Starting Over Again

My children love to stand over the furnace register on cold, winter mornings.  They crawl out of bed and head immediately to the inviting warmth of the side room register.  Often they wrap blankets around their necks and the forced air inflates the blankets into large cones.  The register always brightens their mood, brings them comfort, and puts a smile on their face.

This morning my 3-yr.-old daughter, Rose, woke up in a bright and lovely mood.   As I sat at the table reading, she came in and gave me one of her million dollar smiles.  After talking for a few moments about last night's dreams she went to sit on the couch with her 5-yr.-old brother Nathanael, who was reading a book.  I had no clue of the disaster that was about to suddenly strike our household.  Within seconds Rose was hyperventilating with dramatic tears.  She claimed that Nathanael had scratched her foot and wouldn't leave her alone (not unusual).  Nothing I did or said improved the situation, and she remained adamantly inconsolable (also not unusual).

Several minutes later I called the kids in for breakfast.  Rose sat on the couch and refused to come in and eat.  I looked at her and said, "Sweetheart.  Please come sit down with your brother and sister for breakfast."  "But my foot hurts!  Nathan scratched me!" she insisted.

I knew arguing with her when she was upset like this was fruitless.  So I suggested something I knew would make her feel better.  "Why don't you go stand on the register.  It's on right now."

"No!!!  I don't want to!"  She wailed.

"Are you sure?" I asked.  "If you stand on the register, I think it will make you feel better.  You'll see things a little differently if you do."

"No!!!  It's not even working!" she cried.

I glanced over toward the register.   The fronds of our spider plant above the register blew back and forth, clearly indicating the furnace had kicked on.  In the background I could hear the soft hum of the air blowing through the ducts.

"Rose, this will help you feel better," I said.  "Lift your arms."  I gently picked her and set her down on the register.  "No!  It's not working!  It's not working!" she yelled as the air from the register blew her hair up over her ears.  She was so angry at her brother that she refused to be comforted by the warmth of the furnace.  At that moment it didn't even exist.  Tears streamed down her face and spittle hung from the corner of her mouth. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

After several seconds I said, "Okay.  Why don't we start over.  Do you think we could do that?"  Rose hesitated a moment and after a bit more encouraging headed back upstairs to her room. Sometimes when a day begins like this one did, the kids go back to bed and we start the day all over again.  Five minutes later I walked upstairs and went into her room.  "Good morning sweetheart!  Did you sleep okay?  How about some breakfast?"  The tears and the anger disappeared, and Rose soon sat at the table to eat her Honeycomb.  The sad, grumpy little Rose disappeared as well and a new Rose took her place.

Thank God we can start over.

More later. . .

The Basketball Strangler: The Aftermath

(Before reading this entry, you should probably read my post from 11/07/09 for context.  The Basketball Strangler: Part One)

In the summertime I work at a Christian retreat center as the director of music and worship.  The conference grounds are located on the beautiful shores of Lake Michigan.  Each week of the summer season features a different bible teacher, and families from all over the country go there to spend their vacation.  It's truly a wonderful place to work and to visit.

During our first summer working there, one of our featured speakers was a pastor of a prominent megachurch located near Chicago.  He was a gifted and passionate communicator and his love for God and for the Scriptures was infectious.  My parents were visiting at the time and my mom, who is sometimes difficult to impress, liked him very much.  His first message was on Sunday morning and he shared a bit of his story with us.

He'd grown up in northeast Ohio and was a basketball player in high school.  He went on to play in college at Bowling Green, where he met his current wife.  The inspiring part of his story was how his life had been radically changed after he became a follower of Jesus at age 27.  He eventually left the corporate world to pursue Christian pastoral work.  I grew up in Northeast Ohio myself, so I approached him after the service to talk about our common roots.  This is how our conversation went as best as I can remember it:

"Thank you for your message," I said.

"You're welcome.  Thanks for your music," he replied.

"So you grew up in Northeast Ohio.  I did too.  Are you a Tribe fan?"  I asked.

"Absolutely.  They're playing great ball right now.  It's hard because everyone at my church asks me why I'm not a Cubs fan.  I always say, 'Same difference!' "

"So what town in northeast Ohio did you grow up in?" I asked.

"Kirtland."

Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of my neck.  Something began to not-so-gently gnaw at my brain as I talked to him.  "And you played basketball right?  What year did you graduate from high school?" I asked.

"1982,"  he said.

I was suddenly queasy, sort of like when you see a picture of an old girlfriend.  "My older brother graduated in 1982, and he also played basketball," I said.

"Oh yeah?  What high school did he go to?"

"Cardinal.  Cardinal Huskies." I said.

A moment passed as he looked at me.  A confused expression came across his face as he desperately searched his brain trying to put the pieces together of what I was already beginning to realize.  I just waited.

"What high school did you say your brother went to again?" he asked.

"You're that guy!  You're him!"  I exclaimed.

His eyes grew huge as it all clicked and he realized what I was talking about.  He threw up his hands.  "I didn't do anything!" he said adamantly.  "For years everyone has blamed me for what happened, but I didn't do anything!"

"Whatever!  I was there that night!"  I said.  "It's one of my most vivid memories!  I can't believe it.  After all these years to actually meet you in person.  My dad is gonna crap.  My family has talked about that night often."

We both started laughing because of the absurdity of it all.  He laughed even harder when I told him that my parents were visiting that week.  I brought my dad over to talk to Ron and they had a great time reliving that night.  My mom, on the other hand, was not at all amused by the improbable revelation.  Once she found out who this guy was, her anger from that night at the basketball game resurfaced.  After the service we all went to the Sweet Shop and had ice cream together.  Everyone had a great time laughing and getting to know each other.  Everyone except my mom, who spent the entire time giving Ron her evil eye.

The situation was aggravated the next morning when Ron shared his side of the story with the 250 or so people gathered for the morning service.  According to him, he never intentionally kicked Cardinal's player.  His recollection is that after he was shoved to the floor, he inadvertently stepped on Robert's balls as he tried to stand up.  He freely admits that he was an arrogant and cocky player, but that he never viciously kicked him.  He said that he doesn't have much recollection of what happened during the melee after he got tackled.  That's probably because his forehead was bashed into the hardwood floor.

This really pissed my mom off because she felt like he was using the situation to elevate himself, and she questioned his contrite humility about the whole thing.  She may very well be right in thinking that.  To further complicate events, Ron said he had actual video evidence to corroborate his version of what happened.  I was honestly skeptical of this until several months later I received an email from Ron containing a link to a youtube video of the game.  Ron had a VHS copy of the game film from that night, and a friend of his converted the video and posted it on youtube.  I must say that watching it the first time gave me chills because I can actually see myself, my brother and my parents in the video.  Talk about deja vu.  It's quite compelling. 

Before I share the link to the video, I want to say something about this whole situation.  Before I became a follower of Jesus I was a real bastard.  In the years before my conversion I alienated a lot of people because of my bad choices and selfish lifestyle.  I've grown accustomed to people from my past refusing to believe that I've changed and that I'm any different from the person they remember.  I think it's part of the consequences we pay for living a life rejecting Jesus.  But I am an adamant believer that ANYONE can have a changed life because NO ONE is beyond the reach of the grace of God.  I also believe that we can rehearse and replay old events so often that we block out the feasibility that someone who's hurt us in the past could possibly be different.  I probably won't run into Ron Z***** again, but seeing his changed life now reminds me of how much grace there is in a relationship with Christ.  It shows me how much good God has in store for me if I can only trust Him.

It's unfortunate (or perhaps providential) that the video doesn't show the exact moment of the alleged kick in the balls.  The camera followed the action of the play, and the incident happens just out of the camera's view.  The players on both teams and the referees all had their backs to Ron and Robert.  The only people who could've clearly witnessed the incident are the Cardinal fans in the bleachers.  From the tape you see a man immediately stand up and yell at Z***** while he's pointing to Robert's genitals.  And within seconds the fit hits the shan.  (Read Part One of Basketball Strangler).

If I had to draw a conclusion, I would say that Ron Z***** did give him a shot in the crotch.  Maybe Ron got what he deserved (and maybe Robert did too).  Who knows?  But it sure is fun to talk about. 

Watch the video and you make the call.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t76OrX2aJHY 

More later . . .

The Basketball Strangler: Part One

"You're that guy!  You're him!"  I exclaimed to the man.

The man's eyes grew huge as he realized what I was talking about.  "I didn't do anything!" he said adamantly.  "For years everyone has blamed me for what happened, but I didn't do anything!"  And he claimed to have evidence to prove it.  I couldn't believe it.

25 years earlier . . .

I was eight years old in 1982.  I was sitting with my parents in the visitor's bleachers at Kirtland High School gymnasium watching our Cardinal Huskies do battle with a far superior Kirtland squad.  My older brother was playing on the team and we weren't expected to even compete.

The Kirtland Hornets had a gym that felt like a penitentiary: drab, dark and crawling with convicts.  Their star player was a senior named Ron Z*****, and he could shoot the lights out.  He was a trash-talking, arrogant player and had the skills to back it up.  He was also known around the league for playing dirty.

It was just before the half when Ron Z***** broke open and launched a moon shot right in front of where I was sitting.  When he came down he was boxed out by Robert Soltis, one of Cardinal's defenders.  They both fell down out of bounds and hit the first row of bleachers.  Things happened quickly after that:

Everyone's attention followed the ball across the court, so Ron took the opportunity to give a hard kick to Robert's testicles.  The visitor's bleachers erupted with angry boos and shouts, because we all had seen Ron's attack on Robert's balls.  We also watched as Robert slowly rocked back on forth, trying to slake the overwhelming pain in his gut by cradling his junk in his hands.  Then Z***** stood up, turned his back to us and walked away.  It was right then that everything began to move in slow motion.

From behind me a small man began descending the bleachers two at a time.  He slid quickly past my dad, jumped to the floor and started running toward Ron Z*****.  Instantly my dad popped out of his seat to try and stop him, but was too late to prevent what happened next.  As Ron slowly walked away from where Robert lay groaning on the hardwood, the crazed fan tackled him violently from behind, driving his head into the court floor.  The court filled instantly with punching, kicking, and screaming players and fans.  Everyone was fighting in one big, angry mass.  It was a melee.

I have several intense, vivid memories from that night.  The first is my mother's screams.  Once my dad jumped out of his seat, my mother grabbed my arm and held me down, screaming at the top of her lungs.  Another is seeing my angry brother in a wrestling match with another Kirtland player.  Another is my dad kneeling down trying to help Robert, who just lay on the floor holding himself.  And then there was the announcer's panicked voice over the PA, making a futile attempt to take control of the mob.

After several minutes the coaches and on duty police officers were finally able to get things under control.  They were eventually able to finish the game, and Cardinal suffered another defeat, made worse by the sight of one of our fans being arrested for assaulting a minor.  The crazed fan was the dad of one of our players and at the time was a member of the school board.  He got cuffed and stuffed.

Over the years the events of that night were retold dozens of times and quickly became part of our family's oral history.  And of course Ron Z***** became increasingly more evil with each telling until he'd almost become the devil himself.  At least, that's the caricature my family had created of him.  Little did I know that the story wasn't finished being written.

More later . . .

I'm Beginning to Understand Blogs

This morning I had an epiphany while enjoying my morning coffee: I'm beginning to understand some of the numerous reasons why people blog. An acquaintance of mine says cynically, "People blog because they want attention and validation. . . duh." Perhaps. Blogging as a medium has rapidly grown in popularity and significance in the last several years. Writers and journalists who once dismissed blogs as illegitimate, now regularly contribute their own words to the blogosphere. As printed media continues it's decline, the significance of blogs and web-based media increases. As of 2007, there were over 112 million blogs (wikipedia.com). Who knows how many there will be in ten years.

My aforementioned acquaintance is correct when she asserts that for some, blogging is an act of self-importance seeking public validation . . . duh. Some people use blogs and tweets to negotiate trade negotiations (see OchoCinco) or to make knee-jerk apologies for their ridiculous antics (see Kanye West). Sports writers blog away during high profile games or the professional draft. There are food blogs, music blogs, church blogs, book blogs, surfing blogs, parenting blogs, car blogs, blogs about blogging, blogs, blogs, blogs, blogs. The sheer volume of blogs in the blogosphere illustrates an interesting variable in this conversation. With so many blogs being written, it is quickly apparent that we as humans have something to say. It's part of who we are anthropologically to express ourselves. God created us to create. So it makes sense so many people are saying so many things.

The vast number of blogs is also evidence of another variable in this discussion. There are simply too many words out there. Marilyn McEntire wrote in the September 2009 issue of Christianity Today about the careful use of language, ("Letting Words Do Their Work" http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2009/september/32.55.html). She discussed the innate power of words and how powerful language has lost much of its purchase in our culture because of overuse and misuse (lack of precision). If you appreciate language and the careful use of words, you will highly appreciate this article.

George Will recently compared President Obama to "audible wallpaper". He said, "Our President has become the nation's elevator music, always out and about, heard but not really listened to". He was talking about the President's recent stumping for support of his health care plan. This demonstrates an important point about communication: The more people one leads, the more important and weighty their words become. A wise leader uses fewer words less often. Does the same principle ring true with our own words (or our own blogs)?

I now have about 15 entries in my blog that I started over 18 months ago. Let me succinctly say (too late), as I look back I see that my blog entries have taken me a fair amount of time to think through and write. I've also noticed that my "urge to blog" is not consistent or predictable. It's been six months since my last entry. I currently have a few things I want to write about (mostly for my own reflection and process). When those are finished who knows when the urge will come again.

The crux of the epiphany is this: For me and some others, blogging helps to intelligently process through things that are rattling around in my mind and crashing through my life. I have two people currently following my blog. Who cares?! But I somehow feel like I've taken positive steps to meditate and process some of my current circumstances. I'd like the words I choose to mean something and have weight. God created me to create creatively.

Does anything I just wrote make any sense? Probably not.

Why does the phone always ring when you're on the can?

I don't know.

More Later . . .

Top 25 Songs of Summer

This is a list of my Top 25 Songs for Summer. Twenty-five isn't nearly enough to cover much ground, but we'll at least get a start. The songs on this list are tied to strong vibes and emotions that awaken my mind and heart to summer. As a smell can trigger powerful memories, these songs are tied to specific places, times, and activities of summers throughout my life.

#1-4 are all part of Michael Stanley's Weekend Kickoff on 98.5 WNCX. Every Friday at 5pm Michael Stanley plays the same four tunes in a row, officially starting the weekend in Cleveland. I live in Cincinnati now, and so I have the songs in my iPod and I play them on Friday whenever I'm in the car.

#1 Born to Run -- Bruce Springsteen (1975) -- this is the song that got me hooked on Springsteen. This is probably not an uncommon story.

#2 This Beat Goes On -- The Kings (1980) -- it's a shame that no one knows who this band is. This song and #3 are written to play one after the other. And they rock ass!!

#3 Switchin' to Glide -- The Kings (1980)

#4 Bang the Drum All Day -- Todd Rundgren (1983) -- Did you know that Todd Rundgren played guitar and produced Bat Out of Hell by Meatloaf?



The rest of the list reflects some (but not all) of the songs that remind me of summer. You'll note that there are no Beatles, Creedence, Led Zeppelin, U2 or Beach Boys on this list. The Beach Boys and Creedence both are their own genres of summer music. This list reflects the songs that are tied to some of earliest and strongest memories of summer, stretching from my youth into my college years.

#5 Baba O'Riley -- The Who (1971) - Is this the best Who song?

#6 Walk of Life -- Dire Straits (1985) - The organ hook at the beginning grabs me every time.

#7 The Boys of Summer (1984) -- Don Henley - His best song by himself (1984). I dated a girl with brown skin that shined in the sun.

#8 Summer of '69 -- Brian Adams (1983) -- the classic summer rock song for me and my friends.

#9 Jack & Diane -- John Cougar (1982) -- How many people have you seen play air guitar to the repeated acoustic line in this song?

#10 A Kind of Magic -- Queen (1986) -- Freddie Mercury died when I was a senior in high school. Queen was having a huge resurgence at that time because of the movie Wayne's World, which introduced "Bohemian Rhapsody" to a whole new generation. I bought the tape Classic Queen on a date with my girlfriend near the end of my senior year. "A Kind of Magic" was the first track. I played that tape 'til it broke.

#11 My Best Friend's Girl -- The Cars (1978) -- I'm a Cars fan mainly because I had two older brothers who blasted this fabulous music from their attic bedroom when I was a little, little kid.

#12 All Along the Watchtower -- Jimi Hendrix (1968) -- Try to sit back and listen to this like you're hearing it for the first time.

#13 Let's Go Crazy -- Prince (1984) -- Sorry Jimi, Prince's guitar is a shade better than yours (especially here), and he didn't kill himself.

#14 Won't Get Fooled Again -- The Who (1971) -- Is the Who possibly better than the Beatles? or U2?

#15 Burn On -- Randy Newman (1972) -- Even though this song is about the Cuyahoga River catching on fire (which is a great source of shame for Clevelanders), I love it. It's from the great film Major League.

#16 My Town -- Michael Stanley Band (1983) -- the all-time Cleveland fight song. I love this song.

#17 Love Stinks -- J. Geils Band (1980) -- A great anti-relationship song. My brother had this album.

#18 NightSwimming -- R.E.M. (1992) -- On my first date with my wife (July 1994), we went swimming late at night at my friend Bobby's pond. It was like we acted out this song. I remember thinking about it in my head when it was happening.

#19a Centerfield -- John Fogerty (1985) -- John Fogerty's great song about playing baseball. The music video is a great montage of black and white baseball reels.

#19b Heat of the Moment -- Asia (1982) -- after listening to this song again it's not that great. But it still takes me back to summers growing up.

#20 Bat out Of Hell -- Meatloaf (1977) -- 10 minutes of awesome, gushing, over the top, noir rock 'n roll.

#21 Hungry Heart -- Bruce Springsteen (1980) -- There are ten potential Springsteen songs that are on my summer list. His music more than anyone's makes me want to mow my grass, crack open a High Life and stretch out in lawn chair. Awesome!

#22 Life's Been Good -- Joe Walsh (1978) -- My brothers had this album. I thought the James Gang was a bunch of cowboys back then.

#23 The End of the Innocence -- Don Henley (1989) -- This was more my college years. My friend Matt owned this CD and we listened to it incessantly. On Spring Break in 1993 I learned all the lyrics to this song by heart.

#24 Freebird -- Lynyrd Skynyrd (1974) -- I used to listen to this one over and over driving around after toking. Once again, college years.

#25 Maggot Brain -- Funkadelic (1971) -- Every Saturday night on WNCX they closed out their Saturday Night request show at midnight with Maggot Brain. It's a 10 min. acid guitar solo in E. Sweet.

5 Alternates -- in case you don't like any of the first 25.

Alt. #1 American Girl -- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (1977)

Alt. #2 Heartache Tonight -- Eagles (1979)

Alt. #3 He Can't love You -- Michael Stanley Band (1980)

Alt. #4 Paradise By the Dashboard Light -- Meatloaf (1977)

Alt. #5 Time Warp/Sweet Transvestite -- Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

More Later . . . 

No Line on the Horizon - A Review

"Crap. Are you kidding me?"

That was my response to my friend Artie's comment that the new U2 sounded like Coldplay. He'd pre-ordered No Line on the Horizon on iTunes and gotten a sneak peak at the title track.

I felt like I would vomit.

But alas, it turns out that my friend had seriously misguided me. It's not Coldplay (thank God). No Line on the Horizon took me a bit by surprise, but so far I've liked it more each time I listen to it, which is a good sign.

Let me start by going back to 1991. U2 redefined their sound with the release of Achtung Baby, which contains six unparalleled tracks that have since become part of the sonic fabric of rock 'n roll. Their song "One" is one of the most important songs written in the last 35 years. After setting the bar beyond anyone's reach with The Joshua Tree, instead of retreating into safety by trying to replicate Joshua Tree, they broke new ground by using bold new guitar effects, more complex rhythms and darker lyrics. The result was the best rock album of the '90s.

Now it's 2009 and U2 has enjoyed 8 uninterrupted years of global success and popularity. Their two most recent albums, All That You Can't Leave Behind and How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, are practically perfect. U2 symbolizes all that is cool and good. Does any other band have their own iPod? Does any other band appear on David Letterman more than one night? Enough said. . .

This is why No Line on the Horizon will endure, and probably will become one of their most important works. Their amazing popularity and influence have given them complete autonomy when creating a new album. Once again, instead of retreating into safety and putting out the same old crap album after album (see Creed, Nickelback, Coldplay, Creed, the Rolling Stones, or Creed), they've once again forged ahead into the new.

On No Line, they make us wait (almost gleefully) for a hard-edged rock tune. "Get On Your Boots" is the only balls out rock song, and it doesn't appear until track six. That along with Stand Up Comedy are the only obvious singles on the album.

Some of my favorite moments on No Line are:

1. Get On Your Boots: Superfun and classic U2

2. My favorite track: Unknown Caller (track 4). Great group vocals

3. White as Snow: U2 arranges a traditional advent hymn. It sounds mysteriously like the soundtrack from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly: Ennio Morricone's timeless western sound.

4. Bono's best vocals ever: Moment of Surrender, "I tie myself wire!!"

5. Freddie Mercury has reincarnated! Throughout the album are fantastic, elaborate harmonies both vocally and with Edge's E-bow.

6. Their relaxed and patient approach throughout. Most of the songs have an extended intro and thoughtful interludes that give you time to think and take in their art. Selah. Cedars of Lebanon closes the album and gives you a snapshot of their maturity and growth as musicians and artists.

It seems like U2 is purposefully enjoying their place in rock 'n roll. Never once have they come across as trying too hard or being over the hill. They have relevance and cool firmly in their grasp. They know they're still making great music and also seem to recognize how fortunate they are. Their team of producers (Eno and Lanois) has done what George Martin did for the Beatles: helped create timeless music that still will have cultural traction fifty years from now. Have fun listening to it. It will grow on you more and more.

More later. . .

The Miracle of Scrubs

I love Scrubs.

The last three TV shows my wife and I began to follow and like were cancelled within two years. The West Wing, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip and Boston Legal. Scrubs was actually taken off the air for about a year while it transitioned to ABC from NBC. So it's like it's back from the dead.

A Miracle!

More later . . .

Sledding Vol. 2

We visited my parent house recently

All Good Things Must Come To An End . . .

This weekend we took our Christmas tree down. In our house, the Christmas tree goes up the weekend after Thanksgiving, and comes down New Year's Day. I can say with confidence that this is officially and predictably one of my least favorite days of the year. There are many reasons for this:

1 - The tree itself. For about 4 weeks the tree, once decorated, brings light and joy into our house and is a reminder of very good things. It's pungent fragrance bombards your senses. The tree is the centerpiece of our Christmas celebration. Each year we go through the same revered family ritual of bringing out old, cherished ornaments while carefully choosing new ornaments that will join the pantheon. Each ornament has a story and a specific meaning to us, and we're very stingy about new ornaments going up. If they lack the beauty and character of what we already have they don't stand a chance. The tree is the focal point of tremendous sentiment and nostalgia.

By the time the tree comes down on New Year's Day it's deadness hangs off the boughs like Marley's chains. The needles explode off the branches as you remove the strings of lights, which come off with far less care than they went up. Then you're faced with the important task of deciding if the current light strands will make it for another Christmas. If you choose to keep a strand that is unknowingly close to death, it might burn out on next year's tree after it's already been decorated. This presents a frustrating and time-consuming situation, so it's best to just pitch any strands older than one Christmas. After the lights come off, the tree will end up being thrown out the front door into the yard, with a grunt and perhaps a curse. Merry Christmas!! I'm sure it's amusing for my neighbors to see me burst out of my front door wielding a dead Douglas fir over my head. The needles and sap eventually get cleaned up, but it seems like every year I'm vacuuming at midnight.

2 - The music is over. Growing up my parents didn't play music much. My mom was a Kenny Rogers fan, but the Gambler came out rarely. But on Thanksgiving Day an unending flow of Christmas music poured out from the Realistic phonograph my parents owned. It was an autofeed record player, and it would stack 10-12 records on the post. Whenever the records finished rotating through, someone would flip the stack over and start it again. Among many of our favorites there was Jackie Gleason, Robert Shaw Chorale, Perry Como, Nat King Cole, Vince Guiraldi, Brenda Lee, Glen Campbell, Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby and of course Christmas Magic by Frad Waring and his Pennsylvanians. I've collected almost all that old music on CD or iTunes and it now resides my iPod. In our house now, the Christmas music starts when we hop into the van to make the 7 hr. trip to Grandma's in Jamestown, NY. From that moment Christmas music is played non-stop until the day the Tree comes down when it will go dormant once again until next Thanksgiving.

3 - The movies and decorations go back in the box. Each year we buy one Christmas movie to add to our collection. So far we have It's a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street (the original), A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Story, Polar Express, Christmas Vacation, Charlie Brown Christmas, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, & Veggie Tales Christmas. This year we added The Preacher's Wife and The Bishop's Wife. Of course the more we add the more difficult it becomes to watch all of them, so we have to choose a select few. I still want to add The Santa Claus, Scrooged, Muppet Christmas Carol, Holiday Inn, White Christmas, Home Alone and Grumpy Old Men. Being committed to only buying one Christmas movie per year means it will be several years before our desired collection is complete.

4 - Goodbye to the lovely traditions. Let me list some of them, a lot of which have to do with food: making peanut brittle, sour cream twist cookies, chocolate buckeyes, egg nog w/brandy, Kara's decorated cutout cookies, nuts in the shell, mushroom sandwhiches, cheese and sweet dry sausage. Not to mention all the seasonal Christmas and Winter beer that abounds during that time. No wonder my digestion gets disrupted and my clothes don't fit anymore.

5 - Back to school. I've lived my entire life within the bounds of the academic calender. I currently work with college students and my daughter is in the first grade. So New Year's Day still means that school is right around the corner. It also means the end of college football until the fall, and that's a real bummer. So we go to bed New Year's night & every trace of our month-long Christmas celebration is gone. Within a day or two we're back at school and our minds are filled with the things of the New Year. It's still that way now.

So we look forward to another wonderful Christmas in 10 1/2 months time. I wonder what new ornaments we'll find for next year's tree, or what new beer I'll discover when the new winter seasonals are released in the fall. Who knows? Maybe none of us will be around for another Christmas.

Maybe Jesus' second advent will take place before then.

More later . . .