30513 Memories: Home For The Holidays

Ready or not the holidays are here. As this post appears, we are wedged in between Thanksgiving and Christmas. At my age, I find myself trying to find ways to make a seven-year-old enjoy these holidays in unique and memorable ways. It often makes me revisit my own memories of this time of year when I was nearer the age she is now. Doing that takes me back to that time and that zip code, 30513.

I recall looking through the Sears catalog in the time before Christmas. While I have often written things down I am not too sure I ever transcribed a list of Christmas gifts I wanted. Still, there were trips to the Western Auto and the dime store where I eyed many things I desired. I also remember visits to see Santa Claus so I could tell him what I wanted. I also recall the tortuous feeling inside when he would ask me if I had been good the whole year realizing there were times when I struggled and failed.

I remember Dad getting out his aluminum extension ladder to hang the Christmas lights on the house. These lights were an older set of varied colors with huge bulbs. Mom usually put up the Christmas tree, off in the corner of the living room, although it also set at times in front of the picture window. My memory also stretches back to a time when we had a silver Christmas tree with a color wheel. I was fascinated by the color wheel more than the odd color of the tree. I wonder if Mom and Dad still have that tree somewhere.

Honestly, I don’t always recall the gifts. I mean I know there was an electronic football game, a Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em boxing game and Hot Wheels. I was also just geeky enough to recall a book about our country’s presidents and a collection of fifty pennies, each one made in a different state. Then there were the clothes: sweaters and pants and shirts. I was less than thrilled with these gifts as this meant I would have to set aside time to try each item on only to face a close examination from Mom on whether or not the item needed to be a different size or altered before wearing. I guess I was short on patience since I had a book to read and had just gotten to the section on Chester A. Arthur.

Spoiled? Yes. Mom and Dad would mention from time to time how their holidays were when they were young. They might get a pencil or an orange. They didn’t drum these facts into my head to make me feel bad but I heard it enough to come to appreciate now how fortunate I had it when I came along. I also know it wasn’t just luck that enabled my parents to provide what they did to us. They both worked hard at jobs and at home to provide and save and spend wisely the money they earned. Such things were not then and are not now pure happenstance.

Looking back, what I remember most from the holidays when I was young were the meals. Insert your own fat, middle-aged guy joke here. It’s the truth though. Yes, there was sweet potato casserole, masked potatoes and gravy, cranberries, green beans, creamed corn, cornbread, slaw, turkey and dressing, glazed ham and pumpkin pie, lime salad, strawberry delight, peanut butter cake and black walnut cake with sugary coconut icing. Those things were there but so was family and sometimes friends. When we gathered together to pray then to eat, that’s really what made the holidays mean something.

Even with a pretty big table and space at a nearby bar just inside the dining room, there was not enough space for everyone in one room. This meant that being one of the younger members of the family, I could eat in the living room. Mom and Dad’s four grandchildren at that time would all get their plates and we would all pile on to the couch or lounge chair or floor and eat away. A football game emanating from the television set would provide the entertainment. Later, gifts would be opened but the real gift had already been opened. We were all together.

I have lived away from there well over half my life now. Even though I can’t really recall the gifts I received from specific holidays, it is those memories from those holidays that form how I expect the holidays to be in some way even to this day. There have been times when I had to work on those holidays and couldn’t be there making me miss what was happening more than I really knew at the time. There were times when I had to make a trip to get there knowing it would be worth the effort. During some of these trips I often wondered about some of my friends from my early years. By then I knew how some of us scattered away from this place and others remained there. I wondered if they were returning to their old home places as well and if they were did they have similar memories hanging around.

For now, Hannah will have her long list of things she will want Santa to bring. She’ll have to sit in Santa’s lap and answer that question he has asked so many kids before about their behavior over the past twelve months. At some point, we will make that drive to where I grew up. We will gather as family as we have for as long as my memory can recall. There will be new toys. There will be food. There may be tears. There will be laughter. There will be love. There will be family. Of all the things I will soak up and drink in at that time it will be the feeling I get knowing this group of people gathered together belongs together. I can only hope that will be a gift Jennifer and I can provide to Hannah to remember when one day she looks back at the holidays she knew as a child.

May God keep you and your loved ones safe and happy through this holiday season.

Bonus holiday playlist:
Bob Dylan "Must Be Santa" 
Kenny Loggins "Celebrate Me Home" 
Patty Loveless "Santa Train" 
The Eagles "Please Come Home For Christmas"
Roger Miller "Old Toy Trains" 
Bill Monroe "Christmas Time's A-Comin'" 
The Band "Christmas Must Be Tonight"
The Soul Saints Orchestra "Santa's Got A Bag of Soul" 
Robert Earl Keen "Merry Christmas From The Family" 
Dan Fogelberg "Same Auld Lang Syne" 

One Dandelion Wish

I am not the most perceptive person in the world. Plenty of life has passed by me without my understanding or appreciating what a specific moment offered at that exact time. Sometimes, that realization came one moment too late which is one moment past when it may have made some type of lasting difference.

As I have grown older though the voices from the past seasoned from time and experience become clearer through the fog and haze of everyday life. Those voices, many long removed from today, seem to speaker louder with each passing day.

I hear those whispers of wisdom.
Enjoy each moment.
Count time spent with loved ones as special because those moments and the ones you love and who love you really truly are just that, special.
You will miss this.

Those voices ring truer when I look at Hannah. I visualize a timeline from when I first held her to this very morning when she hugged me before she left with her mom headed to school.

Insert your favorite clichés here.
Time flies.
They grow up way too fast.
Where is the time going?

It is obvious special moments can be savored but not necessarily saved. A body can try though.

I am writing this one day after Hannah and I spent some together. Jennifer had a meeting she needed to attend which meant for a few hours Hannah and I were on our own.

With a day’s planning, Hannah determined she wanted to go to a nearby park after school then she wanted to eat pizza for supper. When I picked her up from school, I asked her if she still wanted to go to the park. She did. She even whispered to me she had not told anyone during the day about the trip to the park. I offered her the option of two different parks. She chose the one I knew she would and probably not the one I would have chosen on this day. It was a bit out of the way from home but I decided on this day that didn’t really matter.

We buckled up in the car beginning our journey. The afternoon traffic was heavy but the day was still sunny and bright. The temperature was warmer than usual for the day. As we traveled I glanced in the rear view mirror only to notice Hannah had fallen asleep. Before long we arrived at our destination with the sleepy little girl waking up as if on cue.

Once out of the car, we began making our way down a walkway to a playground area. Hannah’s right hand latched onto my left hand. A few steps into this walk, I felt her hand pull away from mine. I walked ahead a few more steps before stopping to look back. Hannah had stopped to pick a dandelion from the ground. She declared she was going to make a wish then began blowing the seeds away into the wind. When she finished she placed her hand back in mine so we could continue to walk to our destination. Then she announced she was going to tell me about her wish. Before she did though she decided against that because she wanted what she wished to come true, and, as she informed me if you tell a wish it won’t come true.

We reached the playground discovering we had the whole place to us. We hit the swings, the monkey bars and the slides. We even played a game of hide-and-seek. Frankly, the sunlight and it’s heat wore me down quickly. I tried to not let it get to me as I could tell Hannah was enjoying herself. After about forty-five minutes though we both were ready to escape the heat and find supper. We piled into the car, turned up the air conditioner then made our way to one of our favorite pizza joints.

We placed our orders, including a take-out box for Jennifer, visiting with one another until our food arrived. Hannah became interested watching a family at a near-by table eat together. A couple had a child perhaps two or three years old. The child ate spaghetti and pizza. The mom loudly commented on every little move the child made while the father quietly sat by. Across the table, a set of grandparents sat soaking in every moment. I glanced over a time or two trying to not be too conspicuous only to note the large amount of food on the floor that the child had dropped. I chuckled to myself remembering times when we, with a much younger Hannah, would leave a restaurant in similar shape. Hannah watched this group so intently I had to tell her three or four times to not stare at them. She would deny staring at them long enough for the words to escape her mouth before her eyes would turn from me back to that table of five.

Food would come to our rescue. My salad arrived first. As I began to mix it together, Hannah’s small hand reached into the bowl to pull out some shredded cheese. Then, for the next few minutes, she kept up with me almost bite-for-bite with something we could not get her to eat at home on any other given night. In time, our pizza slices arrived. Hannah sprinkled parmesan on her slices before digging in to her supper. I followed suit.

Before long, we were stuffed. I asked for a take-out box and the check. Our server brought us both, along with Jennifer’s box. We gathered it all together, paid the bill then right behind the family of five left the restaurant to head home.

On the drive, Hannah talked. She asked questions. She provided her opinion on matters. She told me about activities at her school.

Then, she asked if I wanted to know what she had wished for when we first arrived at the park. I told her I did want to know but only if she really wanted to tell me. She said she did. Then she told me she had wished for the best day ever.

I paused for a couple of seconds before I asked her, “Well, did that wish come true?”

Her reply was music to my ears and a symphony of indescribable magnitude to my heart, “Yes.”

Now a day later, I swish all that around in my heart and savor it hoping it lasts and lasts and lasts.

What you read here is my feeble attempt to save it in some way for some time when me, Hannah or her Mom might need it, for some day when times are hard, harsh or hurtful or for the times when best-day-ever moments are much harder to perceive. No, remembering it won’t quite be the same. Still, maybe sometime, someday, it will mean something when a pick-me-up is needed.

Hopefully, this best day ever will even be replaced by other best days ever. For that I can only wish and wait and hope to recognize it when it happens. Until then I have stored this one away knowing I can pull it out when I'll need it.

So, here's hoping for more dandelions along life's walk, for more pure sincere hearts of precious children and for more wise voices who speak at just the right time to identify and hold close to the moments we all wish for, and sometimes receive.

And In The Background "Girls Just Want To Have Fun" Was Playing

Much of our lives these days is spent in a car traveling to and from various places. Sometimes it is the three of us but most often it is me and Hannah.

I kind of like my way of traveling. I have it down to a science, perhaps imperfect but one that fits my needs. Sunglasses, check. Seat just so, check. Steering wheel, check. In the summer, air conditioner blasting, check. In the winter, the heat barely on but blowing on my feet, check. Music turned to just the hearing level that it crowds out my ability to realize I may be talking to myself, check.

With Hannah, some of my travel routine has changed. Sometimes, the air conditioner doesn’t blow as cool or as fast as I would prefer. Sometimes, the heat makes the car resemble a moving desert. And the music, yes, the music, well, there is that. Should you get in my car we may be listening to a local radio station. I tend to listen to them in spite of the often inane announcing for the traffic reports, and, of course, for just the right tune. With Hannah aboard though the music from the radio is sometimes replaced by a CD of some of her favorite music. It would not be uncommon to get in my car in the middle of July and the song that would fill the interior of the automobile would be “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”. As she has grown older though, any music filters to the background so we can talk, or more directly, so she can talk.

One recent evening, Hannah and I were on our way home. As the daylight dwindled, I put my sunglasses aside for the ride, positioned myself just so in the driver’s seat, grasped the steering wheel with both hands, kicked on the A/C and left the radio playing quietly in the background. This trip would take about twenty minutes from one location to our house. True to form, Hannah talked most of the way.

As we neared our house though she grew quiet for a moment. It was quiet enough that I recognized the song playing on the radio as Cyndi Lauper’s 1984 hit “Girls Just Want To Have Fun”. Suddenly from the back seat, Hannah blurted out that she knew this song. I turned the music up a bit so we could hear it better.

Hannah then began explaining how we heard this song about a month earlier when we visited a local amusement park. I then remembered hearing the song that day through the heat and humidity while we were there as the loudspeaker system there blasted hit after hit from the 1980s.

Hannah brought to light more details about that song and that day to my attention. She remembered hearing the song as she and I were riding the park’s log flume, the ride that slowly pulls you up an incline until the top is reached and then releases you down a hill into a pool of water. The ride can be exhilarating, and, on a really hot day, refreshing, as each rider stands a pretty good chance of getting soaked.

I recalled that ride that day. Hannah had expressed interest in that specific ride but other rides seemed more interesting to her. Late in the day though, Hannah wanted to try the log flume. Jennifer declined to ride this one ride. I can’t blame her since no one really knows what lives in that water. To her credit, she does ride many of the rides with Hannah that toss and turn a body around. I knew this one ride was one I would enjoy although as we started the ride I began to have my doubts.

Darkness was gathering by the time we got on this ride. As it started, we were funneled into a tunnel that turned everything pitch black. When this happened, Hannah began to panic. She grew afraid of being in the dark. I held her hand. I tried to allay her fears. I told her the darkness was only temporary. The weird creaking noises she somehow heard above the loudspeaker would be gone soon. We kept moving although the pace at which we proceeded seemed to be an eternity. Frankly, I felt a bit closed in myself as I inhaled and exhaled the

stale summer air. Then, just ahead of us, we saw light. We emerged from the tunnel into the outside starting our real ascent up the hill. As we reached the very top we could see Jennifer waiting for us up ahead to our left. We could only look for a split second though as once we topped the peak we dropped down the hill into the water as the two of us let out screams of excitement mixed with a giant splash of water into our faces.

Later, I reflected on our conversation and her memory of that day at the amusement park. It’s easy to see how the parent-child relationship is a reflection of that log flume ride. A child wants to be adventurous. Parents want to foster curiosity. A child can grow scared. Parents provide encouragement. Then, it happens, and ready or not the parents and the child find themselves being pulled up the hill, then topping the hill, then dropping off that hill, screaming and landing and getting immersed in what it all brings together.

And, now, I know during that log flume ride, “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” was the soundtrack. Somehow, as the dad of a little girl I think that may become the soundtrack to the rest of my life. 

Oh, daddy, dear.

Cyndi Lauper: Girls Just Want To Have Fun