Having a minor procedure this morning, but I will be "put out." I figured I'd just write something now, because if I react like before, I will sleep the rest of the day, when we finally have sunny weather. The sun seems brighter in December. I feel, as I walk, as if I'm in a movie.
I watched two college age boys throwing a frisbee in the kite field yesterday afternoon. I thought of a million scenes from movies, either in Central Park or a college campus. I have been enjoying the forties degree weather with the bright sunshine. Bundled up, I don't notice the cold, nor do I sweat.
Harrison and I took a few leisurely walks the last few days, making up for the rain and dreariness of many November days. Too wet and cold to be outside long. Many days, Harrison would stare out the open door and retire to the couch. He got antsy and trotted out all kinds of goodies from our bedrooms to get our attention. Maybe this weekend will end up the same.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
What is Christmas, After All?
I love The Muppet's Christmas Carol. The songs are catchy and stay with you. The movie feels good. A lovely message. Yet, it doesn't mention Jesus or even the Babe born in Bethlehem, does it?
Last night the adults joined the youth for Wednesday evening service. The younger kids practiced their Christmas program in the sanctuary for this Sunday. Wonderful for the church to be busy that we have to join with the teen agers.
The youth pastor taught on not being a "Bah, humbug Christian" using clips of an older Christmas Carol. The film had the flavor of the forties in black and white, but music in background. My film expert daughters would know, but one is in school and the other in bed. The ghost of Christmas Present impressed me and filled me with joy. He said, "Christmas Present is 365 days old. It is not one day, just as the holy Babe born in Bethlehem wants to dwell in your heart 365 days a year." Something to that effect. A movie like that reminds me how much our culture accepted hearing the message of Jesus at one time.
Another point is how Scrooge ecstatic, almost to the point of crazy, over the fact that he can have a new life.
That scares people, makes them nervous. Yes, a person can love God and all that, but don't dare be radical. Yet, as Scrooge realizing he wasn't dead, but given a new life, we, too, believing we have new life, should be jumping for joy, trying to do headstands, filled with enthusiasm that a second chance is ours.
Also those who have known Jesus so long need not chide this reaction to the new found realization. I propose every day we should be doing headstands, knowing we have new life. Isn't this Christmas, after all?
Last night the adults joined the youth for Wednesday evening service. The younger kids practiced their Christmas program in the sanctuary for this Sunday. Wonderful for the church to be busy that we have to join with the teen agers.
The youth pastor taught on not being a "Bah, humbug Christian" using clips of an older Christmas Carol. The film had the flavor of the forties in black and white, but music in background. My film expert daughters would know, but one is in school and the other in bed. The ghost of Christmas Present impressed me and filled me with joy. He said, "Christmas Present is 365 days old. It is not one day, just as the holy Babe born in Bethlehem wants to dwell in your heart 365 days a year." Something to that effect. A movie like that reminds me how much our culture accepted hearing the message of Jesus at one time.
Another point is how Scrooge ecstatic, almost to the point of crazy, over the fact that he can have a new life.
That scares people, makes them nervous. Yes, a person can love God and all that, but don't dare be radical. Yet, as Scrooge realizing he wasn't dead, but given a new life, we, too, believing we have new life, should be jumping for joy, trying to do headstands, filled with enthusiasm that a second chance is ours.
Also those who have known Jesus so long need not chide this reaction to the new found realization. I propose every day we should be doing headstands, knowing we have new life. Isn't this Christmas, after all?
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Tree Lighting Ceremony
The old bank in West Middlesex had a circular drive with a grassy medium. A large pine tree grew there. The town had a special lighting of the tree, usually the first Thursday of December. Festivities for Christmas waited until December back then.
I walked down town to watch this ceremony. We sang Christmas carols and songs. Treat bags, probably from the Women's Club, filled with popcorn balls and oranges, candy canes and maybe a candy bar, delighted us. A sense of community filled the cold air, as well as, our vapor breath.
Always a chance I'd see some cute boy. You know, the boy of the week. Dark night sky brought those cuddly imaginations. Reality brought me my girlfriends. And loud singing, treat bags and a wonderfully large lit Christmas tree. A walk home under the street Christmas lights with magic in the air of small town America that we seem to never recapture. We try, though.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Seventh Grade Christmas
My friends and I decided since we were much older this year of seventh grade, we would exchange Christmas gifts. Yet, none of us worked, so had little income. We agreed on homemade gifts.
I tried. I'm just not crafty or very talented. My mother, too, could never sew like a seamstress. Her attempts at clothes made the older children feel like refugees. She also didn't know the beginning of knitting or crocheting. In fact, my dad taught me how to make the chain for crocheting. He, as a kid, made chains out of leather, so he knew how to start that.
So the gifts made from the heart, broke mine. I made a jeans purse with thick red embroidery thread for one friend. It looked sloppy and terrible, I could tell by her expression. Another friend, I wrote her a poem. In fact, I wrote several poems that year to give. But I don't write poetry well. The friend showed her disappointment.
Yet, these girls remained my friends through high school. We saved and never made homemade gifts again for each other. I have found my best homemade gifts are cookies or cake because so many people don't have time to bake. Food doesn't have to go with decor or one's style. Yet, it is something made from the heart.
And the best gifts are those from the heart. I thank God for my friends that didn't hold material pleasures over our friendship. I thank God for family that accepts my poor offerings at times. I hold them all dear to my heart.
I tried. I'm just not crafty or very talented. My mother, too, could never sew like a seamstress. Her attempts at clothes made the older children feel like refugees. She also didn't know the beginning of knitting or crocheting. In fact, my dad taught me how to make the chain for crocheting. He, as a kid, made chains out of leather, so he knew how to start that.
So the gifts made from the heart, broke mine. I made a jeans purse with thick red embroidery thread for one friend. It looked sloppy and terrible, I could tell by her expression. Another friend, I wrote her a poem. In fact, I wrote several poems that year to give. But I don't write poetry well. The friend showed her disappointment.
Yet, these girls remained my friends through high school. We saved and never made homemade gifts again for each other. I have found my best homemade gifts are cookies or cake because so many people don't have time to bake. Food doesn't have to go with decor or one's style. Yet, it is something made from the heart.
And the best gifts are those from the heart. I thank God for my friends that didn't hold material pleasures over our friendship. I thank God for family that accepts my poor offerings at times. I hold them all dear to my heart.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
You Know You're From West Middlesex if-------------------
We have discovered a new Facebook game. Someone set up this proposition and slowly we have been answering questions. I posted pictures from the sixties that my dad took on his new Kodak instamatic camera. Many comments are made on them. The memories are fun.
What I found interesting is how even a few years can change some of the memories. Or maybe some lived closer to down town and could remember the old stores that were torn down in the sixties or early seventies. But I do remember vaguely the old ice skating rink on the corner of Erie and Garfield Streets. A sunny winter afternoon walking over the block with one of my older siblings. I often wished they hadn't gotten rid of it.
As I observe the old pictures and read everyone's memories, I feel truly blessed that with had such a great childhood. I guess that is why I write about so many of our memories. As each one is recorded as a comment, I want to say, I wrote about that and put my link. Is that spamming? I did plug my blog, though. These people may really want to read about small town W. Middlesex.
I do think though of some of the darkness that some kids lived in while growing up. One told me of what we know now is child abuse. Some girls, I thought for sure at the time it was made up, told the story of a man driving around with no pants and exposing himself to them. As I have grown up, I know this could be perfectly true. It is a nasty world and bad things happen. People harm others, even their children. There was even the rumor of hobos living in the tunnels under I-80 and we were forbidden to play at the Kiwanis, then Alf Landon Park on the edge of town. Our parents knew of the danger, but we, in innocence, really had no idea.
I felt I really had no idea of the dangers in the world or at least in West Middlesex. We played in innocence and my parents didn't spell out the problems. In a way, I learned to believe in the good in people. Did we lose that and did we need to lose that belief?
What I found interesting is how even a few years can change some of the memories. Or maybe some lived closer to down town and could remember the old stores that were torn down in the sixties or early seventies. But I do remember vaguely the old ice skating rink on the corner of Erie and Garfield Streets. A sunny winter afternoon walking over the block with one of my older siblings. I often wished they hadn't gotten rid of it.
As I observe the old pictures and read everyone's memories, I feel truly blessed that with had such a great childhood. I guess that is why I write about so many of our memories. As each one is recorded as a comment, I want to say, I wrote about that and put my link. Is that spamming? I did plug my blog, though. These people may really want to read about small town W. Middlesex.
I do think though of some of the darkness that some kids lived in while growing up. One told me of what we know now is child abuse. Some girls, I thought for sure at the time it was made up, told the story of a man driving around with no pants and exposing himself to them. As I have grown up, I know this could be perfectly true. It is a nasty world and bad things happen. People harm others, even their children. There was even the rumor of hobos living in the tunnels under I-80 and we were forbidden to play at the Kiwanis, then Alf Landon Park on the edge of town. Our parents knew of the danger, but we, in innocence, really had no idea.
I felt I really had no idea of the dangers in the world or at least in West Middlesex. We played in innocence and my parents didn't spell out the problems. In a way, I learned to believe in the good in people. Did we lose that and did we need to lose that belief?
Friday, December 7, 2012
Kraynak's Part Three or Is It Tree?
We spend time here, speculating what would be great ornaments for different people. I think of my nieces in Emporium that would love the Steeler tree.
Coke signs, as well as root beer, and other pop icons are for sale. Angels serenely stare down at us as we amble through the isles. A variety of Santas from old fashioned to modern, some wearing flannel shirts and jeans wink at us. We do wonder why garland smells vaguely of cat pee.
I promise we will come back because we just scratched the surface of this end of the store, let alone not really looking at all the toys on the other side, as well as candy. There is also the subdued florist, gift shop area with the breakable, expensive merchandise. And a whole section devoted to trains.
Local or not, I highly recommend Kraynak's for that hard to find gift, as well, as the easy to find gift.
I think every interest is addressed on State Street, Hermitage, PA.
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