A lump of coal…and a warm hearth

Ever had someone threaten to give you that in your stocking? Or perhaps you’ve threatened to give it instead. That’s what my grandparents used to tell us Santa would bring for naughty little boys and girls – nothing but a great, ugly lump of coal.

It had special meaning to us. To most kids, the image of a lump of coal might bring vague pictures of coalmines, maybe the cinders of a train yard (depending upon what part of the country they’re from) and the most readily available image is a charcoal briquette. But we knew differently.

You see, sitting on the hearth, year in and year out, was a large chunk of anthracite coal. I don’t mean a kernel, or even a pebble. I mean a chunk about the size of your head – sitting there with sharp tool marks still evident.

Why my grandmother kept it, I have no idea. Certainly, she had no soft spot for the West Virginian coalmining towns of her youth. Or maybe she did. Maybe it was a reminder of how far she’d come, or from what humble beginnings. Or maybe there was a shred of nostalgia for simpler, more innocent times. I’ll never know, and I don’t suspect she ever really told anyone why that chunk sat on the hearth, year in and year out.

That very same chunk of coal now sits on my hearth, and there it shall stay.

Why do I keep it? I don’t really know.

Perhaps it’s a reminder of childhood pleasures – propping my feet on the hearth. Maybe it’s a link to a family I know very little about beyond the last few generations, though I know it includes those who genuinely define the term “hillbillies.”

That chunk of coal sits on my hearth, just as it sat on my grandparent’s. But there is something different. These days, that chunk has a couple of companions. Sitting on top of it are two brass crickets, they were my mother’s. And if you look closely, you can just see those crickets behind The Boy’s head.

Mom had them for years, they usually sat on our hearth, and when we didn’t have a fireplace, they sat in amongst some of her plants.

For her, crickets in the home were symbols of good luck. I often wondered if she had ever read Dickens’ “The Cricket On The Hearth”, but figured she probably hadn’t. No, they were just one of those things Mom liked, and in her quirky way, they were part of her.

Sometimes, the crickets sat by themselves. Other times, they were hovered over by a pair of brass cranes looking for all the world as if they were about to swoop down and gobble up the crickets. Another example of Mom’s rather odd sense of humor. I arranged them that way at first, only to discover that arrangement somewhat disturbed my kids – I guess they aren’t quite as twisted as their grandma was. So, in our home, the crickets found a new resting place – atop the chunk of coal.

Count Your Blessings & De-stress!

Prompted by the constant onslaught of “how do you keep so calm with all the holiday stress?” stuff, and updated for 2007. If anything, I’m more relaxed this year, less stressed, enjoying what I have and not worrying about what I don’t.

This year, we’ll be doing a lot of driving at Christmas. The kids are with their dad, and we’re going to visit my sister, and then the BF’s parents - driving over the holiday weekend does not thrill me, but family does!

Is it crazy? Sure. Whose holiday isn’t? But that’s OK. It really is!

~~~

R.

Along with the holidays comes the immeasurable stress. The hassles of shopping, cooking, traveling, etc. All the extra people in our homes. Or the crowded homes of relatives. And like many women, I often feel overwhelmed by it all. On a message board I like to frequent, another Mom asked the question, “How do you deal with all the holiday stress?” As I sat back and thought about it for a moment, it occurred to me that I really didn’t feel stressed. On the contrary, I feel rather relaxed this season.

Do I have less to do than usual? No. More, in fact. Is there less stress, less hassle, less anything this year? Again, no. This year is much crazier, much more stressful than years past. So, what is the reason for my calm state? And then it hit me. Here is what I said:

I take a deep breath and remind myself what all the fuss is about! Seriously - I look at the bright side of things, and try to focus on the good stuff.

When family gets overwhelming — I think how much I miss my Grandfather, and how I wish he was still around to see my kids growing up. This year, 2007, I also think about Mom - this is our first Christmas without her. Suddenly, that family that IS around seems all the more precious.

House too full? I remind myself of all the people spending the holidays alone. I visit a nursing home, and see the lonely faces that brighten up at the sight of a stranger. My full house doesn’t seem so cramped anymore.

Stress over whose house to visit? At least there is a choice. Sit back, smile, make a “take turns” schedule and rejoice that you have so much family to choose from. Think of the soldiers, or others, away from home — who don’t HAVE that choice to make, I’m sure they’d be glad to have several places to visit.

All of the other hectic, crazy, holiday insanity? For every piece of negative — I can think of some positive. I can think of some reason to appreciate what I have.

I have a beautiful home (yes, it means decorating.) I have lots of family (a crowded house, lots to buy, cook, etc.) And for all of the hassle — I am thankful.

I miss the loved ones who are no longer here, and I would gladly put yet another plate on my table, another gift under the tree for them.

I don’t love holiday travel — but last year, I would have happily driven all over the country and back to have Mom with us at Christmas. Last year, she was ill and couldn’t travel — and life being what it was I couldn’t take the kids to her. This year, it’s not even an option and guess what? I’d cram my kids, all the food, all the packages and everything into a Mini Cooper with the tree tied on top, then drive across country and back if I could have one more Christmas with Mom.

So — how do I handle the stress? I count the blessings I have! Yes, those blessings mean more stress. But there are so many others who have far less than I.

It’s a wonderful time…

…it’s the greatest time of the year! Time for singing and dancing and time for joy and good cheer! Look at all of those presents just waiting there by the tree…

OK, so I grew up with the Chipmunks, what can I say?

It is, however, nearly “officially” Christmas time - for my family, the “season” always started the weekend after Thanksgiving. That’s when the songs started, the decorations started going up and it started to feel a lot like Christmas.

This will be a Christmas filled with firsts for me - last year was my “first” after leaving my marriage. This year will be the first (since becoming a parent) without the kids (they’re spending Christmas with their Dad). It will also be the first without Mom.

I have already taken down the Halloween decorations and the boxes of Christmas goodies have been hauled out.

I love the trappings of Christmas - I love the ribbons, the garland, the lights and the tree! It has to be a REAL tree too, one that smells beautiful and drops pine needles on the floor.

I even love dealing with Daisy, the Christmas Tree Ball Munching Boxer From Hell (I need to dig that post up and put it here sometime…) whose presence mandates that I refrain from decorating the lower three feet of tree with anything I value.

Though many may mourn the passing of the “true” meaning of Christmas, lamenting the lack of nativity scenes and being curmudgeonly about the commercialism - those are things I can happily block out. I may despise the marketing minions who, in their quest for the almighty buck, decided to put Santa up next to the Mummy way back during the Back-To-School sales, and I may miss the beauty of the public nativity (we still have one around here, thank you!) I’m simply enamored with the whole season.

It just seems that people are nicer. There are more opportunities to reach out beyond yourself, and more people do it with joy.

And there’s more than Christmas. That very same commercialism took a minor Jewish holiday like Chanukah and brought it to the eyes of many. Sure, there is a down side, but I challenge anyone to not find peace and beauty in the Festival of Lights! Skeptics may accuse Kwanzaa of being a “made up” holiday, but how can anyone be a Grinch about celebrating family?

So this coming weekend, despite the fact that I have so much else that needs doing, the decorations are starting! The laundry can wait while I hang the stockings and the vacuuming will simply be done after all the garland is draped and the lights are lit.

I even get to add to my decorations this year. Last year it was pretty basic - tree, garland, stockings, ornaments and lights. What shall I add this year? More garland? More lights? Lots of candles?

And with that, some thoughts on Christmas, not from me, but from others who have put it so well that I simply could never hope to do better:

Mary Ellen Chase
Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind.

Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.

Robert Lynd
Were I a philosopher, I should write a philosophy of toys, showing that nothing else in life need to be taken seriously, and that Christmas Day in the company of children is one of the few occasions on which men become entirely alive.

Joan Winmill Brown
Christmas! The very word brings joy to our hearts. No matter how we may dread the rush, the long Christmas lists for gifts and cards to be bought and given, when Christmas Day comes there is still the same warm feeling we had as children, the same warmth that enfolds our hearts and our homes.

Augusta E. Rundel
Christmas… that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance — a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.

And saving my two favorites for last:

Dale Evans Rogers
Christmas, my child, is love in action. Every time we love, every time we give, it’s Christmas.

Dr. Seuss
And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store? What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?

Duluth will never be the same….

Anyone who knows, and I mean really knows, any of my immediate family (including Yours Truly here) and especially anyone who has ever seen us all together, knows that we’re a rather, ah… interesting group of people. Add to that equation a bit of alcohol and you might be in for a rollicking good time, or the most frightening time of your life, all depending upon your outlook.

As all of us gathered in the relatively quiet city of Duluth for Mom’s services, it occurred to me - that town will never be the same!

Funeral directors didn’t quite know how to handle a small and not so quiet bunch who, eyes red-rimmed from crying, spoke of a life of laughter and love - and they laughed together, celebrating a much as mourning. Nor did they know what to do about that same small bunch who, after all the others had left, started making funeral jokes. It’s just the way we deal with things. Hey, Mom taught us that laughter is as necessary as air!

The weather was wonderful - cold to us native Southern Californians, but still nice. The days were more clear than cloudy and there was no rain or snow. The people were nice - unerringly polite. But once again, within 24 hours, I had enough of that Northern accent to last me a lifetime. Ohhh, okay. Ya, sure, you betcha.

And so with that, a small collection of photos - our little family’s farewell to Mom!

That would be her… in that pic she’s still a teenager… And the roses? When she and Tom married, she had peach roses in her bouquet.

Yeah, those are my sisters… And if you really must know about the loverly shot on the anchor - ask, but I warn you, it’s a long story.

Mom’s hubby and my brother (yes, that young thing on the left is Mom’s hubby - yes, she “robbed the cradle.”)

We gave Mom a proper send off - getting not-so-quietly toasted after the services, and traipsing out into the Minnesota night to wave some sparklers around (she liked the silly things, OK?)

A little sight seeing in Two Harbors…

A great view of the St Louis River - from some rest area off the 35 (and ask me if I can recall the name of the darn rest area?)

Close to sunset - looking back from the lighthouse in Duluth. That’s the lift bridge. The terrific color comes not from PhotoShop, but from taking the picture through my sunglass lenses.