My husband cannot understand what the deal is with Christmas cards.  Every year he sees me hunched over grumbling and asks why I bother.  I bother because ours is a “busy” world where handwritten cards of any sort are a rarity, and even birthday cards can barely be purchased and signed.  But at Christmas cards fly through the post harkening back to another era.  There are the braggy ones, the store-bought ones, the “look at my 10,000 family members” ones, or (like me for years) the “look at my animals” ones, but they are paper tokens that signify someone remembered you nonetheless.  My mother was big on cards.  Even in her last years I took her to the Hallmark store to buy her Christmas cards.  She always bought cardinal ones; they were her favorite bird and I can never see them without thinking of her and her beautiful red hair.  We would pass her cards around Autumn Leaves and she gave them to everyone — from the nurses to the grouch.  What a joy it was to watch.  It was humbling, as it was the only card many ever received.  It showed they were thought of and not just old and forgotten.  Today I came across her last card simply signed, “Love Mama” and it was painfully bittersweet.  To see something she wrote is so precious to me, particularly as she got very self-conscious about her handwriting.  And now when I can no longer see her tiny, freckled hands and I am struggling to get through the second Christmas without her, miraculously she went and did what she always did … she sent me a card.

“Somehow not only for Christmas but all the long year through, the joy that you give to others is the joy that comes back to you.  And the more you spend in blessing the poor and lonely and sad, the more of your heart’s possessing returns to make you glad.” ~ American Fireside Poet John Greenleaf Whittier

Other than animals, I’d say growing up my best friends were books.  Both of my parents loved to read.  Daddy read Dale Carnegie and Mama read murder mysteries.  My guilty pleasure has always been historical romance.  Burk prefers biographies.  Maris loves all her books, especially Anatole the mouse and Madeline.  Our family is not satisfied with merely browsing in a bookstore.  We all get drawn into its literary delights; the dichotomy of time standing still and yet time being transported.

“Oh, I just want what we all want:  a comfortable couch, a nice beverage, a weekend of no distractions and a book that will stop time, lift me out of my quotidian existence and alter my thinking forever.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert, “Eat, Pray, Love”

Reluctantly the time had come to leave but we each walked away clutching our newest finds.  For Burk it was “Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates”, for me it was “Mary, The Most Powerful Woman in the World”, and Maris got the most darling book called “In the Forest”.  My parents taught me books were to be cherished and that is what we are instilling in our daughter.  Books are treasure troves in and of themselves; they are knowledge, they are escape, they are recollections, they are adventure, they are history and so much more.  As much as I adore my iPhone and have great concern over the conservation of trees, I hope there will always be books to hold and to smell.  There is a comfort in the rustle of a turning page, the soft “whump” when a book closes, and its reassuring weight as it slips out of sleepy hands and onto a chest.  Even the cats love scratching a cheek or two on its edges.  Each of our bookshelves will now have a new gem to house.  And with that I shall close this chapter in my blog and crack open my book.

There is a certain store my entire family has never been able to resist.  In the past four years I cannot recall a time we have ever come out having spent less than $200.  They always have something practical, seasonal, or just plain fun.  We have bought just about everything in there at some point — small appliances, diapers, books, electronics, luggage, toys, cards, decorations; you name it.  Today I went in for a Christmas CD to play during my daughter’s class party.  That’s it.  I put my blinders on and moved with determined purpose.  Peeking out from an aisle as I made my way to the back were two pretty little tops that beckoned.  Then I saw they had new pajamas and mine are shot.  Deciding I was starting to get caught as if it were the La Brea Tar Pits, I got myself out of there.  I found the CD and began striding toward the front like an arrow determined not to veer in either direction.  On the way back to the front a great looking bookshelf broke my focus.  My husband has needed a bigger, more sturdy one for ages.  American essayist Charles Dudley Warner said the excellence of a gift lies in its appropriateness rather than its value.  I really hope Burk will like it.  And so I rolled out with one small bag and one big box totaling $220.21.  Right on Target.  😉

Photographs:  some people pose for them and some duck shyly away.  Another passion my mother instilled in me was a great import upon taking pictures.  When I was little she’d dress me up every year and we would go down to Sears to have my portrait made.  She hung them all in our living room and through the years they made a giant, conglomerative square.  We could not start riding rides at Six Flags until my mother had gotten our pictures taken first.  Oh the interminable wait!  My uncle loved cameras and gave me my very own when I was seven.  I was so proud of it.  It had a carrying case and even a space to store flip flashes.  Of course, as the current keeper of memories, I now make our little girl wait while I get a picture of us.  I hope she will appreciate it one day, too.  I remember Uncle Johnny saying to me to take pictures of things that are important.  I suppose that definition lies within the eye of the beholder.  Renowned photographer Ansel Adams said you don’t take a photograph, you make it.  The most gratifying for me has been being in other countries watching family members switch places to try to have at least one picture of themselves taken by an iconic monument.  I always like to walk up with a respectful smile and hold my hand out for the camera, indicating they should all get in the picture.  The surprise and sheer delight on their faces never fails to make my heart soar.  It transcends barriers of race, religion and culture and it is indescribable to watch as they all light up and nod their thanks afterward.  It is also lovely and much appreciated when they reciprocate!  The commonality of our collective desire unites us.  And so we spend a brief blink of time with each other; a convergence of two worlds sharing the same moment.  It has been my experience both sides leave the better for it.  I have always wanted a family of my own to take barefoot pictures with in the grass.  I have only a few family portraits with my parents and that was thanks to church directories.  I guess that’s why I chose to put our annual family pictures at the top of my site.  They say good things come to those who wait.  They certainly do.