Five More Sleeps

There are officially five (5) more sleeps until Christmas day. This will be my 61st Christmas and I am sad to say, that like everyone else in the world, I have often let the commercialism of the holiday, override The Reason for the Season. I guess it is all part of living in an ever-growing secular world, where things have become more important than the true reason we celebrate Christmas. Like most things, it's not rocket science. The purpose of December 25th is quite simply spelled out for us in the name...Christ-mas, but apparently even in all of its simplicity, we still forget. But I digress. 

So as a kid, my parents if not on the same page with anything else, always had a cease fire during Christmas and we always celebrated Christmas together as a family. Yes I know, we were a strange bunch, and trust me, my divorced parent's weird relationship was never lost on me. 

The first Christmas that I actually remember was in "the horrible house." I must have been about 6 or 7 and I was sick. Really sick. I had the flu and the pictures of me that Christmas show that I looked like walking death. I was pale and my eyes were dark. I looked awful and I imagine I felt awful too, but I don't remember that. 

That Christmas, my not-so-adoring grandma, and my always-adoring grandpa came to our house Christmas Eve. Mom and Dad were either together at the time or at the very least, together for the evening. For most of my life, we always celebrated Christmas on Christmas morning, but for whatever reason, that year it was on Christmas Eve. I have glimpses of memory of my grandma telling me I looked awful (duh, I was sick) and my grandpa trying to make me smile. Our little Christmas tree was in our den area and Mom told me that I needed to go to my room and play for a while. I must have felt bad enough to be compliant, and in a bit, I was called back out, to find that during my time in my room, Santa had arrived. I remember being upset that I had missed him. If only I had not been so compliant. 

The only gift I remember getting that year was a doll that was about three and a half feet tall. She was nearly as tall as me. She had some kind of mechanism in her that if you held her hand, she could kinda, sorta walk with you. I must have liked her a lot (although my history with dolls is long and sorted and a story for another time). I had that doll for many years, and during that time I gussied her up a bit, at one point cutting her bangs to a very fashionable (NOT), one-quarter of an inch. Not to worry though, later in her life, my brother Andy got a hold of her and appropriated the Native American culture all over her face. He also had a Native American kid's headdress that he adorned her with. He thought her a masterpiece, but looking back I think one, he watched too many westerns, and two if it happened now, he would most definitely have been canceled. 

The next year was another Christmas Eve celebration, this time at my grandparent's house. I was not sick this particular year and along with us, Aunt May, Uncle Eldrid and Nancy were all there. I remember this being a fun Christmas because Nancy was there and I got an entire Barbie Kitchen. It was teal and gold and I loved it. I played with it for years. 

A bittersweet Christmas that I remember was my grandpa's last Christmas. He was dying from prostate cancer and to keep him from being put in "a home" in his last months, my mom took him in. Yes, my mom and dad were long divorced by this time, but being the strange family that we were, Mom turned the guest bedroom into my grandpa's room and had a hospital bed brought in. When Grandpa came to live with us, so did my dad and grandma. It was a really strange setup, and definitely a story for another time, but we had Grandpa one last Christmas. 

Grandpa's bedroom was upstairs (we no longer lived in the horrible house), and he never came downstairs, except for that Christmas day. Aunt May and Nancy came over, (Uncle Eldrid had sadly passed by then), and our house was full. Having all the people there seemed to make it festive and having Grandpa there, sitting down in the living room and opening gifts with us, made it beyond special. 

I was about 11 this particular Christmas and even I could tell how hard coming down those stairs had been for him, but we listened to Christmas music and opened gifts and I remember knowing that this would never happen again. I was not wrong. 

When we moved to Mulvane, Mom became Christmas-obsessed. She would start the day after Thanksgiving, and it would take her a full week to decorate. She had someone make her an eight-foot manger and the outside was decorated with a beautiful lighted nativity. On the inside, however, it looked like how I always imagined Santa's house would look. We had decorations that dated back to the 50s and every year Mom got more. She also saved every toothpaste box Santa, and Christmas artwork masterpiece that Andy and I brought home from school. Every cabinet, wall, stairway, and end table was covered in everything from the beautiful to the gaudy. 

Our windows had Santa and a mix of mechanical dolls that moved, peering out. Our tree was always 8.5 feet and had every available inch covered with bulbs....and this is where my complete and total dislike for Christmas decorating came into play. Early on, I wanted to help decorate and was so excited to help with the tree, but after breaking several of Mom's (prized) bulbs, my services were no longer needed or appreciated. IF she dared let me help, it was under close supervision which took all of my creativity away. Because of Mom's extreme Christmas OCD, rather than fighting with me, she started decorating the tree while I was at school. Guess what? I didn't care! If the tree got decorated and I didn't have to get yelled at in the process.....cool! Andy's decorating experiences with Mom were much different. I think he had the same love for the process that she did and he had a gentler spirit and touch when it came to her prized bulbs. 

The Christmas's we had in Mulvane, were always so fun. Maybe it was because we had finally found a place we truly called home, and we had friends and events that made the season amazing. I remember caroling with my friends, Christmas parties, and going to midnight Mass. On Christmas morning, my dad always showed up, and we unwrapped our gifts and then had Thanksgiving dinner all over again. It was here we grew up, grew as a family, and started many traditions that I still have today. 

My first Christmas which was abjectly sad for me, was the Christmas of 1983. I had lost the person that I considered the love of my life. We had plans for the future, we were in love, but then like happens with many young college romances, it was just over. My heart was broken and being my first love and my first heartbreak, I was beyond miserable. I remember very little of that Christmas other than I cried day and night. I am sure I was a joy for my family and that I made that Christmas oh-so-special for them too. 

As Andy and I grew up and moved away, we started our own families and traditions. On my first Christmas with my husband Tim, we had no money. I was pregnant with Zachary and a week before Christmas, we had no gifts under the tree. My older son Wesley heard me talking to Tim about how sad I was that we had nothing under the tree. He was a sweet soul at eight years old, and I walked into the living room to find that he had taken all of his stuffed animals and placed them under the tree. He said, "Now we have something under the tree." It looked beautiful and I had to leave the room to keep from bursting into tears in front of him. Miracle of miracles, Santa came through, as well as Tim's over time, and we were able to have a few gifts after all. 

The Christmas of 2000, David was in the NICU. He had been there for three months already and he had another two months to go. By Christmas, he was doing well and we were just working on him gaining enough weight to leave the hospital. Most of that season was spent going back and forth daily to the NICU, but we did break away long enough to have Christmas Eve with my mom and dad at Andy's house. 

The Christmas of 2001, I had just lost Tim, six months earlier. I can honestly say that I have no memory whatsoever of that Christmas. Then the Christmas of 2002, I lost my mom on December 22nd. The only thing that saved that Christmas for me was that my Uncle Pat and Aunt Rita were there. They had come to see my mom in the hospital, but she passed before they could get there. So instead of turning around and going back to MO to spend Christmas with their family, they stayed and helped heal our family. Their kids will never know how much their sacrifice of not spending Christmas with their parents meant to us. It is something that I will never forget. 

The Christmas of 2003, I was living back in my childhood home. It was the home that in so many ways had healed me as a child and miraculously, would heal me again as an adult. It is here where I, my kids, and now my grandkids have celebrated every Christmas since. Yes, I still hate decorating, but with a little help from my friends, it always gets done, and I always enjoy it when it is.

This year, my heart hurts as Andy is never too far from my mind, and it is to honor his memory that I was able to decorate this year. I think about him almost daily and I try to remember all of our childhood Christmas's with Mom and Dad and him and I. Christmas was always a high point for our family. 

I know we are not special this year. We have the same issues as everyone else. Money is tight if not non-existent, we are grieving, and we have stress, struggles, and speed bumps a plenty. We also have each other and one of the family's best gifts this Christmas is the upcoming birth of a new addition. Zachary and his girlfriend are going to be first-time parents in July. I also once again, get to see the joy and excitement of the season through my grandkid's eyes, and I am grateful that for another Christmas, we are here together, safe and sound. 

This year I have turned on the Christmas music and blared it daily (something I never do) and made my grandkids listen and learn. There is pretty much no Christmas song, old or new that they don't know. We have gone and looked at lights as a family, and started spending more time together doing fun things and enjoying each other's company. I think this year of all years, we are critically aware of how short life can be and just how fast time flies. 

I have also shut out the noise of the commercialism of the season and found myself looking towards both the crib and the cross more and more, and focusing on the birth of the Christ child. I think this alone has done more for my healing than anything else. 

So yeah five more sleeps and Christmas will be here, and as Christmas's go, I hope that the kids and grandkids remember this one, for the music, the laughter, and the fact that we were once again given the gift of being together and sharing the joy and memories of not just the day, but also, all the days leading up to it. After all, not everyone gets the miracle that we have as a family. 

I want to wish any of you who read this, a very Merry Christmas. I hope your heart is wrapped up in the beautiful Christmas Season and that you can share love and joy with your own families.

Happy Birthday baby Jesus.

Until next time.....

A Gargoyle....Put on a Santa Hat

Well, it goes without saying that 2020 had its challenges. It was a year that most of us had never seen the likes of, and one that most of us hope has no repeats any time soon. 

Going into 2021, we are seeing some carryover of the last year into the new one, and currently, my neck of the woods is seeing extreme cold. Add to that, some personal struggles my family is undergoing, and I am right now, not in a great headspace. To be exact, Resting Bitch Face could be not only my name but also my current real-world description. Ain't no one wants to be around RBF today. 

Perhaps because of my current outlook, I need a little writing therapy and while going through some past ideas, I found the perfect subject to write about. 

As I stated, 2020 had us all on edge and for many, it seemed to give license to "showing our butts" as my mother-in-law always likes to say. While many have kept their "butt showing" to social media on politics, COVID, and anything else that ticked them off, others have sported their tidy whities right out in public. So this blog piece is about a "Karen" neighbor in Ohio, who decided to show her butt when a fellow neighbor took to decorating her front porch in her own special Christmas style. 

Somewhere back in early December 2020, I was all but ignoring FB, because I was just sick of people. One day though, I was looking up something and I happened upon a FB post about of all things, a gargoyle. This gargoyle was not just any gargoyle though. His name was Frank. Now as gargoyles go, he was pretty ordinary, as he resided in Ohio, and he adorned (guarded) the front porch of one of the residents of their fair state. The porch was small and his presence was commanding, and since it was December, Franks owner (we will call her Franks Friend (FF) since I still don't know her name) decided to gussie Frank up for the holidays. I believe she gave him a Santa hat and scarf or something pretty low key like that. I mean why not? It was the Christmas season after all. 

Apparently, Franks festive look didn't sit right with everyone, and it wasn't long before an unnamed and apparently unknown neighbor (whom we will call "Karen," for obvious reasons) left a note on FF's front door, letting her know that Frank was not a proper Christmas decoration and that she and the neighborhood association did not approve. FF, being a woman after my own heart, decided that she and Frank would not allow a Karen to ruin their fun, so Frank was soon joined by other not classically Christmas friends. Karen, who seemed to think her word would be seen as law, was also not dissuaded as she continued to barrage FF with more notes of disapproval and threats of neighborhood action. The game was on. 

FF apparently found both the notes and Karen's outrage, amusing, and took to FB with a post telling the saga of Frank, Karen, and the ever-growing Christmas decorations on her small front porch. The post seemed to strike a note with everyone and within hours, her post was trending and she decided to give Frank the Christmas Gargoyle his very own FB page. It was a stroke of genius and within days, Frank had tens of thousands of followers. Frank's followers were treated to each new Christmas addition to the front porch and each new Karen outrage. People adored the creativity of each new Christmas porch friend and could hardly wait for Karen's next protest.  

Soon Franks Christmas friends included rats, skeletons, hippos, snowmen, a COVID virus, a character known as "the doc," nutcrackers, and many, many more. And with each addition, Karen became more incensed. It also became clear that Karen was probably not one of those who had stepped into the world of social media, as she seemed oblivious to the social media presence that Frank now held. It was also curious that she chose to quietly, under the mantle of dark, deliver her handwritten complaints about Franks holiday menagerie instead of blasting FF on FB like "normal" people do. 

As the saga continued, on occasion, FF would leave a message on the door for Karen to find. It usually humorously let Karen know that neither Frank nor FF were deterred by her nasty messages and that the fight for Christmas "Franks way," would continue on. It had also become quite apparent that Karen was alone in her complaining dislike, as FF never heard a word from the homeowners association. 

December continued on, and in a funny way, Frank and his porch friends seemed to have taken people's minds off the negative in the world and helped them to focus on something a little lighter. He also became a kind of anti-hero against all the "Karen's" in the world and all of those who kept telling us, "we have to do this," or "we can't do that." Through FF's act of defiance to Karen, she shared a bit of her rebellion with us all. 

As Christmas approached, people had started asking FF to start a public Amazon wish page, so that followers of Frank could help add to the front porch friends. FF could have done this and probably literally have caused Karen's head to explode, but instead, FF did the classiest thing I have ever seen. She said she could not take anyone's money like that, but what she did do was ask the 740,000+ fans and followers of the Frank the Christmas Gargoyle FB page, to give their money by sending donations to Foodbank, Inc, the local food bank in Ohio's Miami Valley. Within just a few hours, the food bank had received almost $50,000, and since, that amount has grown to almost $70,000. Frank, his front porch Christmas friends, FF, and even Karen, in spite of herself, had brought about a really great thing. 

After Christmas, Karen apparently had been made aware of Franks's FB page, all his many social media friends, and even her part in the mass charitable giving. She sent FF another note telling her that "they won," now could they please take down all the decorations. Not so fast...... FF, being the wise woman that she is, saw the ability for Frank to continue serving the local foodbank and those in need in Ohio. So now, Frank and friends are currently celebrating Valentine's day and spoiler alert.....Frank is in love. Frank is also preparing for Mardi Gras and St. Patty's day. My guess...Frank and friends have only just begun to celebrate in 2021, and we are going to be seeing a lot more of Karen's tidy whities. 

If you haven't checked out the Frank the Christmas Gargoyle FB page, you ought to. It is funny and light and shows that just because someone shows you hate, you don't have to return it. Perhaps that is a lesson we all could take away from Frank, FF and 2020, and spread throughout 2021. 

And all because.....one December day.....in Ohio.....a gargoyle....put on a Santa hat.