So far so good with this rotating-day-but-still-weekly schedule for writing. Until now…when I see its one big logic flaw, that the Friday and Monday posts are decidedly not spaced weekly at all and instead are going to be pretty much on top of each other in your Inbox…because Monday (today) actually was “next week” when I last published three days ago (Friday). But that’s ok, I think. I can live with two pieces coming virtually back to back every five (I think?) weeks if you can. One alternative is to publish on Saturdays and Sundays and rotate through them too, but I have no idea what the theme of those extra days would be. Another is to reverse back through the days, but that has its own downside so for now I’ll stick with the rotating-weekdays-weekly situation and play it by ear going forward.
If you’re reading and for some strange reason are wondering why I am thinking out loud and what the actual schedule is, you can find out more here if you’re so inclined. Also I continue to be interested in your thoughts on schedule/approach/content. So please comment or hit me directly if you have feedback on that. Or anything else.
This past Saturday was the kind of lazy (not slothful) day we didn’t realize we needed. Mother Nature was on such a tear there really was no other reasonable choice than to stay in pajamas all day, shower, put on clean pajamas, and then have a drink by the fire. You might argue that everyday COVID cloistering gives us seven days a week to make it a pajama day, but I’ve been really good about showering and dressing and exercising on the regular, and trying hard not to be (too much of) a bum. Given the wind and the storms and the threat of snow (none of note), we spent the day decorating and the evening watching Christmas movies (The Happiest Season on Hulu and The Family Stone on HBO). And it was awesome.
The big question (and some related smaller ones) came up as it always does: how many nativities (I like to pronounce it NAY-tivities) are too many? Do I have a nativity thing? Is having a nativity thing even a thing?
Regardless…I have (I think) six (?) scenes, not including the two that hang on the tree. Oh and the silver bell set which is neither scene nor an ornament, but either way that makes seven…I’m pretty sure. Nine if you count the ornaments?
Anyway, it’s Monday morning and time for my haiku that is Monday Maiku.
Christmas pageant time;
Peppermint Patty, typecast.
Baby Js galore.
Seriously, how do you say no to The Peanuts? Especially when this adorable nativity is on sale at BJs? It’s a few years old but on Saturday when I was putting it out I was stopped in my tracks. Only one wise man, not three, and the wise man is…Peppermint Patty?
Wait, what? How did that not register before?
Ahhh…Pep Patty…from the good old days of Marcy insisting on calling her “Sir” (or did Pep insist that Marcy do that?) to a grand appearance in a plastic nativity as the sole representative of three wise men, it made me realize that while she very well may have been typecast, Peppermint Patty is a cartoon character ahead of their time. She’s the living embodiment of “you do you,” and she has been since long before “you do you” was an everyday expression. (Quick aside, I know the “you do you” expression can be controversial (can’t everything be at this point?) and you can read all about it here, but I see the expression as one of individualism, not narcissism).
So while I’m not going to re-watch and re-read old Peanuts cartoons and comics and attempt to do any type of pseudo-academic character analysis, I will say this: setting out one of my many nativity sets this year (re-)opened my eyes to the glorious fact that we are living in a whole new world where typecasting and stereotyping and pigeonholing and conforming are becoming tricks and trappings of a bygone era, and we now live in a world where minds are opening and times are changing and Elliot not Ellen Page played Juno and, well, “you do you.” I found myself surprisingly moved and gratified by the previously mundane-ish ritual of deciding where to put a collection of figurines, as I realized that this set changes the construct of the Christmas story on some level and in many ways is applicable well outside of the confines of the stable walls, and far beyond the borders of Bethlehem. That ragtag gang bringing us the annual Christmas pageant represents all of the good that is our collective individuality and a strong message about how being our authentic selves—day in and day out—is what the true spirit of Christmas is all about.
Before I sign off for today, I need to take an important detour. While what I’m about to talk about isn’t part of the same holiday decorating story, it is part of the same overriding theme, the beauty of individuality and authenticity. A friend of mine from junior high (she’s still a friend to this day) experienced the sudden death of her sweet and kind and gentle soul of an older brother last week, so yesterday I took a break from drafting this to watch a live-streamed service and to pay in-person respects at a “walk through” at a local funeral home. When we were in the awkward early- to mid-teenage years and Jackie was a student at Northeastern University (he was eight years older than us), he’d willingly take us into the city time and again—to a Concert on the Common (can you say “Olivia Newton-John”?) or to have lunch at someplace teenage trendy or to do whatever it was that teenagers did in the early 1980s when they were let loose in the city. He would graciously disappear into the background, never lost us, and was always able to find us a nice clean restroom. A long time went by without me seeing Sandy or Jackie, for no reason other than life and the inevitable distance and complication it introduces, until about maybe 9 or 10 years ago when Sandy was home from CA for Thanksgiving and we decided to grab a drink at a local bar. Jackie joined us for the night, and we had such a fun time rehashing the old days and connecting on the years in between. A few years later, when Sandy couldn’t make it to my Dad’s wake (because…California), Jackie showed up. And that’s the kind of guy Jackie was. He showed up. So anyway, yesterday morning it was important for me to watch the virtual event, my first of the kind, and it was such a strange feeling…feeling like a voyeur despite being invited, sitting in my “office” actively dabbing at my running eyes and nose with a tissue, watching the family both grieve and celebrate on the other side of town. In these times of distance and separation and pain, I was reminded of two things during the service, as Sandy spoke the words that her heart was holding: 1) how important it is to be there for each other and 2) with light comes hope. Later in the day, I went to the “walk through,” again without knowing what to expect. It too was a strange experience, me alone in a room at a funeral home with not a live person in sight…never in my life have I ever knelt by a casket and prayed while Dolly Parton was singing “Two Doors Down” over the loudspeaker, but in this case I did and she did. I couldn’t help but interrupt my own Hail Mary with a smile when I heard it, and was so glad that the COVID-constrained sendoff defied conventionality and honored Jackie for the unique individual that he was. The circle of life is the most beautiful and painful shape there is, alternately taking us for fun rides and other times grinding us down…always gunning for us. While we all know that eventually it will catch us, until it does there is one thing we can do. We can show up. As our authentic selves—for ourselves, for others, and for the people who no longer can.
RIP, Jackie.
Have a great week being you, and being there.