Last day of the year

For me the year 2007 is exiting in an ordinary way. There is laundry to do. Work clothes have to be pressed. I need cash to fill my wallet and food to fill the larder. While in town, I'll stop by to see my mother. I missed going out yesterday because I was taking youngest daughter to the airport. It was a nice drive and a sweet farewell. She's a very good person.

I am enjoying reading Christmas books, listening to newly downloaded (son gave me a most generous iTunes gift card), and watching a few movies. One daughter is an artist, the other daughter is a trained actor, so they look at film as an art form. I look mostly at the film's story and whether it has a something that might prove helpful to my patients. For example, "The Final Cut" with Robin Williams did not garner great heaps of critical acclaim nor will it make any one's list of all-time favorite movies. The movie is technically awkward in places but what it says about the nature of human memory is profound, i.e. that what we think we remember has frequently been distorted by our emotions. What may appear to be a clear cut memory may be a composite, a screen memory which blocks more emotionally intense memories, or even a complete confabulation.

This week I watched "The Ref". Embedded in this fluffy Christmas comedy are the themes of taking responsibility for one's own decisions and to stop blaming everyone else for your own misery. I lent it to son and once he's done, it will go out to some couples I work with.

Christmas memories

-As I waited for daughter's plane to arrive, I watched one traveler after another pulled into welcoming bear hugs and kisses. Delighted parents asked their weary daughter and husband how their trip went with their three small children. "It was hell" replied the harried young mother while her little sugar plum of a daughter literally danced and twirled through the crowd. A nervous Dad was reunited with his equally nervous gangly daughter, who probably had grown several inches since he last saw her. One Mom was there in a Santa hat to greet her twenty something son. A reserved Japanese girl let out a muted squeal when she saw her family. One young woman traveler just looked totally exhausted. A college student after exams or one of those delayed by the Midwestern storm? Maybe both. And finally my own lovely daughter arrived, twenty minutes early no less. What a blessing!

-Singing along to The Messiah with daughter on the long drive home and seeing the brilliant full moon with Mars nestled next to it like a mini-moon.

-Watching"It's a Wonderful Life" with the family on Christmas eve. I hadn't seen it in five or six years, so it was fresh and inspiring again. It's my favorite kind of Christmas service.

-Visiting my dear old mother at the nursing home and seeing the tears in her eyes and her face light up when she saw two of her grandchildren. My gratitude is great for the men and women who work on Christmas while the rest of us have the day to be with our families.

-The wonderful, thoughtful presents I received. And the strange, "what-were-they-thinking?" presents I received.

-Son and the Hubster burning up all the Christmas wrappings and a t-shirt I gave to Hubster. He hadn't seen it in the box. Son noticed it when something burned oddly. Memo to self: don't wrap items inside a t-shirt, even if it were inside a box which was wrapped with paper.

-My sister-in-law is a fabulous cook. Her daughters and son are also excellent cooks. All of the above create an amazing Christmas feast. My contributions were two pies, the classic green bean casserole and a big green salad. I spent all of Christmas eve afternoon baking. My body still aches.

-Other daughter calling during the family dinner and passing the phone around so she could wish everyone a Merry Christmas.

-Closing the tailgate of my car after loading up the presents and dishes to return home, I looked up at the stars in the clear crisp night sky and said with all my heart "Thank God, it's all over!"

2:21pm
Agenda for today:

Drink fancy coffee and mess around on computer(done)
Finish crossword puzzle (done)
Take a walk (done)
Eat leftover coconut cream pie (done)
Drink fancy tea from Dean&Deluca (doing)
Take a nap (next thing to do)
Drink more fancy coffee which daughter brought from place which roasts beans on premises (the next next thing to do)
Do another crossword puzzle (optional)

Bill

Recently, a woman I know pulled me aside. She had something to tell me. Last week was the anniversary of her marriage to her first husband. I knew she dreaded this time of year because it brought back up so many sad memories of her husband's last days and his death just before Christmas. She was left a young widow with a small child to care for. I've known her for ten years, but until that moment I never knew his name was Bill and that they'd been married on December 15. In the past, she fell into a dark funk each year which deepened as the fifteenth approached.

This year, however, she went nearly all day before she even remembered that it was the fifteenth. She thought it might be connected to a dream she had the year before in which Bill had been murdered and she had been wounded.

I answered "You were wounded, but you didn't die. It seems you needed to have that one last bad dream."
She nodded in agreement and added softly "I think I'm healed."
"So you think you've done enough grieving?"
She laughed "Yes, it only took thirty-some years!"

Sanity Island

I really love going to work this time of year. One would think that the holidays would bring out all sorts of nuttiness. They do indeed. A colleague mentioned recently that Christmas started around Halloween this year. The reference was not to holiday merchandising blitzes which come earlier with each passing year, but to the ghosts of Christmases past and those of Christmas present which unsettle the people we treat. Those who mourn, who are depressed, who are sick, who are damaged feel their pain more intensely in contrast to the holly-jolly-very merriness of the season. There is always so much disappointment when magical fantasies do not come true.

And there are the annual family battles which get played out with renewed, reflexive vigor. Where to put the Christmas tree? When to put up the tree? Whose family do we grace with our presence, for how long, in what order? Where to attend services or if one attends services? And what if other members of the family are feuding? How do people avoid picking sides? Fa-la-la-la-la..., la-la-la-LA!

Yet, when I go into our little building and the door closes behind me, I shut out the Christmas carols blaring out over loud speakers and lights blinking in the park next door. I enter an island of sanity, where I don't think about shopping, wrapping, cooking, decorating, tinsel or to-do. I don't decorate my office except for a little sleigh which was made by the grateful wife of one of my patients. I welcome other people to my island and do my best to help them get through the season. When they leave I hope that they take some of the peace with them.

Christmas thought

Recently I heard this Scottish prayer set beautifully to music by Alfred Burt.

I saw a stranger yest're'een;

I put food in the eating place,

Drink in the drinking place,

Music in the listening place;

And in the name of the Triune

He blessed myself and my house,

My cattle and my dear ones;

And the lark said in her song:

Oft, Oft, Oft,

Goes the Christ in the stranger's guise.

Oft, Oft, Oft,

Goes the Christ in the stranger's guise

Dee

In my work, I've learned to always check what people eat. So many people eat horribly. A pop tart washed down with diet soda may pass for breakfast. Fast food or convenience store nachos might be lunch followed by frozen pizza for dinner. All you have to do is peek at other people's shopping carts at the grocery check-out to get an idea what passes for nutrition in a lot of families. And if someone I work with comes in looking awful, it's not unusual to find that they have been living on junk recently.

That said, I confess that I am a bona fide card-carrying hypocrite. Last week I bought a box of Captain Crunch. This box of high fructose covered sugar nuggets was not for me. Even worse, it was for the Fire Department's Christmas food drive.

The box of Captain Crunch was my tribute to Dee. This amazing woman was for years the force behind the cub scout program in our area. She was the power behind the local toys for tots program, a bell ringer for the Salvation Army and a key member of the annual food drives. For several years I helped her sort and pack up toys for children referred by social service agencies. I always found her alone at the church Sunday school room where she worked. A few others like me would help for an hour here and there, but mostly it was just Dee going through the donated toys trying to fill a bag so each child would have some special gift and a little surprise or two. There was a boom box playing Christmas music and the unfailingly cheerful Dee was always delighted to have a little help and someone to talk to while she worked.

Every Christmas, Dee asked that her cub scouts bring in a box of their favorite cereal to give to the food drive. This was a kid to kid gift she explained. Soon boxes of Apple Jacks, Frosted Flakes and Fruit Loops piled up and eventually made their way into the Christmas boxes. As a nutrition conscious mom, I would never have donated this junk. I would pick a big box of oatmeal to give to the needy instead. But deep down, I smiled at Dee's idea. I had visions of some happy kid on Christmas morning digging into a big bowl of sugar coated smackers, images which were no doubt generated by TV advertising. Each year he was a scout, son was the one to pick out the box of cereal that he took in for the food drive.

Dee moved away from here many years ago. I think of her each Christmas. No doubts she is now working quietly in another Sunday school room somewhere. Dee, this Captain Crunch is for you!

Reindeer Hoofbeats

Well, the annual stampede has begun. I had to hit the big box emporium yesterday which almost as frantic as I thought it would be. If this store is any indicator, it will be a very good year for their stockholders. Actually I've accomplished a lot on my seemingly endless to-do list. In less than three weeks, we'll all be sitting around digesting the enormous dinner we just consumed and thinking about the day.

I have my own little Christmas traditions which I like to observe. For the past few years I have created my own Christmas mix made of favorites songs from CDs and downloads from iTunes. This year's mix is as eclectic as ever with songs by Third Day, the Weepies, Barenaked Ladies and Brad Paisley mixed with Bach, Delius, and an interesting duet featuring Bing Crosby and David Bowie: "Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy". The last track is Louis Armstrong's delightful "Zat you Santa Claus?". The new mix will join my Christmas CD collection that serves as my personal soundtrack by which I wrap presents, iron, fold laundry, cook or run around town in my buggy.

I'm not a big scented candle person, but Vermont Country store sells the most wonderful pine and holly berry candles which are an utter delight to sniff. I like to arrange big candles on the fireplace mantle which is my nod to Dad who loved Christmas. Then there's the creche set which I bought when the kids were small. The figures are plastic so little hands could play with them. Sturdy little pieces they are. In the past thirty years only one has been damaged, a sheep who had a leg broken when someone stepped on it. He still is able to carry out his once a year job with the rest of the flock who guard the Christ child.

The Hubster has never shown much enthusiasm for outdoor Christmas displays. No, that's not quite correct. There was the life size wooden cut-out of Santa seated in his outhouse which was given to us by his brother. Brother-in-law and wife thought it was hilarious. They'd ordered it made just for us. It was the gift that unfortunately kept on giving. Every year, I hoped and prayed that Hubster would forget about the outhouse Santa; but every year he'd haul it out and set it down at the end of our driveway. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, he lit it with flood lights so the passersby could enjoy our seasonal decoration. Only he was sad when the thing finally fell apart.

That was Hubster's only voluntary contribution to outdoor decorating. I finally concluded that if there were to be anything tasteful, it would be up to me. I would be the one to hang the lights and I would be the one to take them down. Therefore the decorating would be very simple and would not entail the use of a ladder. I've taken to hanging multi-colored lights along the deck railing which I can enjoy from the kitchen sink and from my comfy chair. The lights are simply there for my own enjoyment. The first year I draped the lights in a way that impeded the Hubster's access to his bird feeders. There was not peace on earth at our house until I rearranged the string of lights. Each year I confer with him asking if he's absolutely sure that he doesn't want me to decorate the pole that supports the rope that goes to the pulley that raises his bird feeding station so that he can fill it. He now gives me a weak smile in response to my poor attempt at humor. Some things are just not funny to birders.