Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts

Monday, December 24, 2007

Ho Ho Ho-me For the Holidays?



Ho Ho Ho!

Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/Jolly Festivus/Dandy Diwali/Groovy Eid and all that jazz! Wishes for a holiday with the love of family, extra fatty foods heartily enjoyed, and a few days of delicious sloth.

Here's a couple of pics of me at work--proof that I am working today, tomorrow and New Year's Eve, New Year's Day--something I have never done in a 25 year work history. At first it seemed odd to be working these days that I used to hold in such high reverence. Actually, I still hold them as such, as they symbolize for me, the best of family. But since family is in CT this year and I am here, I figured, why not work? The world keeps turning, and hotels never sleep. Ironic, huh? Kinda fun being cheerful and giving good customer service--those that it doesn't make suspicious really enjoy it. After work, my great friend Lynell and her hubby Ian have invited me (and Fugee!) to their home for a Slavic Christmas Eve dinner--looking forward to it. Friends are family, too.

Some of the sweetest memories I hold are of our Hermes' Christmases--Mom in constant song since Thanksgiving, decorating every ledge in our house with family treasures, many having seen better days maybe 50 years earlier, stuffing our faces with spritz camels and wreaths, chocolate logs with holly leaves, pecan balls, peppermint fondant that had the quality of candy cane Play Doh, homemade advent cards, an advent wreath with della robia fruit made the day President Kennedy was assassinated, precious styrofoam Aunt Dottie elves looking like they had been in a horrible ten sleigh pile up--missing limbs, eyes, feet, heads--but still magic.

So many memories, fun to recall. Flaming plum pudding that rarely lit the first time, served with a chorus of Deck the Halls, Oyster Stew, boring slide shows of the Holy Land narrated by our two hundred year old neighbor Edgar Brown, great conversations between the generations. Gay, Paul, Dickie, Jim, Grammie, Grampa, Mom and Dad. Scott & I getting to open one present Christmas Eve. Snoopy & Scamper with their Christmas bows. Hopmeadow Street was Christmas. Memories wrapped in a golden cast of nostalgia, many of the traditions non-repeatable, making them even more special.

So that is a lot of what Christmas was, but the Christmas is is just as beautiful, just different. I hope you have a chance to think back today to some of your special memories, your history a Christmas Present.

What do I wish for a New Year?

More time with family & friends. Being better about remaining in touch. Getting that marathon recap email out...

And for YOU, I wish abundance, amazing health, loads of laughter, love, peace. Okay, I wish it for me too.

Have a happy happy holiday.

Love

Craig n Fu

"And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more"

~ Dr. Seuss

Sunday, December 24, 2006

ho.ho ho!


Ho Ho Ho,

http://www.elfyourself.com/?userid=a1830fdaf36524858e63ee8G06122412

Happy Holidays!

Craig n Fugee
::_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_::

"And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more"

~ Dr. Seuss

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Pure Joy.


It's funny how the Christmas season makes it seem like it's been a thousand years since I last hugged my Mom. And at the same time, it was just yesterday. I still feel her presence around me to a very strong degree.

We were people cut from the same cloth--generally laughing, embracing new concepts and odd ideas, a little left of normal. Hey, she was one of the very first people to come up with the concept of aerobics classes for women, water aerobics, she took and taught belly dancing in the '70s in conservative Connecticut. She acted, taught music, studied myotherapy, took rock climbing though DEATHLY afraid of heights, was involved in numerous acts of charity, heart, compassion and friendship.

To me she was a loving, laughing, singing, shining example of what it means to be a luminous human being. Surviving multiple tragedies and always coming through the other side more grateful, more joyous, more loving.

I remember the profound joy she took in the holidays. Starting the day after Thanksgiving, she became giddy like a child, unwrapping precious ornaments and figures, each having a unique history that we enjoyed hearing each year. She also spent Christmas remembering her beloved Aunt Dottie, another free spirit guided by a love of life, family and song—and who was taken too young.

As Jane was putting out the Christmas elves that Mom & Dottie made the year I was born, she said, "These are kind of creepy." I could see where she'd say that. Without the history, they are just a bunch of 40+ year old felt scraps and detached heads--like there had been some horrible incident at Santa's holiday soirée. Perhaps a tragic baking accident or a serial Grinch.

But to me, when I see these sorry little dwarves, I hear her laugh, see her tear up at the thought of Aunt Dottie, smell chocolate log cookies baking in the oven, and hear Julie Andrews singing "Bells of Christmas."

I am so glad to see my brother sharing our genetic love of Christmas with his kids, telling the stories, making sure the lights are just right, as my niece, feigning annoyance, rolls her eyes and says "Dad just has to tell the stories about every ornament..." secretly loving the fact that he does.

When I found this picture today, in a box not opened for 20 years, I was transported. I remember the camera that took it, a Polaroid Swinger, was a Christmas staple.

Amongst the collection of paper scraps, faded pictures of forgotten moments, torn snapshots, the smell of mold and old chemicals, memories lay ready to trigger the heart.

I wish my Mom had lived to see her beautiful grandkids. She could have shared the same old dusty stories and ornaments, with a vibrant and heartfelt love, which made them sacred.

Mom, I miss you, but as it is Christmas, I hear your laugh, I feel you here.

Thank you.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

What if...?


"And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more"

~ Dr. Seuss