mother would buy them at church fairs where there was always a table of handmade goods. The women, always my grandmother’s age, sat behind the tables chit chatting. Every now and then one would get up to sell something or to rearrange the table. When I started buying stocking stuffers for my niece and nephews, that table was always my first stop. I swear the same old ladies were sitting behind it chatting.

Today is a day to get things done. I have a wash sitting in the hall, another load in the dryer where it’s been for a week and I have some errands to do. My larder is bare. Last night it was eggs and toast, a favorite dinner of mine, but not for two or three nights in a row. I am definitely thinking mashed potatoes and some kind of meat. Maybe I’ll go comfort food and cook meatloaf. Add peas, and that’s perfect dinner for me.

Categories: Musings
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Comments: 13 Comments

“Alas! How dreary would be the world if there was no Santa Claus!… There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.”

November 29, 2015

Well, I did get some names crossed off my list from shopping yesterday. I mostly went to shops in Dennis. They were filled with people. In one small shop the whole crowd walked in a single line counterclockwise as the aisles were so narrow. It was like being on a chain-gang. I figured we all should be singing the Sam Cooke song. Stopping to look made it even worse as it caused a traffic bottleneck. But despite the line, this hearty shopper managed to spend a lot of money there because their stuff was unique. I even found some wonderful stocking stuffers. I would have spent more time roaming except it was too crowded, and I could hear Gracie barking out the car window.

When I got home, I carried in my bags, checked my e-mail then I napped, a long nap. Shopping is fun but exhausting. Today I will do my laundry and call it an industrious day. I will watch the Patriots and hope all their injuries won’t have as giant an impact as we all fear.

The weather has been amazing. Yesterday was 58˚ degrees despite the rain. Today is 42˚, still too warm for the end of November. The sun is shining. It’s a pretty day.

On the first day of December we got to open door one on the Advent calendar. We all took turns otherwise we’d end up fighting about it: his turn, my turn, she did it yesterday sort of squabbling. That drove my mother crazy. Taking turns usually worked though we did argue on who would be first to open a door. I always said I should be as I was the oldest. My sister said she was the youngest so she should open it. Most times it ended up being me. For everything else we did wrong, my mother would pull out the Santa card. She’d remind us there were two lists and nobody wanted to be on the naughty one. Sometimes if we still didn’t stop misbehaving, she’d tell us we each had just lost one present. Santa sees everything. That subdued us for a while.

I once gave my sister a Santa report card to use with my nephew. He’d get gold stars or black stars in the columns underneath things like brushed his teeth, obeyed his parents or cleaned up his toys. My sister when forced to give him a black star would remind him Santa would see his report card because it was going to be left under the tree on Christmas Eve. Usually he’d start to cry and beg her not to it. He’d swear he was going to be good, and most times he was. That report card to Santa was the best motive ever to be nice.

Categories: Musings
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Comments: 10 Comments

“Did you ever notice that life seems to follow certain patterns? Like I noticed that every year around this time, I hear Christmas music.”

November 28, 2015

I know, I know. This has gone a bit too far. First she takes off every Wednesday and now she’s maybe begging off for today. What’s next?

I will try to post late this afternoon, but now I’ve got to get in gear to do a million or so errands. Gracie is excited as the dump tops the list. Because we didn’t go last week, the trunk is filled. My objective is to empty it then fill it again with good stuff, Christmas season stuff.

The day is warm but it’s spitting rain giving my little world a dreary look, but I figure nothing bolsters spirits better than a few purchases or maybe several.

I swear I’ll try and get back to Coffee a bit later.

 

Categories: Musings

Comments: 12 Comments

“When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things — not the great occasions — give off the greatest glow of happiness.”

November 27, 2015

Dinner was wonderful. The plate was tottering under the weight of all the food. There was even enough to bring home for me to have leftovers tonight, a whole meal of leftovers.

The restaurant was already lit for the festive season, and on the drive home we also saw houses bright with lights, some in white and others multi-colored. I always feel like a kid when it comes to Christmas lights. Even alone in the car I ooh and aah. Every year I take Gracie, and we go on a see the lights trip, just as I did with my family when I was growing up. I remember my brother was at one back seat window, and I was at the other. We’d yell out, “There’s another one,” and all heads would swivel to see the house. We had favorite houses and favorite streets. A few streets in Saugus had a neighborhood competition. All the houses were bright with strings of colored lights from those large outside bulbs we had when I was a kid. The colors were true and they were beautiful. We’d drive through the streets with our mouths wide in wonder. Nobody had to say a word as every house was lit. Our heads went back and forth quickly so we wouldn’t miss a thing.

My hometown fire station had a Santa climbing a ladder to the top of the bell tower. The town hall down the street from the fire station was out-lined in lights. The square had lights strung across the main street from building to building. One house, a couple of blocks from mine, had the whole house outlined in lights including every window and door. Lights also ran across the top of the fence surrounding their yard. I remember they had collies running in the yard. My dad decorated the bushes in the front of the house, and we had Christmas lights in the windows, the ones you turned on and off by twisting the bulbs. If I close my eyes, I can see the picture window with a light on each side and a light with five bulbs in the middle. I remember the bulbs were orange.

I was always excited to see those lights they were the signal that Christmas was creeping nearer and nearer.

Categories: Musings
Tags: , , ,

Comments: 20 Comments

“The most fortunate are those who have a wonderful capacity to appreciate again and again, freshly and naively, the basic goods of life, with awe, pleasure, wonder and even ecstasy.”

November 26, 2015

I am reposting last year’s Thanksgiving musings. They can’t be bettered. There is, however, one change. We are going out to eat. I’ll have to dress for dinner. Yesterday I made my chocolate pie. My sister made her chocolate pie as well as her other pies. My other sister literally had to stuff her huge turkey into the roasting pan. It just fit.

I always think a day set aside for giving thanks has to be the best of all days.

Thanksgiving is the least adorned holiday of them all. We don’t buy each other presents or decorate the house. There are no new outfits in spring colors. The highlight of the day is dinner and being together around the table as a family related by blood or friendship. Of all the holidays, it is the one in which we all share so much in common. Traditional dishes unique to each family are served but so are turkey and mashed potatoes, stuffing and gravy and all those pies. It is the time for us to remember the people we love who are no longer with us and to appreciate the ones who are. We give thanks for the good in our lives, the food on our tables and the glory of every day. We talk together and laugh together at dinner. We pass the rolls, the green bean casserole and the canned cranberry sauce with the ribbing. We eat until we can eat no more. We finish by doing some cleaning up then relaxing in the living room until we have some room for dessert.

This morning I will watch the parade, the same as I have done as long I can remember. I’ll talk to my sisters to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. I won’t dress fancy for Thanksgiving, none of us really do. I’ll sit with my friends and enjoy every part of the day. I am thankful for the life I have been lucky enough to live, for the people I love and the people who love me.

I am thankful for all of you, my Coffee family.

Categories: Musings
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Comments: 22 Comments

“My favorite meal is turkey and mashed potatoes. I love Thanksgiving, it’s just my favorite. I can have Thanksgiving all year round.”

November 24, 2015

Today is a sunny day but not a warm, sunny day. Gracie’s ears are always cold when she comes back inside the house. There is hardly any breeze, and only the tips of the dead leaves on the smallest branches move. The summer sun warms us while today’s sun, the deep fall sun, only gives us light.

My hand is still swollen, but I am back to my two fingered typing. When I went to get the papers this morning, I walked gingerly on the brick walkway, the site of yesterday’s fall. All went well.

Just before Thanksgiving never had the excitement of just before Christmas. In school we colored turkeys and cut out construction paper turkey tails we’d later glue to our papers though a few usually ended up stuck to our fingers. I hadn’t ever seen a real turkey, just pictures of one. My turkeys came in a package and were usually frozen. My mother always bought a huge turkey which fed us endlessly after the holiday. She’d put it in the blue, enamel roasting pot then into the oven where it would cook for hours. She’d baste it with its own juices, and she’d sneak a bit of the stuffing, the crusty part sticking out of the turkey. My mother made the best stuffing. The secret, but not such a big secret here in New England, was the Bell’s seasoning, which my sister and I still use. It comes in a small yellow box with a turkey on the front and is a combination of rosemary, oregano, sage, ginger, and marjoram. My mother would cook the onion and celery in butter then pour it on the bread, add milk and finally the Bell’s. I used to try to sneak a bit of the seasoned bread before it even went into the bird. It was delicious.

The house on Thanksgiving smelled the best it ever smelled. Every time my mother opened the oven more of that aroma would spread into the air and fill all of our senses. The turkey, when it was finished, was a beautifully browned masterpiece. My father always carved. He’d ask us what we wanted. We always said the white meat. When I was much older, I realized the dark meat was the best, moist and tasty. My father always took a leg. He’d cut what he could then he’d pick up the leg and eat the rest of the meat. When he was done, the leg was stripped clean, only bones and cartilage were left on the plate.

Categories: Musings
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Comments: 14 Comments

« Older Entries
Newer Entries »