The Babies Are Growing Up – Christmas Nostalgia

The Christmas tree and boxes of ornaments and decorations came out of the garage today, and into the house.  The Carter family (at least, my small branch of it) spent the afternoon putting up the tree, stringing the lights, and putting up all the various ornaments while Christmas music by Sufjan Stevens played in the background.

But this was something of a bittersweet nostalgia holiday afternoon.  Up went the tree, along with many of those ornaments made by the children when they were younger.  But gone are those darling little ones, easily amused by the colored lights and glittery balls and bells hung on the branches of the indoor tree.  Gone is the “big-bird” ornament – an improvised ornament hung by our daughter when she was very young – it was one of her toys, not really an ornament, but she carried it from her room and hung it on the lowest branch of the tree.  Gone is the sweet little boy who clung to his mother and sucked his thumb as she removed each ornament from the storage boxes. 

Now we have teenagers who endure the “forced family fun” and roll their eyes, who disappear to their rooms as soon as the tree can be satisfactorily described as decorated.  "My babies are growing up,” says my wife and she’s closer to tears than she wants the kids to see.

And though I am reluctant to admit it, the sparkling of the lights that I see is caused by the welling up of tears in my own eyes.

Selling Stories with Don Draper (A Strange Dream)

It is not an uncommon thing that I should have strange and vivid dreams, but last night’s dream was among the stranger ones I’ve had:

Don Draper (of AMC’s show Mad Men) and I were in southern California as a small and ill-fated invasion of the United States began.  A couple of hundred poorly equipped soldiers crossed the Mexican border with WWII vintage carbine rifles.  The response from the American military was swift, and soon there was an ugly battle.  Draper and I found shelter in a hidden attic apartment.

But the ground forces were really a diversion.  The real attack came when several thousand rockets were launched at the International Space Station.  Their pink and orange smoke trails lingered long in the pale blue skies.

After the battle was over, Draper and I turned that hidden attic apartment into an office where we began to sell an elaborately exaggerated account of the brief war.  “Facts don’t matter.  Only the story,” Draper told me.

“The sales, you mean,” I replied to him.

“Same difference.”

Call Me a Fugitive

Call me a fugitive wanderer
and fraudulent beggar, if you will;
I don’t mind.

I have slept beneath the stars
with my head upon a stone.
And sleeping, perchance, did I dream?

Aye, a dream I had
and what a dream it was.

I dreamt I saw John Ball
alive and living well, preaching
despite the axes and knives
stabbed into his back by
agents of the John Birch Society.

I saw four horses eating noxious weeds.
I saw the peasant revolt successful.
I saw General Francisco Franco washing cars
in south Detroit.

In my dream I heard muttering mumblers
and murmuring mummers
chanting the socialist manifesto.

I saw a human skull
(it was my own)
in a field of blood.

I saw Red Rock Dam
and I was not afraid.

Powerpoint Slides for Everyone - 2014 - Advent Weeks

I usually post these free background images on Sunday afternoons.  But because this week has been more than regular busy, I wasn't able to do it then.  I was going to do it on Monday, but then I was swamped with other things... Tuesday, Wednesday... bah!  Finally, on this Thanksgiving Thursday, I can finally get them posted for you.

And to make up for the fact that I was somewhat delayed (and to ensure that I won't have to worry about it for a few weeks) I am going to share all four weeks of the Advent themed backgrounds here in a single post.  Feel free to use one, or all, or none, or any that you like.

It's Not My Intent To Make People Cry, But Sometimes it Happens

It's never my intent to make people cry while I'm playing my guitar and singing at the red kettle for The Salvation Army.  It wasn't my intent, but it happened.

I was playing through some of the songs in my Bob Dylan songbook when she came out of the store pushing a cartload of groceries.  I saw her start to exit the foyer area and then hesitate, then she pulled her cart off to the side and waited.  My attention wasn't really on her, so I didn't see what she was doing until I finished the song.

When I finished the song, I rolled my shoulders and stretched for a bit (it gets to be a long afternoon) and I saw that she was still there, standing next to her cartload of groceries, crying.

I asked if she needed anything.

She said "no," and thanked me for playing.  She said that her husband (now dead) used to play that song for her.

It's not my intent to make people cry with my singing, but sometimes it happens.