Sunday, 21 December
 |
| Marcella and Jeremy |
Good Morning
Jessicca…
Four days
until Christmas and I think I am about finished with my shopping. Last year I was making last minute decisions
Christmas Eve, which is more like me. I
rely on something catching my eye. That’s
different! It may or may not be but,
whatever it is, it stands apart from what I’ve been wading through looking
around for what feels right. Picking out
a gift is always very personal. That
means I have to like it. Sure, it’s not
for me but I’m not going to purchase a gift strictly on the basis of hoping
they find something appealing about it while I can’t imagine what they would
see in it. That’s aiming in the
dark. The gift one purchases should
always reflect something of the person giving it. We feel good giving it partly because we see
the value in what is being given. Then
we hope they like it because it is important they are happy with the gift
because they are important to us. It’s a
gift because it is given with the best intentions to a loved one or sincere
friend. A gift does not involve the
self-serving quid pro quo of a business arrangement. You know the best kind of gift? Your child gives their special crayon drawing
to you along with some dandelion flowers.
It’s straight from one heart to
another. Perfect.
Your big
brother Jeremy is headed to Europe with his wife, Marcella, just after
Christmas. They will be visiting her
family. I hope they have a wonderful time
but I always worry just a bit. My mind
always contains a list of things that may go wrong. I’m reminded of the many evils in life. I become especially superstitious. I’m helpless in determining events large and
small. Plane accidents, terrorist acts, car
wrecks, matters of the heart… I have no say in preventing any of these
horrors. I can’t even prepare myself for
the shock. I’m always blindsided. I suspect I shouldn’t even be writing of such
things. Vapors from Hell are released
with the slightest pretext.
When I was
very young I went with my grandparents to the wedding of a cousin. We stayed for a bit of the celebration afterwards
and then we headed home. It was a long
drive. Once we arrived a neighbor came
by to say a message awaited us at the telephone company. My grandparents didn’t have a phone so we
drove to the nearest town having the phone company office. A woman at the switchboard passed along the
message. Evelyn and her new husband had
died in a plane crash. It had rained the
night before. Apparently moisture had
gotten into the fuel system and the plane stalled on takeoff, crashing into
trees near the end of the runway. My
grandmother was beside herself. Her sister’s
daughter was gone. The honeymoon would
be postponed.
Jeremy came
to visit me a little over a year ago. He’s
quite tall, a couple inches more than me.
We had a cookout in the backyard the day after he arrived. I remember he wore a t-shirt with birds on
the front – finches and such, with their names beneath their picture. He was among strangers but his conversation
blended in effortlessly with the topics of interest to these people. He has a natural reserve but it seemed
appealing. He appeared open to accepting
everyone on their own terms. Where he was
comfortable I might have felt on trial. I
marvel at how well he handles people and situations. He’s not like me.
Christmas is
still a bigger family event than Thanksgiving.
Both are bigger than the Fourth of July.
It’s arguable but I think Easter is a close fourth. Thanksgiving definitely brings extended
family together. So do the others but
maybe to a lesser degree. Still, these
all seem family oriented holidays. The
joy feels artificial without loved ones around.
There’s just no amount of hoopla and drinking that will make the day
truly festive. We simply need these
times to connect with the people that matter most. Merry Christmas.
Love,
Dad
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