Christmas Past and Present

Ghosts of Christmas Past, Brooklyn, New York, circa 1994

If there’s one thing that stands out in this picture it’s the French braid, and the fact that I used to wear my hair that way to my midtown Manhattan office. I realize it was lower Midtown, not Park Avenue but Park Avenue South, but still -- a French braid!

Maybe that’s why the people in Brooklyn called me farm girl even though I had never lived on a farm (though I wished I had, still do). It didn’t take me long to realize that New Yorkers glob everyone east of the Hudson River (basically the border between New York City and New Jersey) into one group. I don’t diss on New Yorkers, because I love them, married into a whole family system of them, just as I don’t diss on Midwesterners, because I am one and I “get” them/us. This post isn't about disrespecting anyone.

But it is about stereotypes, which became evident in our gift giving this year. Who are we? You can tell who we are by what we got for Christmas:

Bob: donuts, cookies, mixed nuts, candy bars

Aidan: a variety of Axe products, skateboard stuff

Amanda: cash, check, gift card, and another check

Me: faux fur gloves with touch screen receptacles (part of my Audrey Hepburn collection), wine and coffee products (though I'm trying to cut down on both, with mixed success)

There’s our current family in a nutshell. We’re pretty simple. Just happy to have a family.

The picture above is circa 1995, when Santa would come to Trinity Lutheran Church in Sunset Park Brooklyn to give toys to all the boys and girls (I think that’s what he was doing, anyway, if I remember right.) BTW, all those boys and girls are now teachers, doctors, designers, social workers, entrepreneurs, comedians, and have grown into adults that make any former youth worker's heart sing. I myself am portrayed in my most recognized state of being, even now, having just returned home from work, thus the hair band and matching pantyhose. For record, these days all my hair bands are black and I tend to opt for pants.

This is what the Christmas present looks like,
and it doesn't even come close to capturing the
magnificence of the music, the lights, the people,
the children, the stars, the story.
St. John's Lutheran Church,
Des Moines, Iowa.

To me that picture is totally dorky and I’d like to put it away, as I tend to not be in relationship with the past, but my 17-year-old Amanda likes it and wanted me to keep it. Speaking of that girl, I don’t know what I would do without her. She has basically turned into the Santa of the house in recent years. This year, even with her own hard earned money. She’s the one who keeps the gift giving alive, even as I am pretty ambivalent about it. In an all time low display of Christmas spirit, as she was wrapping her gifts to others, I wrote out a couple of checks, one to her (my gift giving style, of late) and asked her to wrap them and put them under the tree. She said it was exactly what she wanted.

My 14-year-old son, however, brought a white elephant gift to the youth group last week that was wrapped with a pile of our family junk mail (his idea of a joke) that included my recruitment letter from the Association for the Advancement of Retired People (AARP). So now all the kids at church know my advancing age and they all thought it was quite funny. And I thought I was tricking them all into believing I am forever 49-something. I am certainly not tricking myself. AARP seems pretty intent on signing me up and it doesn't seem like a bad idea.

Soon, in celebration of being home together, my very favorite activity, we will be playing our VHS tape of “The Sound of Music” starring Julie Andrews and eating a mega-sized bag of pizza roles. The theory is that some of us will like the movie, others the food. It’s not easy finding a movie that we can all dig with our four personalities, but if you include an appetizer bribery it usually works. For me, I can’t get enough of this togetherness, and more and more, it’s a rare occurrence.

Tomorrow its back to the office for me. For some reason, even when I’m the only one who must get up and out, when others in the household have time off it still feels like a holiday. My colleagues have been great about making the office feel like togetherness, even in the midst of writing four massive applications to fund domestic violence services, etc. (Last night, Christmas Eve, a 34-year-old woman was shot and killed in her home in Des Moines, the 13th homicide of the year in Des Moines, at an address where police had been dispatched five times previously for domestic disputes. There was no information if children witnessed it, but they often do. I don't see how assault, battery, and predatory gun violence can be called a "dispute" but that's just me, hung up on words.)

But if there’s one thing I can assure you about my work day tomorrow it is this: I will not be wearing a French braid. (These days I go for the French clasp. Easier.) But I remain an excellent French braid stylist, so let me know if you'd like one or two in your hair.  

This is just a quick post to check in and wish you and yours a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate, however long or short you have to do what you love the most. 

With love from yours truly,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart