A Chicago Christmas
Although I only spent 5 years in the city of my birth…I remember it well! There was a snow on the ground and more in the air, as mom announced that she had retrieved Laughing Santa…and that I must come to see him!
Before me was the little, stuffed, Chief Elf…with his brightly painted face and the crank on his back. The more that mom turned the crank…the more heartily Old St. Nick laughed. I watched his antics and reveled in his laughter and wondered how he was able to be so human and yet…seemed not to be so?
There were many, uniquely wrapped, gifts under the 8 foot aluminum Christmas Tree. Pointing at the shiny artificial Tannenbaum was a rotating light with a cover of multi-colors that diffused the spectrum of color of the subsequent glow of the beam.
We had returned from our excursion into the city where we saw the new release of Walt Disney’s movie, Lady and the Tramp. And, the information overload for me, at 3 years old, was tremendous…and ‘visions of sugarplums danced in my head!’
Soon dad and me and mom sat under the Tree as a, mysterious visitor, took our photo…’and that is the rest of the story.’
It was after dark and our outside Christmas lights were lit…and we heard a terrible commotion on the roof of our house in Sauk Village. It sounded like someone had been on the roof and fell off. As dad answered the door, I heard him proclaim…’Why come right in!’ There before us…was Santa Claus in all of his red suited, and white bearded, and pipe smoking glory!
Santa laughed, a lesser laugh, than what I had expected…and he wondered if he could use our phone to call Mrs. Claus? He went on to say that he and the Missus had been involved in a spat when he left and he needed to ensure that there was a home for him to return to…when the Christmas Eve work was completed. Dad showed him our one phone in the hall…and he began to dial. We gave him his privacy…he looked like that he needed it. We heard him say, ‘but…but…but,’ on several occasions, and then he joined us in the living room. Santa said that he had patched things up and inquired was there anything that he could do for us…before he resumed his journey. Mom responded that she would like for him to snap a family photo of us under the Christmas Tree. Santa took her camera and took two pictures…in case the first one did not come out right.
Dad poured the, ‘spritely old elf,’ some eggnog and asked if he wanted something stronger in it…and he smiled with the rosiest of cheeks and said, ‘absolutely!’
As Santa left, on our carport were the reindeer and a bright red glow…from Rudolph’s nose. Donner and Vixen called out to Santa and asked, ‘where’s ours?’ referring to the spiked eggnog.
So, that is how the Brooks Family Photo…was taken.
‘Waiting For Godot’
‘Waiting for Godot is a play by Samuel Beckett.’ Wikipedia
”The play is a typical example of the Theatre of the Absurd, and people use the phrase ‘waiting for Godot’ to describe a situation where they are waiting for something to happen, but it probably never will…’ Wikipedia
So, I often say that I am, ‘waiting for Godot!’
Aren’t we all waiting for many things in our lives…that have not exhibited themselves ever…or at least not on a semi-regular basis We wait for Godot when we seek justice and fair treatment for all peoples…not just the majority or those who are favored by the political class. We wait patiently for our elected leaders to care more about their constituents than their own interests. What a treat it would be to witness a concerted focus to address global warming!
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
We live in a country that, by all available measurable criteria, live in multiple realities. There was a famous book, many years ago, that was entitled, Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. This book demonstrated the difficulty in men and women communicating with each other and understanding and empathizing with each others point of view. Today points of view are dictated by the television news network that you receive your news from.
When I was a teenager, men simply understood that they were going to be drafted and be sent to Vietnam. My cousin, Billy, was drafted. The only reason that I was not drafted was due to President Carter abolishing the draft before I became of age to go!
We all watched Walter Cronkite on CBS or Huntley and Brinkley on NBC and we basically received the same news.
We wept when President Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963 at 12:30 pm, central standard time. Somehow, we understood that we would never be the same…and we have not!
We are told by our parents and our elders to work hard and ‘pay-our-dues’ and seek to excel in our careers! We are assured that if we will apply ourselves…we will climb the ladder of success…and we will be another example of the American Dream! We are told that anyone can be President of the United States and anyone can be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company…the Horatio Alger story of rags to riches…is ours for the taking….
But, what if the person who is doing the hiring…does not play by the rules? What if it is not…what you know…but who you know….?
Institutions agonize regarding their low morale. They engage is studies….and consultants….and large committees…too investigate and conduct in depth research into the quandary of ebbing excitement about the work-place!
The answer is simple….we all wait….much as our Jewish friends wait for the Messiah…or justice and equity and fairness…and recognition of consistent hard work and a passion for the job….and someone who has placed their heart and soul into their career….being recognized for their efforts…rather than being passed over for a friend of the boss!
We are still, ‘Waiting for Godot!’
The Hopeful Quartet
‘The Pond was in fine spring condition,’ Big Boy said. ‘We have waited all winter for our premier performance,’ BB continued. ‘The tickets for the Spring Musicale sold out in the first hour they were on sale,’ Big Boy laughed. ‘This year there will be a Comedy Show before we go on…Martin and Martin,’ BB winked and danced.
‘Your attention, we must tune our instruments,’ Mr. Mole said to the orchestra. We are accompanying the famous Bullfrog Quartet…we must be in tune,’ Mr. Mole noted. ‘Our bass violins must blend with their dulcet tones and complement the sounds of the Woods Singers,’ Mr. Mole continued.
‘Our concert will be for Freedom…speaking truth without fear of retaliation…the beauty of Art over politics,’ Mr. Badger proclaimed. ‘We are done watching the carnage of our politicians’ abuse of the Earth,’ Badger continued. ‘We must not cower in fear of a bully…bullies are blowhards with no plan and too much puffery,’ Mr. Badger noted.
‘Come on, men…let this be a concert for the ages…sing from your hearts,’ Big Boy said. The President and his Cabinet will be in the audience…we will show them our best,’ BB proclaimed.
The President and First Lady looked perplexed as the Bullfrog Quartet jumped onto their laps and continued singing.
Surprise
What a lovely day. A time for thinking big thoughts. A time to relax and reflect on the challenges you have accomplished. If you are a parent, be thankful for your kids. If you are a kid, be thankful for your parents.
Some challenges seem herculean. They have a lot of moving parts. When I became a manager at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale, I wondered if I was up to the challenge. I was 29 and knew I had several years before I could retire. Colleagues told me that they would not have done what I did. Yet I look back 15+ years later and can say challenge complete.
Perhaps you are working toward a goal that is difficult to see on the horizon. Then there are the reversals…oh the reversals. Just about the time you can peek over the hill you have climbed…there is another hill.
My old friend told me once a year that life is not a sprint…it is a marathon. The older I become, the better I understand the advice. We are players on a stage…but it is not all drama. Often, we have no lines. Suddenly, it is our turn to speak…then we long for the next speaking opportunity.
Preparation is a fact of life. We prepare for many years to be adults…then the real preparation begins. Take a long time to be spontaneous.
Surprise awaits. As we walk the road home, we see a bend in the road. Around the bend is a surprise.
Hold On, Help Is On The Way
Today is rainy and cloudy. Yesterday the sun shone brightly. Such is life. There are seasons where dark clouds enter our minds. It is possible to be overwhelmed. I have seen this happen often. Introverts can feel they are alone in their struggle. Pride is a veil covering the need for help. We do not want others to know our struggles. People who have suicidal ideation insist they are fine and loving life. Robin Williams was the Funny Man for the world while suffering insurmountable mental battles. Nothing is more freeing and a bringer of peace than asking for help.
I have been up close and personal with a Nervous Breakdown when I was much younger. It is a condition that requires empathy and a slow, deliberate dedication to listening. We are not heard…so we quit speaking into the void. Some bury their anxiety in a bottle. This exacerbates the problem.
Christ helps…his message of a sense of place and purpose is refreshing. The train track has been a guiding light for me. Stay on track my first pastor told me as a youth. The Train of Life is chugging along. We must keep our berth. We will get to New Orleans if we do not falter or faint. We will arrive with a smile and laughter if our friends and loved ones accompany us.
‘I have been blue for some time,’ Jane said. ‘When others are laughing, I wonder what the joke is,’ Jane continued. ‘Life has sent me several reversals, and I wonder if this is my plight for the remainder of my days, Jane mused. ‘I knew happiness once…” But I lost the plot thread,’ Jane explained. ‘Now I am flailing about seeking peace…seeking meaning… wondering what my mission is…what is my purpose,’ Jane mused. ‘I traveled down a side path that looked inviting…it seemed exciting…a smiling figure beckoned me to join him on the path,’ Jane offered with a tear in her eye.
‘A settled mind is good like a medicine,’ Chet noted. ‘When buffeting from the political world or the religious world…or our internal world captivates our mind and soul…take a beat…think before you act…it is a marathon, not a sprint, Chet said.
In Praise Of Introverts
Some of us ring the bell on Sunday morning. Some watch the Bell Ringer. We marvel at his bell-ringing prowess. We love the dulcet tone of the Bell. We love what the Bell Ringing means to us and those who hear it.
Quiet people get things done. Still waters run deep. We love people…at a distance. Not much comes out of our mouths, but much is going on in our heads. Introverts have a lot of answers to life’s persistent questions…if someone asks.
Persistence is the key, the excited man said many years ago. Gesturing as if his hair was on fire…he grabbed the Old Man’s arm and proclaimed his truth. The Old Man wonders if the Extrovert with a message is persistent.
‘Are you prepared for the race?’ Mr. Hare asked Mr. Tortoise. ‘I really do not need to practice as speed is in my genes,’ Mr. Hare proclaimed. ‘I come from a long line of super intelligent and scary speedy Hares,’ Mr. Hare advised with a toothy smile. ‘No Hare has beat me…I feel certain that you have no chance, Sleepy Tortoise,’ Mr. Hare laughed. ‘Give up now, and I will call you a loser,’ Mr.Hare continued. ‘If you praise me early and often…I will understand that you are a smart sleepy Tortoise,’ Mr. Hare observed.
‘Nice seeing you, Mr. Hare…I knew your father and your uncle,’ Mr. Tortoise said. ‘They were quite fast and won many races,’ Mr. Tortoise continued. ‘I used to watch them from the viewing stands,’ Mr. Tortoise continued. ‘Your family seems to rely on bluster as a diversion,’ Mr. Tortoise observed. ‘This is an excellent rhetorical device…until your opponent understands its utilization,’ Mr. Tortoise continued. ‘I have a quiet approach…I watch what works and inculcate best practices into my race,’ Mr. Tortoise mused. ‘I sleep little…I watch and research daily,’ Mr. Tortoise advised.
‘Runners take you marks,’ Judge Everyman said. ‘At the sound of the starter pistol, begin running for the finish line,’ Judge E continued. ‘Be sure to focus on the goal of the finish line,’ Judge E advised both race participants.
‘How did you beat me in the race…I ran hard…I am the greatest…I never lose,’ Mr. Hare asked Mr. Tortoise.
‘You stopped three times to brag on yourself… advise that persistence is the key…accuse me of being sleepy and out of touch with the race,’ Mr. Tortoise explained. ‘I passed you during your second speech…I broke through the finish line several minutes before your arrival…I have watched you for some time…you love the sound of your own voice,’ Mr. Tortoise said as he sipped lemonade.
Secure On A Rollercoaster
A lovely morning. April is moving along. As MJ reminded us, Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Time is a bit like a rollercoaster. While enjoying the thrill of the ride, we lose perspective of where we are. As you take sharp corners and ride on your side or upside down, it is impossible to rely on your internal compass.
The Old Man has vivid dreams. At times, he wonders if what he just experienced was a dream. Our days seem like dreams, and our dreams appear to be reality. Bizarre utterances from powerful people are nightmares.
I have watched Dr. Strangelove on numerous occassions I never considered it as a primer for future history. 1984 by George Orwell seemed dreamlike in the beginning…now it is reality.
Puttering about as time carries us along on a rapid, scary ride. Some things we see are little more than a blur. ‘Oh my goodness…was that mom and dad?’ Jane said. ‘It seems as if I am just getting started…I am old,’ Jane continued. ‘I thought I had too many plans…time ran out,’ Jane mused.
‘I had a dream where I was a kid again in first grade class,’ Chet said. ‘I had my little ball cap on, and Mrs. K said to hang it in the cloak room,’ Chet laughed. ‘There were rules regarding hats in those halcyon days,’ Chet grinned. ‘It was fun seeing movies at the Orpheum Theatre,’ Chet noted. ‘The simplicity of life has returned to me in my golden years,’ Chet explained. ‘So many things that consumed my time and attention evaporated like smoke,’ Chet whispered. ‘Now I like the rollercoaster…the hills and valleys are exciting,’ Chet winked.
Wandering In The Wilderness
You can see it in our eyes. We are a bit perplexed. Where are we and where are we going? Each day is new. Somewhat like a television series, we hope tomorrow connects to today’s narrative. There appear to be no guarantees. Unseen monsters lurk in the shadows… always have… we knew it when we were kids. A Guardian Angel walks by our side…sometimes we get a glimpse of her. We live for the good news. We hide our faces from the bad. All the while, we struggle to get home.
‘I think this is the path,’ Billy B said. ‘It looks like a good path with little stones in the road and pretty plants along the sides of the lane,’ Billy B continued. ‘I saw a similar path when I was a boy in the Bible Story Book at the Doctor’s office,’ Billy B mused. ‘The moms and dads in the illustration were smiling, and the kids were playing with the animals,’ Billy B noted with a smile. ‘I was sick, and the pictures brought me comfort,’ Billy B advised. ‘When I leafed backward in the Story I saw people tripping on small boulders and cutting themselves with potsherds in their agony,’ Billy B continued. ‘It had not always been easy for the travelers…it had been hard,’ Billy B explained. ‘The illustration montage was entitled Pilgrim’s Progress,’ Billy B said.
‘Are you lost…perplexed…afraid…come to me and I will give you the answers that only I can give,’ the Leader said. ‘I am a very stable genius,’ the Leader continued. ‘Admit it…I give you confidence and assure you that your darker thoughts are on point,” the President said. ‘Yes, I have started carrying a staff like Moses…I will lead you out of the cragmire of including all people… especially those from ‘Shit Hole countries.’ ‘My path is a gleaming super highway with only the finest architecture along the sides of the road,’ the President noted. ‘We have removed the halt and maimed…the hungry and those who have no voice…no one wants to see such a terrible sight,’ the President noted. ‘If you are looking for the true path…uh…what did I just say…oh yes…buy my Crypto Currency,’ the President said.
‘A sense of place is important…a grounding,’ Neva J noted. ‘There are many voices…many paths…many hidden agendas,’ Neva J continued. ‘Troubled minds give troubled directions,’ Neva J said. ‘A sick leader will make his people sick by leading them by the turmoil of his mind,’ Neva J assured. ‘We wander about going in circles…we need a Scout who rides ahead…sees what is around the next corner and returns to guide us safely,’ Neva J said softly.
Subtle Changes
I used to watch Mr. Greenjeans on Captain Kangaroo. Mr. Greenjeans was an affable sidekick to the Captain. We did not have a color television set, so I wondered if Mr. Greenjeans pants were indeed green. However, there is no doubt that Green is taking over the Woods. I checked on our little tree in our front yard and happily discovered it has several big, healthy green leaves. MJ was overjoyed.
We are skipping our way to summer. I never skipped well. I watched other kids skip, and it looked magical. When I skipped, it was work. The entire intricate movement of skipping was lost on me. Similar to Stealing the Bacon. I couldn’t seem to get the Bacon first… the game’s objective. I thought about the complexities of the Bacon Stealing Movement during off-game time. I did like walking. I could walk a long way. Walking came effortlessly and naturally. I have continued to this day.
I used to have a good balance. I could balance a full open-face cup of coffee while driving and never spill a drop. I ran down the steps two at a time. Worked 16-hour days regularly. Often did not feel good or bad. Energy was sustainable with Mr. Coffee.
Now the Old Man walks more slowly. Often thinking once, then again before speaking. Energy levels are not bad with naps. No more attempts at skipping. Bacon is for eating…not stealing.
I was raised being told in school that the United States was the greatest country in the world. It valued the freedom and lives of the oppressed. The U.S. was a Sanctuary from the Storm. We were the Good Samaritan that cared for the sick and lame along the side of the road. We helped the helpless…gave hope to the hopeless…looked to with admiration by the world.
We used to be happy with what we had. To prepare for Christmas, we joined a Christmas Club at our bank and saved money weekly to apply to our Christmas gift list. We understood that there were rich people…we were working people and happy for the rich to be glamorous as long as we had enough. We talked in wide-eyed wonder of millionaires…not billionaires. Money for money’s sake was not the goal.
We attended church. We knew we needed it. Many friends came from church affiliations… marriages, too. Church kept us on the path home. The honky tonks did not perform that service for us.
When someone did a nice thing for us, we said thank you…they did not respond, ‘ no problem.’ The cashier counted our change back for us. The gas station attendant pumped our gas and looked under the hood of our car…he checked our oil… every time we went to the Gas Station.
Megachurches were not so important. A jet for the pastor and a luxurious car did not exemplify God’s blessing, while the parishioners suffered hunger and were ill-clad. Christ’s message was not displayed in neon lights and a Hollywood manner. The power was in the words…not the building.
More Than Half of Life is Showing Up
I admire authors that keep showing up day after day. It’s often said that writing is lonely work. Perhaps the reason some struggle to write often, …
More Than Half of Life is Showing Up
A Good Wind Blowing
Sunday is a great day. A time to reflect and plan. We welcomed our new pastor, Meg, this morning. She conveys the sense that anything can be accomplished if we believe in Christ’s message and work together. Seasons bring change…change is a good thing. Change can be as little as a joyful clap while singing a hymn. A breeze is felt. Then there are smiles of joy all around. A connection with God’s Word exemplified by the pastor taking off her shoes as she is on Holy Ground. Words matter. God spoke us into existence with words. Words that are touched by the Spirit/Wind of God’s mouth have power. The Bible tells us that they speak peace to the captive and open the eyes of the blind.
The Old Man hears the Voice of God in the Woods. He and the deer, squirrels, and Mr. Badger listen for the particular wonderful sound of it flowing through the trees. God is not in the extremes of drama…he resides in the quiet places. The sky is full of his wonders, the Earth is his Holy Ground.
There is magic in the words of faith. We, earthen vessels, can only deliver them…God brings them to life. We understand the transformative power of God’s Spirit when we feel it. Suddenly, something is different… There has been a change.
The little girl was worried… anxiety was her companion…she was homeless and hungry, sitting next to the Broadway Theatre. Many well-dressed people passed her by with cold stares or laughing and looking the other way as they walked into the Theatre. A kind man tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Your Dad has been asking where you are…I told him he could find you here, next to the Theatre,’ the Kind Man said. ‘He is coming to ask you to come home…all is forgiven…change has happened…A Good Wind,’ the Kind Man said.
‘Mom and I have been going to church more often,’ Dad said to his little girl. ‘I am sorry for the harsh words I spoke and my inflexibility when it comes to you…I love you…come home,’ Dad continued. ‘A Spirit has grasped my heart…words in the sermon seemed to come alive to me…I am changed,’ Dad said to his daughter as he embraced her.
Safe
The temperature has dropped 35 degrees. Quite an overnight change. Colder tomorrow. Sweater weather. Nature brings comfort in purpose even when it is erratic. We look for things we can count on. We set our lifeclock on the seasons of life. Surprise is energizing in small doses.
First, the Straight of Hormuz is open, and before the day is ended, it is closed. Presidents govern by executive order… the next President rescinds those orders and writes his own. No way to run a railroad. Increasingly, we understand that a troubled mind is a poor rudder of safe direction for our nation.
The Old Man has spent his life in church. It has been a great comfort …a safe place. Church lifts the spirit and enables another mile. Gathering with a community of faith that seeks to live out Christ’s message is unparalleled. Not a message of recrimination or revenge…a message for the poor and forgotten.
‘When I look at the painting of Christ looking down from a mountain at Jerusalem, I feel safe,’ Jane said. ‘His face reflects deep reflection,’ Jane continued. ‘What a short time we have on Earth to find our way,’ Jane continued. ‘Why do we fight with each other?’ Jane said with tears in her eyes. ‘We are only passing through,’ Jane observed. ‘God loves us and wants to tuck us in bed and pull the covers up to our neck…he wants us to feel safe,’ Jane observed. ‘Jesus did not speak from revenge or fear…he did not pit people against their neighbors…he turned the other cheek,’ Jane softly noted. ‘Words of peace bring peace…words of healing bring healing,’ Jane said.
‘The mother deer gathered her young to her side before they crossed the road,’ the Old Man observed. ‘The squirrels laughed as the wind increased…they had seen it all before,’ the Old Man noted. ‘Little frightened the Woods Creatures,’ Old Man observed. ‘They heard about the President and his rhetoric…his promise of revenge…his obsession regarding his reflection,’ Old Man continued. ‘The Frog Quartet sang a song of safety…a song of security… a song of love… a song of peace,’ Old Man said softly with a smile.
The Happy Traveler 