I have had a love/hate relationship with Holiday cards over the years.
Note: I call them "Holiday" cards because I often send them to people of different faiths, who don't all celebrate Christmas. So, don't get your undies in a wad over me calling them "Holiday" cards. That is not the point of this post, anyway.
What, you may legitimately ask, is the point of this post?
The point of this post is to talk about an aspect of Holiday card giving and receiving that I have reflected upon a great deal throughout my life.
A person who sends Holiday cards usually has a list, which is often composed of people who send cards in return. Great attention is paid to who does and who does not reciprocate in any given year. If someone does not reciprocate, he/she frequently gets axed from the Holiday card list the following year. Tit-for-tat, Christmas style.
Of course, I realize that not everybody does this. Some people don't keep a Holiday card "score." But, many people do. And here are my thoughts about that.
First of all, I don't think that anybody should feel pressured to send Holiday cards, at all. You should only do it if your heart is in it, if you enjoy it. Some people simply don't have the desire to send out Holiday cards. And that's just fine.
Some people also don't have the time to send out these cards. Hey, if you have to choose between reading a bedtime story to your child or attending to your boxes of Hallmark products, I don't blame you for choosing the former. People's lives are incredibly hectic these days. If you want to focus your Holiday time and energy on your immediate family -- making it special for them, and only them -- more power to you.
Financial constraints can be another reason why some people don't participate in the Holiday card tradition. It is an expense that may not be worthwhile for a particular individual or family. Again, perhaps your limited funds could be better spent on that special someone in your life or on your children or on your parents -- instead of on stacks of paper products and postage.
There are also people -- many people, I believe -- who find themselves in less-than-ideal states of health around the Holidays. Individuals may find themselves trying to cope -- come December -- with physical illness, emotional exhaustion, depression, horrible sadness, loneliness, feelings of being overwhelmed, spiritual dryness. The arrival of the Holiday season leaves many people at the very end of their ability to deal with life.
So, before you do your Holiday card score-keeping, it might be wise to consider these things. That person you are about to axe from your list might just be the person who could use that Holiday greeting most of all. You really don't know -- when all is said and done -- why somebody didn't send you a card this year or last year or any other year. The reasons could be complex. The reasons could be hidden from view. The reasons could be private. The reasons could be painful. And the reasons could be exactly why you need to keep that person on your list this year. You never know -- it could be the single most important action you perform this December. Holiday cards and Holiday gifts are just that -- gifts. They are things to be GIVEN -- without consideration to what is given in return.
And that person who has never sent anybody a Holiday card, EVER? Well, consider sending that person a card, too. You just might make someone very happy. ;-)
Showing posts with label The Holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Holidays. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Monday, December 9, 2013
Christmas Gift Memories
I pretty much suck at Christmas shopping. I tend to get stumped for ideas. And I worry A LOT about getting the correct sizes. Hence, I tend not to buy a lot of clothing items. Actually, I don't really buy many Christmas gifts. And I tend to keep them fairly simple. For example, my kids receive two or three relatively simple gifts from me. And then I stuff some cash in their stockings. My husband usually wants something music-oriented. This year, the music-oriented thing is a mind-boggling electronic gizmo that seems to require "additional accessories." My mind started spinning around when I looked at the web page. So, I told him to go ahead and order it for himself. I will intercept the package when it is delivered, wrap up the gift, and put it under the tree. As far as gifts for other people, I will get one for my hubby's mother. My sisters each receive a Fontanini Nativity piece from me every Christmas. And my husband's siblings usually draw names, so that each of them is responsible for buying one present (a brilliant idea, since there are five of them).
Anyway, as I perused Amazon this morning, trying to choose surprises for the people on my Christmas list, I started thinking about being a little girl. I used to get SO very excited about Santa Claus's visit. I drove my poor parents practically out of their minds every December. One reason I drove them out of their minds was because my favorite Christmas show was "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer." If you have ever watched this show, you know that a gigantic snow storm practically ruins Christmas for the ENTIRE world, and that it is only Rudolph's shiny red nose that saves the day. I absolutely loved this show, although I am convinced it was designed by stoned hippie people to turn 4- and 5-year-olds into totally neurotic and cynical little beings. I mean, after all, Christmas is practically ruined. Rudolph is totally bullied by ALL of the other reindeer. And Santa is a douche. When I think about it now... I mean... WHAT KIND OF CHILDREN'S CHRISTMAS SHOW WAS THIS, ANYWAY??? Was it written by acid-dropping, 60's era, Communist atheists? It must have been. And this show -- even though I loved it -- made me a nervous wreck about something happening that would completely destroy Christmas; and so I badgered my poor parents every day throughout the whole month of December about whether or not they thought Santa would arrive according to plan. Inevitably, he did. And he brought with him delightful toys constructed by elves who I think moonlighted as gaffers and set-decorators and script-supervisors on "Laugh-In."
So, what toys did Santa bring during this hey-day of my childhood?
Well, these were some of my favorites:
1. The Spyrograph. This was a set of plastic circles and pins and pens. You pinned the circles onto paper (I think there was some kind of pad that went under the paper). You then used the pens to turn the circles (which pivoted around the pins). This combined action of pen and pivoting circle caused wondrous patterns to unfold onto the paper. At least on the TV ads. In real life, the pins kept popping out, causing the circle to leave its proper orbit on the paper, thus ruining your hoped-for artistic masterpiece. This was a toy designed by disciples of LBJ to cause both children and parents to permanently turn against the corrupt, unregulated, capitalistic system. This toy is the reason for Obamacare and the government takeover of the American car manufacturing industry.
2. Thumbelina. This was a doll designed to look like a newborn baby. I thought she was adorable. My mother thought she was ugly. And I had to fight like the dickens in order to convince her that Santa should bring me one. I am, though, very stubborn, so I emerged victorious from the battle. I loved Thumbelina. She was tiny and scrunched-up looking (like a brand-new baby); and when you pulled a string, she would squirm around. I suppose she was a bit ugly -- to some people, anyway. Why would a company mass-produce a rather homely baby doll, you may wonder? It was Planned Parenthood. It was part of their advanced-marketing scheme to get all of us girls on birth control pills as soon as we started menstruating. "Don't give those little girls beautiful, round-faced, rosy-cheeked baby dolls to play with," those Planned Parenthood peeps whispered amongst themselves at their top-secret meetings. "Give them authentic-looking, homely baby dolls. Baby dolls which squirm around in an annoying fashion. Then we'll get their business in ten years. He-he-he." Actually, I bet if you did a study, the girls who took birth control pills in the 80's were probably the ones who hated Thumbelina, while the girls who got married and gave birth at a young age loved that funny-looking little doll.
Anyway, moving on...
3. The Dawn Doll. This was sort of a small version of the Barbie Doll. Same dimensions, but more petite. Dawn had amazingly perky breasts, a tiny waist, sexy little hips, long legs, and luxurious brown hair that reached her perfect little bottom. I had no doubt in my mind that I would look exactly like her upon reaching the magical age of 16, so I loved her with joyful abandon. And she had great clothes. Although, being that they were such tiny clothes -- with tiny snaps and hooks and eyes and arm holes and leg holes -- I constantly required the assistance of one of my parents to dress and undress her. She was, accordingly, not my parents' favorite. Why -- you may be asking yourself -- would the toy industry find it necessary to create this mini-Barbie-like-creature? Well, remember, these were the days when people were buying up The Pet Rock by the bucket-load and hanging multiple strands of multi-colored beads between the rooms of their houses in lieu of doors. All I can say is this: POT IS DANGEROUS. HEAR ME ALL OF YOU PRO-LEGALIZATION PEOPLE. OBAMACARE COULD BE FUNDED COMPLETELY BY ALL OF THE MONEY SPENT ON AVOCADO-COLORED FORMICA IN THE '70'S. A CLEAR MIND IS A VALUABLE THING. JUST SAY "NO."
4. The Barbie Country Cabin. This was the most awesome toy in the world (as long as you had adequate Barbie dolls to go with it, which I did). It looked like a little suitcase. And it unfolded into a wondrous little cabin. There were bunk beds with plastic sleeping bags, cabinets, a kitchen table, chairs, dishes, pots, pans, and a coffee pot. I had wonderful times playing with this. I used to pretend that there was an outbreak of a terrible disease and my Barbies had to hole up in this cabin in survival mode. Come to think of it, I was playing Zombie Apocalypse when "Rick" and "Darryl" were just babes in their cribs. Actually, this makes me wonder if some future TV executive -- playing in the sand at the park -- overheard me talking to my friends about my game -- as we played in the sand at the park -- and stole my idea. Lesson: copyright your children's imaginary friends.
5. The baby buggy. One year, Santa Claus brought my two sisters and I each a baby buggy. Sitting in mine, as I found it on Christmas morning, was an absolutely GORGEOUS (non-Thumbelina) baby doll, the kind that must have caused those Planned Parenthood minions much grief and many sleepless nights. The buggy also contained a delicate, sterling silver charm bracelet, with a little silver Scottie dog attached to one of its links. I loved all three of those gifts, and I still have the doll and the bracelet. I think, though, that I probably had the most fun with the buggy itself. My sisters and I used to pretend our buggies were Barbie high-rise condos. We outfitted these condos with furniture made of infant receiving blankets. We would fold and roll up those tiny blankets into sofas and chairs and rugs for the Barbie condos. Our Barbies wore fabulous clothes and had fabulous parties in their fabulously furnished baby buggy condos. Our Barbies also endured many "earthquakes" in their high-rise abodes. My sisters and I would carefully arrange our dolls on their receiving-blanket furniture and them -- wham! -- right in the middle of their hip and edgy party, a HUGE earthquake would strike. We would shake the buggy madly, causing ultimate destruction. Of course, I could not allow this to be done to my own personal buggy. So, we used my sister Diana's buggy. Gina -- even though she was the youngest -- was sly enough to realize what her eldest sister was up to and refused the use of her buggy for the purpose of natural disasters. Diana, though, being always sweet and agreeable, was quite cooperative about letting her buggy be the scene of the devastation. Eventually, whenever she pushed her dolls in this buggy, it would sway madly from side- to-side, as the springs were shot to hell. I am not quite sure if she has ever really forgiven me for this whole scenario. But, she is getting married next summer, so I'll buy her a nice wedding present.
So, as I fondly remember these gifts, I would like to extend my best wishes for the Holiday Season to all of you -- however you may celebrate it. And may you receive all the desires of your hearts. And may you find no (pet) rocks in your socks.
Anyway, as I perused Amazon this morning, trying to choose surprises for the people on my Christmas list, I started thinking about being a little girl. I used to get SO very excited about Santa Claus's visit. I drove my poor parents practically out of their minds every December. One reason I drove them out of their minds was because my favorite Christmas show was "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer." If you have ever watched this show, you know that a gigantic snow storm practically ruins Christmas for the ENTIRE world, and that it is only Rudolph's shiny red nose that saves the day. I absolutely loved this show, although I am convinced it was designed by stoned hippie people to turn 4- and 5-year-olds into totally neurotic and cynical little beings. I mean, after all, Christmas is practically ruined. Rudolph is totally bullied by ALL of the other reindeer. And Santa is a douche. When I think about it now... I mean... WHAT KIND OF CHILDREN'S CHRISTMAS SHOW WAS THIS, ANYWAY??? Was it written by acid-dropping, 60's era, Communist atheists? It must have been. And this show -- even though I loved it -- made me a nervous wreck about something happening that would completely destroy Christmas; and so I badgered my poor parents every day throughout the whole month of December about whether or not they thought Santa would arrive according to plan. Inevitably, he did. And he brought with him delightful toys constructed by elves who I think moonlighted as gaffers and set-decorators and script-supervisors on "Laugh-In."
So, what toys did Santa bring during this hey-day of my childhood?
Well, these were some of my favorites:
1. The Spyrograph. This was a set of plastic circles and pins and pens. You pinned the circles onto paper (I think there was some kind of pad that went under the paper). You then used the pens to turn the circles (which pivoted around the pins). This combined action of pen and pivoting circle caused wondrous patterns to unfold onto the paper. At least on the TV ads. In real life, the pins kept popping out, causing the circle to leave its proper orbit on the paper, thus ruining your hoped-for artistic masterpiece. This was a toy designed by disciples of LBJ to cause both children and parents to permanently turn against the corrupt, unregulated, capitalistic system. This toy is the reason for Obamacare and the government takeover of the American car manufacturing industry.
2. Thumbelina. This was a doll designed to look like a newborn baby. I thought she was adorable. My mother thought she was ugly. And I had to fight like the dickens in order to convince her that Santa should bring me one. I am, though, very stubborn, so I emerged victorious from the battle. I loved Thumbelina. She was tiny and scrunched-up looking (like a brand-new baby); and when you pulled a string, she would squirm around. I suppose she was a bit ugly -- to some people, anyway. Why would a company mass-produce a rather homely baby doll, you may wonder? It was Planned Parenthood. It was part of their advanced-marketing scheme to get all of us girls on birth control pills as soon as we started menstruating. "Don't give those little girls beautiful, round-faced, rosy-cheeked baby dolls to play with," those Planned Parenthood peeps whispered amongst themselves at their top-secret meetings. "Give them authentic-looking, homely baby dolls. Baby dolls which squirm around in an annoying fashion. Then we'll get their business in ten years. He-he-he." Actually, I bet if you did a study, the girls who took birth control pills in the 80's were probably the ones who hated Thumbelina, while the girls who got married and gave birth at a young age loved that funny-looking little doll.
Anyway, moving on...
3. The Dawn Doll. This was sort of a small version of the Barbie Doll. Same dimensions, but more petite. Dawn had amazingly perky breasts, a tiny waist, sexy little hips, long legs, and luxurious brown hair that reached her perfect little bottom. I had no doubt in my mind that I would look exactly like her upon reaching the magical age of 16, so I loved her with joyful abandon. And she had great clothes. Although, being that they were such tiny clothes -- with tiny snaps and hooks and eyes and arm holes and leg holes -- I constantly required the assistance of one of my parents to dress and undress her. She was, accordingly, not my parents' favorite. Why -- you may be asking yourself -- would the toy industry find it necessary to create this mini-Barbie-like-creature? Well, remember, these were the days when people were buying up The Pet Rock by the bucket-load and hanging multiple strands of multi-colored beads between the rooms of their houses in lieu of doors. All I can say is this: POT IS DANGEROUS. HEAR ME ALL OF YOU PRO-LEGALIZATION PEOPLE. OBAMACARE COULD BE FUNDED COMPLETELY BY ALL OF THE MONEY SPENT ON AVOCADO-COLORED FORMICA IN THE '70'S. A CLEAR MIND IS A VALUABLE THING. JUST SAY "NO."
4. The Barbie Country Cabin. This was the most awesome toy in the world (as long as you had adequate Barbie dolls to go with it, which I did). It looked like a little suitcase. And it unfolded into a wondrous little cabin. There were bunk beds with plastic sleeping bags, cabinets, a kitchen table, chairs, dishes, pots, pans, and a coffee pot. I had wonderful times playing with this. I used to pretend that there was an outbreak of a terrible disease and my Barbies had to hole up in this cabin in survival mode. Come to think of it, I was playing Zombie Apocalypse when "Rick" and "Darryl" were just babes in their cribs. Actually, this makes me wonder if some future TV executive -- playing in the sand at the park -- overheard me talking to my friends about my game -- as we played in the sand at the park -- and stole my idea. Lesson: copyright your children's imaginary friends.
5. The baby buggy. One year, Santa Claus brought my two sisters and I each a baby buggy. Sitting in mine, as I found it on Christmas morning, was an absolutely GORGEOUS (non-Thumbelina) baby doll, the kind that must have caused those Planned Parenthood minions much grief and many sleepless nights. The buggy also contained a delicate, sterling silver charm bracelet, with a little silver Scottie dog attached to one of its links. I loved all three of those gifts, and I still have the doll and the bracelet. I think, though, that I probably had the most fun with the buggy itself. My sisters and I used to pretend our buggies were Barbie high-rise condos. We outfitted these condos with furniture made of infant receiving blankets. We would fold and roll up those tiny blankets into sofas and chairs and rugs for the Barbie condos. Our Barbies wore fabulous clothes and had fabulous parties in their fabulously furnished baby buggy condos. Our Barbies also endured many "earthquakes" in their high-rise abodes. My sisters and I would carefully arrange our dolls on their receiving-blanket furniture and them -- wham! -- right in the middle of their hip and edgy party, a HUGE earthquake would strike. We would shake the buggy madly, causing ultimate destruction. Of course, I could not allow this to be done to my own personal buggy. So, we used my sister Diana's buggy. Gina -- even though she was the youngest -- was sly enough to realize what her eldest sister was up to and refused the use of her buggy for the purpose of natural disasters. Diana, though, being always sweet and agreeable, was quite cooperative about letting her buggy be the scene of the devastation. Eventually, whenever she pushed her dolls in this buggy, it would sway madly from side- to-side, as the springs were shot to hell. I am not quite sure if she has ever really forgiven me for this whole scenario. But, she is getting married next summer, so I'll buy her a nice wedding present.
So, as I fondly remember these gifts, I would like to extend my best wishes for the Holiday Season to all of you -- however you may celebrate it. And may you receive all the desires of your hearts. And may you find no (pet) rocks in your socks.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
The Berkeley Intercultural Holiday Festival
"Ryan. I am a Jewish boy. I don't know if I can be one of the Three Wise Men. Lightning might strike."
"Quiet, Seth. Or we'll miss the directions."
"Look, Ryan. Just because you have a crush on Rebecca does not mean I should be doing this."
"I don't have a crush on Rebecca. She's just a friend. And I'm helping her out. So -- PLEASE -- be QUIET."
Yep. There we were. Seth and I. At the First Berkeley Intercultural Holiday Festival. Where the Jewish kids enacted the Living Nativity Scene; the black kids lit the menorah, spun the dreidel, and cooked latkes; the Christian kids donned Kwanzaa attire; and the atheist kids read aloud from "The Collective Works Of Ted Cruz."
And -- yes -- a girl named Rebecca did have something to do with us being there. But, not because I had a crush on her. Okay. Maybe I had a little crush on her, but that really had nothing to do with it. Besides, she was dating one of the Oakland Raiders. And you just don't mess with that stuff, if you value your health.
This is the thing. We're both architecture majors -- Rebecca and I. And she's great -- really smart, creative, artsy, kind, compassionate, a free-thinker. And beautiful. Yes -- beautiful. And she came up with this idea of the Intercultural Holiday Festival. It's not really associated with the university, per se. But, a lot of the students wanted to participate. And Rebecca asked me if I would design the structure for the Nativity Scene. She wanted it to be a bit avant-garde. So, I designed a stable set into a hillside. And I fashioned it all out of biodegradable/organic/recyclable materials from the university's food service. There really wasn't straw available, of course. But you would be amazed at what you can do with cardboard boxes and a heavy-duty shredder.
Rebecca also asked if Sandy and Kirsten's new baby could play the infant Jesus. "Well, I guess so. Although, she is a girl," I told her.
"Like it matters, Atwood," Rebecca replied. "She's just a few months old. Nobody's gonna notice. And it's not like there's a whole lot of babies to choose from around here."
So, that's how Kirsten ended up showing my friend Sam how to hold a new baby. Sam was playing Joseph, and Rebecca had decided that it was about time to have a Nativity Scene in which Joseph holds the baby.
I know it all sounds a bit ridiculous, a bit disrespectful. As accepting as he is about all things Berkeley, even Sandy had his doubts. But, you know, it all came off beautifully. In spite of the initial chaos, the atmosphere ended up being quite peaceful. And everybody learned something -- about another culture, another faith, another way of looking at the world. And in viewing our differences, we also saw our similarities. We saw the things that bring us together. We realized that everybody has a heart-felt need to be heard, to be cared for, to be loved. We learned that respecting another's beliefs doesn't have to diminish our own -- whether in a family or in a country. Maybe if we respect another's sincere beliefs, that other will respect ours as well. And -- maybe -- that is a way to peace.
As I ate my latke and gazed upon Mary, who was bemusedly watching Joseph try to keep the swaddling clothes from slipping off of a fussy "Baby Jesus" -- sheltered as they were in a "cave" made of dozens upon dozens of industrial-sized egg containers, welded together by compost -- a real feeling of contentment filled me. Until -- UNTIL -- Seth's camel (courtesy of the San Francisco Zoo) decided it was time to gift us with some organic material of its own making.
So -- whistling "Jingle Bells" to myself -- I hustled off to get the shovel.
Happy Holidays!
"Quiet, Seth. Or we'll miss the directions."
"Look, Ryan. Just because you have a crush on Rebecca does not mean I should be doing this."
"I don't have a crush on Rebecca. She's just a friend. And I'm helping her out. So -- PLEASE -- be QUIET."
Yep. There we were. Seth and I. At the First Berkeley Intercultural Holiday Festival. Where the Jewish kids enacted the Living Nativity Scene; the black kids lit the menorah, spun the dreidel, and cooked latkes; the Christian kids donned Kwanzaa attire; and the atheist kids read aloud from "The Collective Works Of Ted Cruz."
And -- yes -- a girl named Rebecca did have something to do with us being there. But, not because I had a crush on her. Okay. Maybe I had a little crush on her, but that really had nothing to do with it. Besides, she was dating one of the Oakland Raiders. And you just don't mess with that stuff, if you value your health.
This is the thing. We're both architecture majors -- Rebecca and I. And she's great -- really smart, creative, artsy, kind, compassionate, a free-thinker. And beautiful. Yes -- beautiful. And she came up with this idea of the Intercultural Holiday Festival. It's not really associated with the university, per se. But, a lot of the students wanted to participate. And Rebecca asked me if I would design the structure for the Nativity Scene. She wanted it to be a bit avant-garde. So, I designed a stable set into a hillside. And I fashioned it all out of biodegradable/organic/recyclable materials from the university's food service. There really wasn't straw available, of course. But you would be amazed at what you can do with cardboard boxes and a heavy-duty shredder.
Rebecca also asked if Sandy and Kirsten's new baby could play the infant Jesus. "Well, I guess so. Although, she is a girl," I told her.
"Like it matters, Atwood," Rebecca replied. "She's just a few months old. Nobody's gonna notice. And it's not like there's a whole lot of babies to choose from around here."
So, that's how Kirsten ended up showing my friend Sam how to hold a new baby. Sam was playing Joseph, and Rebecca had decided that it was about time to have a Nativity Scene in which Joseph holds the baby.
I know it all sounds a bit ridiculous, a bit disrespectful. As accepting as he is about all things Berkeley, even Sandy had his doubts. But, you know, it all came off beautifully. In spite of the initial chaos, the atmosphere ended up being quite peaceful. And everybody learned something -- about another culture, another faith, another way of looking at the world. And in viewing our differences, we also saw our similarities. We saw the things that bring us together. We realized that everybody has a heart-felt need to be heard, to be cared for, to be loved. We learned that respecting another's beliefs doesn't have to diminish our own -- whether in a family or in a country. Maybe if we respect another's sincere beliefs, that other will respect ours as well. And -- maybe -- that is a way to peace.
As I ate my latke and gazed upon Mary, who was bemusedly watching Joseph try to keep the swaddling clothes from slipping off of a fussy "Baby Jesus" -- sheltered as they were in a "cave" made of dozens upon dozens of industrial-sized egg containers, welded together by compost -- a real feeling of contentment filled me. Until -- UNTIL -- Seth's camel (courtesy of the San Francisco Zoo) decided it was time to gift us with some organic material of its own making.
So -- whistling "Jingle Bells" to myself -- I hustled off to get the shovel.
Happy Holidays!
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