Monthly Archives: December 2010

Nostalgia

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Now where the dinkly doo did all those cool things go? I don’t know why, but last night, I was in quite the melancholy, nostalgic mood. Watching news coverage of the blizzard up in Cleveland while sitting on my couch, wrapped in my electric blanket, eating a cheezer and chicken soup made me all wistful and maudlin. Sometimes I get that way, and I can’t explain it. It’s very much like the feeling I get when I hear certain harmonic progressions or lyrics, especially if they’re sad. I can’t describe it, but it’s pretty intense.

Anyhow, I started thinking of things you just don’t see anymore:

  1. Rotary pay phones (for the ‘snappers, they look like this)
  2. Milk delivered to the doorstep (our Grandmas Johnson and Murphy had metal milk boxes on their porches)
  3. “Service stations” where guys in blue uniforms pumped the gas, checked the oil and cleaned the windshield, at no extra charge
  4. Mimeographed copies (also called “dittos” or “spirit masters”). I loved the smell of them as a kid.
  5. Basketball players wearing shorts that didn’t look like saggy, wet diapers (at this rate, it’s only a matter of time before they’re wearing palazzo pants)
  6. Paper grocery bags by default
  7. Kids using a clothespin to fasten a playing card to their bike wheels so the spokes made noise
  8. Roller skates that required a key
  9. The “dime store” – haha
  10. School milk cartons that had the round pull tab on the top

What do you remember? I’ll bet you miss lots of things from a time when the world was simpler. Like last week.

FO

Like it was yesterday

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That’s how I remember it.

On 8 December, 1980, I was pacing my living room floor while watching a football game, with a sleepy six-week-old Seamus in my arms, when the news broke sometime in the late evening. Howard Cosell said something like, “It’s hard to go back to the game after reporting this.”

Strangely though, I remember nothing else about that night, except the tears that followed.

Those who know me know that the Beatles — John Lennon, especially — occupy a deep, private, important place in my heart. Heck, my soul. Their music spoke to me first in the late 60s, as a confused pre-teenager. I knew their earlier songs because my aunts used to play their records when they’d come to babysit Mavis and me. As I got older, I delved deeper into their stuff, and before long, I knew (and eventually owned) all of their mainstream albums.

But John’s voice and lyrics always held the top drawer space. There is no voice on the planet like his, although his son Julian’s comes pretty close. I can’t believe it’s been 30 years.

Speaking of dying: that’s what I felt was going to happen last night. I was closing up my classroom around 8:45 p.m. to go home after watching the first half of the  basketball game. I forgot about the presence of a big cinder block, which I sometimes use to prop the door open. I tripped over it and went down, hard, on my hands. Everything in my arms went flying. The good news: I can type this morning. As long as I don’t put any downward pressure on my right hand — like, oh, trying to play the piano or move the gearshift in the car — I’m fine. Today’s rehearsals should be interesting. Oi.

Imagine there’s no Christmas music…

Infamy

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Most of the time, war requires preparation. People know it’s coming; oftentimes, it’s a gradual progression to conflict. Not so with 7 December, 1941. For many years after, important people swore it would be the last time the United States would be caught unawares on such a huge scale. That held true until September 2001.

I remember Dad talking about Pearl Harbor; his contention was that FDR didn’t do enough. Dad always said that Roosevelt knew about the possibility of an attack, but instead of sending a personal envoy to Hawaii to warn them, he was caught up in transmitting telegrams to the Emperor of Japan. I don’t know if that’s true (I don’t subscribe to conspiracy theories, usually), and I haven’t the time to look it up right now, but it seems that even the worst of presidents — and there have been quite a few, from both parties, let’s admit it — would act in the country’s best interest before trying to talk someone out of declaring war.

But that’s just me.

I don’t make light of Pearl Harbor, or trivialize it in any way. I can’t imagine the horror of that morning. Final death toll after the 90-minute attack: 64 Japanese, and 2,386 Americans. War is not funny.

This week has two important historical tragedies; one more tomorrow. But for now, I hit the shower and the snowy road. Christmastime is here, happiness and cheer…

Shyeah right. Bah!

TTI V

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OK, True Confessions time. And this one’s going to be unpopular.

I think Christmas cards are mostly a waste of time, postage, paper, energy and space. Now before you put me in the stocks and chop off my hands, or call me a Scrooge, or remove me from your Christmas card list, hear me out.

I’ve read a dozen different takes on this issue, from “It’s a very nice gesture,” to “It’s an irresponsible waste of resources.” I’m somewhere in the middle. I like getting Christmas cards that have a personalized message that took more effort than just signing a name (Mavis is famous for the warmhearted written sentiment that hits the spot). Sometimes I receive Christmas cards with pictures in them; that’s a nice thought, too.

On the few occasions I’ve sent out cards at Christmas, each one contained some kind of personalized message, because I figured anything less amounted to just my autograph on a pretty picture — and who on earth wants that? It’s not that greeting cards have no place in my life; rather, if I’m going to send them out, they’re going to have something in them, like a gift card, money, or a well-thought-out, heartfelt personalized message. Anything else, to me, is just wasteful.

What do you do with your Christmas cards after you remove them from the fireplace mantle or door frame? Do you send them to the recycling center (which involves cost, labor and resources), put them in a box forever (???), or just throw them in the garbage, bound for the landfill?

You could reuse them by cutting out the pictures and making cool things, or fashion gift tags out of them for presents. But honestly, who has time for that? Not many people I know.

Then there’s the oft-vilified “Christmas update letter” sent out by some families, apprising everyone of what’s going on in their lives. Some think it’s tacky or pretentious. I disagree. I think it’s a great idea, especially when the recipients and senders don’t often see one another. Even if it’s a photocopied letter, it still beats opening the card and reading “The Smiths,” or “Aunt Evelyn and Uncle John.” Where’s the Christmas spirit in that? If you’re going to send me a picture of the Star of Bethlehem, an angel chorus, a Currier & Ives scene or a polar bear wearing a Santa hat, write something pithy on the back of it. Give me something to read besides your signature.

Or you could go to MoonPig.com for some personalized awesomeness. Now I could have some fun there.

Back when I had ambition and a life, I used to do a Christmas webpage for our family, dedicating a section to each member. I’d email the address to everyone on my mailing list. I got a lot of nice feedback from it, and struck up some great email conversations with people I hadn’t communicated with in a long time. But I also understand that doing a website is not everyone’s idea of reaching out during the holidays. That’s OK. My way isn’t the only way, which is why I will accept any and all Christmas cards this year with grace and humility.

:-)

Thank you

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Merci beaucoup, gracias, danke, hvala lepa, bedankt. Thank you, thank you.

Thank you to whoever or whatever gave me this plague. You have no idea of the passion with which I long to repay you for your generosity. Not only can I not see my grandchildren today, I get to clear away clutter and wrap gifts and do school work.

I know, stop complaining. Truthfully though, I’m amazed at how many family and fiends are ill right now, all with one of two ailments: terrible sinus infections and nasty colds (me, the Thriller, others) and the dreaded stomach virus. Jake and Justin’s other grammie has pneumonia. This is awful. Happy holidays, right? However, cursory research on the topic reveals it’s pretty much S.O.P.

According to the Palo Alto Medical Foundation:

The URI (upper respiratory infection, or the common cold and its cousins) is estimated to cost $3.5 BILLION a year in the US alone, and accounts for 40 percent of the time lost from jobs and as many as 23 million lost school days.

That’s a lot of Kleenex and DayQuil, fiends. But hey, at least we have remedies to help with symptoms. Here’s a weird thing, though: I know people who don’t take anything to lessen their misery — and it’s not because of physical issues like high blood pressure or allergic reactions. They just resign themselves to suffering it out, and in the meantime, lose hours upon hours of sleep to incessant coughing or the inability to breathe with their mouths shut. This baffles the Fink. I mean, I’m all for being a tough guy and all, but when it interferes with my beauty rest, and hence my mood/performance/attitude at work, I’ll be a simpering weenie any day. Besides, I need all the beauty rest I can get.

Speaking of which…

Nah, nevermind. Coffee’s done and there’s work to do. Boo hoo. Happy weekend to you.

FO