You better be good...

To me, the main focus of Christmas is the spiritual one - celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. We need to be reminded - forcefully - despite the efforts of unbelievers - that Christmas is not just a holiday but a holy day. In this day and age that holy day has become more a secular day off and less focused on a relationship with God. I am too much a traditionalist to see things that way and so I recognize Christmas as a most gift of God - a day all too easy to relegate to just another day off - and by the way, a day to spend money on gifts. Money we sometimes can't really afford. But I treasure Jesus as the amazing gift of God.


Not to say I haven't appreciated other gifts I've gotten in the past. From the third grade I remember a model airplane kit at a church Christmas party - a model too complex for a third grader. I remember a small printing press a few years later that opened the door to my love of publications and printing. Once there was a gift from FAO Schwartz (the fantastic toy store in mid-town New York City) of a kit to build a brick structure using tiny clay bricks glued together with strips of cardboard simulating mortar. There was a Christmas in the Depression years in which my father made a flock of buildings and bridges to go with a second-hand electric train set. There was the time I got a Meccano kit to build machines (we couldn't afford the Erector sets). There was a time when I got a chemistry set - a forerunner of my unappreciated experiments in the high school chemistry lab. Following almost a year of cruising on the USS Enterprise, I received another model -a very large kit to make a scale replica of the ship I had worked on as a technical advisor.


But the most wonderful gift I ever received was a small golden band - a wedding ring - since we had not had money enough to buy one for our wedding ceremony a few days earlier (it was 57 years ago on December 19th). Maybe I should correct myself -the greatest gift was the one who gave me the ring. I have always said that the Air Force was very important in helping me to set good priorities in life, but Joyce was a wonderful gift of God who has celebrated and struggled with life at my side for all these years.


So, I say, 'Thank you, Lord, for Jesus and all He represents within our lives'.
And 'Thank you, Lord for Joyce and the children'. Thank you more than any Nieman Marcus or Nordstrom or Macy's gift, of any amount, could equal.


Have a wonderful, blessed Christmas and treasure God's gifts this season.

Let Your Light So Shine....

When I was little I would count the number of houses that had outside Christmas lighting in December. We, at one point, lived about 30 miles away from my maternal grandparent's house and it became a ritual to check out Christmas lights on the way.In the 1930's outside Christmas lighting was just simple strings of colored lights but they were pretty just then same, and there were lots of homes decorated that way.


It seems different nowadays. It doesn't seem as though there are that many homes with outside lighting. Maybe it's just me, but somehow a little of the spirit of Christmas has faded away. Maybe it's the economy. Maybe it's because I'm old and am tradition bound but in some ways it doesn't seem quite the same.


Then there are those "small cells" in places like Winter Park and Port Orange Florida that are masterpieces of creative lighting art. Whole neighborhoods lit
up by animated lighting systems complete with computer generated music. It's amazing where technology has taken us.


But still the focus remains in many homes and hearts of scenes of stables with a family with a newborn baby and shepherds in a stable. Even wise men - some of the wisest of the time - making a long trip to worship a newborn child, the Son of God. So the light continues to shine forth at Christmas - the light of God's love and hope for humanity.


When you live in an apartment there isn't a lot one can do in a reflection of God's love. We try a little with lights in our apartment window. Hopefully, and more importantly, we hope our lives reflect some of God's love. We try, the best we can to share care and concern for our neighbors upstairs, downstairs, and down the hall. And we hope the lights of our apartment window reflect a bit of the goodness of the season - not simply of decorations and secular gifts, but of the love God has shared with us in Christ.

Clear the Way!

Winter is not what it used to be. Especially winter life in the city.


I think back to days in my life like the picture above. I'm reminded of the small 300 population village I lived in for years. As I wrote a year ago, we would go out in the woods - not a tree farm - to find our tree. We'd haul it back to the car on a hand-pulled sled and once in the house we would trim it with hand-me-down old ornaments or ornaments we made ourselves. Some were made out of colored paper; others were strings of popcorn and cranberries. No lights - after all, the wonderful world of REA electricity had not reached our house. We had pot-belly stoves and a wood-burning cooking range and it was still cold. We had lots of snow and we would use snowshoes to get to town at times.


I had a pair of skis with primitive bindings. I could ski on a hill across the creek from the house (it was before I planted hundreds of evergreen trees) (Norway Spruce and Scotch Pine)on that same slope. Or I would go behind a neighbor's house. It was always easier to go down than ski herringbone style back up the hill to home. Even more fun was using a home-made six-person bobsled that we steered with ropes. No steering wheel - no brakes - we just hoped that the clothesline ropes would not break before we got to the bottom of the hill. It was a winding road that almost never got cleared before spring and we frequently ended up going off the road into the snow-filled ditch. It was miraculous that no one ever got really hurt because that primitive bobsled sure did move down the hill.


I remember Christmas eve in that village. The Presbyterian church was like the ones you see in Vermont calendars. We'd make it to town and the stars were beautifully bright. Then we'd approach the church which was lit with candles. I marvel at times that it did not burn down from all the candles but it still exists to this day. I like to think of that church and houses as the perfect Christmas village and I miss that scene every Christmas. Sparkling snow on the ground - the sound of Christmas carols filtering through the darkness of night - and candles in the windows of the church.


Like many others, I am sad at Christmas in some ways. I resent the efforts of the entertainment world and media as they try to downplay the word "Christmas" and simply relate a holy time to a mere holiday. I'm getting along in years and I miss some of the old days. To be sure, there were a lot of hard times in the decades of yesteryear - but times were simpler, less strident, and faith was strong. Miracles still undergirded Christmas and the love of God was central to every-day life.


John Denver once sang...."Take me home, country roads..." and I wish I could. But like our eldest son has said to me, "Dad, you're old fashioned - times have changed - you don't understand.." But I do - and still I cling to memories that centered on faith and simplicity. I'm not ready to send the Spirit of Christmas to the landfill.
MERRY CHRISTMAS - and a very happy new year!

Thanksgiving? Not quite!

Yes, it is a seafood dinner. But the picture was taken in Florida in January. Or was it February? It is a perfect example of gluttony - and I'm the guilty one. But how I love seafood - and yes, I ate the whole assortment of crab, and oysters, and clams, and who knows what else.


But I think back to some thanksgivings as well. Like the time we were stationed briefly at Niagara Falls AFB. We lived in a motel - one room with a kitchenette.
No oven - just a cooktop. So what do you do when a friend brings you a pheasant for Thanksgiving? You pluck it and clean it - and then fry the pheasant. Sacrilege, you say? I can think of people who didn't even have that kind of opportunity.


Like us a couple or three years later. We were at a base in Illinois and it was the end of the month. We'd run out of money and I took my precious bowling ball to the local pawn shop. If memory serves correctly, I got five dollars, enough for franks and beans --- our thanksgiving feast for the year.


Then there was the time I drove to Detroit Thanksgiving weekend not long before we were married. I knew that Joyce's fmily was large but I never thought they would have to eat in shifts. First shift was the younger children (and me); second shift was mainly for people when they got home from work. It was wonderful and even more amazing that a family that large could truly celebrate Thanksgiving - so many people then could not - and do not even today.


Another thanksgiving was when I was overseas in Italy. The food in Italy was truly wonderful but we had to teach the cooks in our hotel how to cook American style. What a wonderful sharing experience we had with laughter, and fellowship, and joy
together, even with our differences in language and customs.


There was another time of separation - a time of great tension - over Thanksgiving.
Joyce and the children were at home feeling a sense of fear and I was on an aircraft carrier patrolling the seas south of Cuba during the Cuban Blockade. We are well fed aboard ship - Navy food is good, especially at Thanksgiving. But it was also a time when our hearts turned homeward, thinking of family, and wondering how they were faring with such separation and concern about the days ahead.


I think of Thanksgiving for our service personnel overseas - so many in harms way.
I think of our Army grandson who is looking toward shipment overseas sometime in the future. A second overseas assignment for him; he spent some time in Iraq and gained a purple heart award in the process. And I think of other families whose sons or daughters serve our country - especially families who have lost loved ones in their service. And I look back at the picture above and think how lucky I am - how thankful I am that we have soldiers, and Marines, and sailors, and airmen who care enough about their country that they give of themselves for you and me.


Let this be not just a time to eat - but a time to reflect on the blessings we have
and to share our wealth and health with others.


Just like the friend who brought a pheasant to our motel room so we would have a Thanksgiving meal - even when it ended up being fried.

Election Daze

It was 1950 and I was working in radio. In fact, I had the hallowed responsibility of News Director - Copy Writer - Disc Jockey -and a few other less significant tasks. But for the moment, let's address the night I was doing a remote election broadcast away from the studios and was based in the newsroom of a major weekly newspaper.


So far so good. No problems. On occasion the folks in the studio would switch from location to location. One moment it would be from the south part of the county. The next it would be from the County Seat. Another time it would be somewhere up north.
And I would get my turn to provide interviews and tabulations from the most important R.........n newspaper in our whole area of the state. (Understand, the newspaper owner and his editor son were leading political figures at the time and thus earned a major media focus.


The polls closed and the round-robin reporting went off without a hitch. From north, south, east and west the numbers came in. The newsroom was filled with smiling faces
and cheers. Obviously the results were good in terms of the folks in the newsroom.


Finally, as the evening broadcast began to wind down, the broadcast was switched to me for the final summary and closing interviews. Interviews completed I began to do a county-wide wrap-up of statistics. I checked my watch for this was to be a ten-minute segment. However, it began to get tiresome but the time on my watch was within limits. I kept on summarizing fearing that I would run out of material. But the time was still within limits.


Then came the phone call from the studio. The transmitter had been closed down half an hour before the call. The station was closing its doors. My segment, supposedly
to have been ten minutes in length had become an over 45 minute marathon.


My watch had stopped.


Now you know why most churches had two clocks running when I did my ministry sermons. Somebody must have been in the newsroom the night I did the longest election summary in the history of that county. By the way, I don't remember ever being asked to do another election program. Oh, well...nobody is perfect!

Frigid Digits

If my youngest daughter can do it, I can do it. Well, maybe.

She's done a fantastic job of blogging for several years and so I'm taking a senior opportunity to give it a try as well. Besides, in the reality of Michigan winter I've got to do something to kill time until spring gets here. All three days of it and our two hours of summer as well.

My brother called from Connecticut last night to find out if we were surviving this winter which has been nominated by some to be the worst in years. We're surviving but the picture at the bottom of the blog will testify to what we are experiencing compared to the picture on the right which is what we wish were happening. My brother and I began to compare this winter with what we had when we were little kids growing up in eastern New York in the late 1930's. We lived a mile out of town up on a hill. We had one storm in February when we couldn't get out for a week without snowshoes. And wouldn't you know, right after I had shoveled out the driveway (by hand) the county plow came by and I had a humongous pile to clear away again. It hasn't been that bad here so far this year - but we haven't gotten to February yet.

Then there was the time - in 1984 or '85 - when we were living in Indiana. It was January and we had just gotten back from a two week vacation in Florida. A storm came in from the north and we were up to a sigificant portion of our anatomy and couldn't get into town for several days and Joyce couldn't get to work twenty or more miles away for a week.

Meanwhile, I'm glad I don't have to drive forty miles each way to work anymore like some of the old days in Missouri. (Hey, listen, I've got a lot of old days behind me!) I'm happy to just look out our second story condo window and think to myself -- at least the snow is not up to our window sill.

Oh, well - so it is in Michigan when the snow flies. But we left 17 years of Florida living to
come back to this? Hmmm.