Santa Claus is Coming

Posted on by kwundrow

Christmas is, in no particular order, a season of lights and decorations, gift giving, charity, Santa and the birth of Christ.  If you are like most people, your Christmas is a combination of all of these.  You likely put up a tree and decorated it.  You might even have had a little family friendly competition for the best, biggest or craziest tree.  You maybe thought about charity a bit more than other times of the year and likely put your change in the “red bucket” as you exited the store.  You have looked for the perfect gift and checked it off your list once you found it.  If you are fortunate to have children or grandchildren who yet believe in Santa, you found them Santa and thrilled at the excitement in their eyes.

I have two grandchildren and we recently did our visit to Santa and yes, the toy aisle in that department store.  In fact, I got to spend the better part of an hour watching my grandson carefully inspect each toy, trying to find the one he would add to his Christmas list.  Of course, now I need to sneak back there and make the purchase, knowing the reward will be his excitement as he opens the gift Christmas morning.  This is a part of what Christmas is and I will not diminish it with a lecture on the evils of commercialism.

Christmas is a season of sharing.  We share traditions.  We share friendship and charitable behavior.  We share the myth of Santa knowing that it is only a brief time in our lives when we choose to believe in him.  My grandson, on his way to being five years old, is already showing signs of questioning the idea.  He is testing.  This Christmas he has established that he knows what he wants from Santa but try as we will, he will not reveal his request to anyone other than Santa.  Oh, we will find out because it is our duty.  The knowledge of the truth is another piece of childhood innocence lost.  And so we will go out of our way to perpetuate the myth as long as possible.

This brings me to the story I need to share.  It is the story of my oldest daughter’s discovery that Santa was a myth.  Bailey had been holding desperately to her belief in Santa.  My wife and I, with Bailey in tow, were out doing some shopping.  My wife had stumbled onto the bargain bin of stocking stuffers and without realizing, picked out a couple of items and commented on how they would make great “Santa Gifts”.  Unfortunately, Bailey was clearly within earshot and her reaction was predictable.  Her tear stained face looked up at me and the question she wanted to ask was obvious.  We took a little walk and eventually she asked the question.  “Does this mean there isn’t really a Santa, that it’s just you and mom pretending?”  I could have tried to cover it up or maybe even lied, but the explanation was in order.  I explained to her that we were in fact Santa but that what was important to understand was that it was an honor and a responsibility to play this role.  I went on to explain that Christmas was about sharing and that Santa and being Santa was a way of showing this.  I told her that now that she knew the true intention of the myth, she had earned the right to become the Santa for the baby sister we were expecting.  She would get to be the Santa for her.  That next Christmas, Bailey did not disappoint.  Christmas Eve found her putting out the Santa treats with her little sister and even stomping around the living room going ho ho ho after her sister had been put in her crib.  Bailey never missed a beat those next few years as she added her own layers to the Santa story.

Christmas is about sharing.  Being Santa for our children and grandchildren is a chance to demonstrate the spirit of that sharing through our gifts.  We have an incredible opportunity to give from our bounty through our gifts and our actions and our willingness to share.  That is the true spirit of Christmas.  Model this spirit with your children and when they have outgrown their belief in Santa, invite them into the true spirit of the myth.

This Christmas, as you consider the perfect gift for that someone special, realize that it is the action of sharing that is the truly perfect gift.  This is your chance.  Don’t wait.  Go be Santa to someone.

 

I’ve Been Down This Road Before

Posted on by kwundrow

In just a few weeks I will be repeating a process I am still all too familiar with.  Though I doubt I will experience the complications of the first time, I know the time and effort it is going to take.

I’ve managed to put this off for nearly three years, but I am about to have my second knee replaced.  Thanks to the marvels of modern medicine, and apparently a 3-D printer, this has become a rather routine surgery.  At least that is what they say.  None the less, I am not relishing the rehab and yes, in the short run, the pain that the rehab will provide.  The only bright side … I know what to expect and I think I am so much better prepared this time around.  To that end, I just returned from the preparation class.  What was obvious, was the additional detail and information this time around.

Of course all of this is still a too fresh memory.  I am committed at this point though I won’t lie.  Every day finds me questioning my decision at least once and I am in that moment, tempted to call it off.  After all, my limp is hardly noticeable and my pain, though …. a pain, is manageable.  So why do it?  Bottom line; the stiffness, the arthritic pain at night and the fact that I am feeling limited, has me believing as my doctor puts it, “why wait until it is so bad that you can’t do anything?”  I have too many things that I want to do, for me to wait until I have even less time TO DO them.  I have great faith in the surgeon and the team of professional assistants, nurses and rehab specialists that will be assisting and encouraging me as I heal and progress.  And of course there will be my coach at home keeping me focused and if I’m lucky, a little pampered.

So I know I’ve been down this road before, but I suspect the ride will be different this time.  Each experience prepares us for the next.  I am prepared for this journey and am looking forward to my new bionic knees and the activities they will re-afford me.  I was even told it could improve my golf game.  Now that is something to look forward to.

And for my friends, “Don’t cry for me Argentina.”  Shameful, but I loved the line and always wanted a place to use it.  Editorial freedom is an earned right.

Sidewalk Art

Posted on by kwundrow

This week the city paid us a visit and removed and replaced four squares of our sidewalk.  My big beautiful ash in the front lawn has over time decided its roots needed more room than the old sidewalk was allowing.  Pushing up its roots and reclaiming its territory caused several of the sidewalk squares to get just a bit too far out of level.  We now have a new smooth sidewalk and some new built in space for the tree.  But that is not the point of this piece.

Over twenty years ago, the same situation existed as the then much smaller ash was just beginning to demand some room.  Back then the city had come out and marked the squares to be replaced with a chalked “X”.  We had three squares marked that time and were calculating the cost we would be forced to cover in replacing them.  My daughter, Kathryn, was five at the time and quick to notice patterns.  As I arrived home from teaching the night before the city crew was scheduled to appear, there was Kathryn out on the front lawn, sidewalk chalk in hand.  It didn’t take long to see what she had been up to.  There laid before me my entire length of sidewalk beautifully adorned with a big white “X” on each and every square.  Kathryn, beaming from ear to ear, proudly exclaiming, “Look daddy, I finished their picture for them.”

Oops….after complimenting my budding Van Gogh, one should never starve the artist, I grabbed a scrub brush and the hose and began the task of removing her handiwork.  That of course would be the moment my neighbor appeared admonishing me on the crime he assumed I was committing.  After all, he explained, he was being forced to replace six squares.  Once I had assured him I was not responsible for anymore than my three squares, I turned my attention back to the task.

Let me tell you, it is much harder removing sidewalk chalk than one assumes.  To my credit, I had at least dimmed the effect and that next morning, when the city crew arrived bright and early, I was there explaining my young artist’s talent and dedication.  The three squares were re-identified, removed and replaced, and my wife and I vowed to find new outlets for our daughter’s budding art skills.

Turns out all IS well that ends well.  I guess we just “chalked” it up to experience.

Friends come and go….

Posted on by kwundrow

I know I haven’t written for a while and I must tell you it’s become a bit of a thing.  The act of writing is a release for me and to have a bout of writer’s block is a real stress inducer.  I also need to warn my readers that I have had three cups of coffee this morning and as my wife can attest to, that is dangerous.  One cup leaves me witty while two cups brings out my sarcastic side.  Three cups is basically uncharted territory.

Friends mean everything to me and all too often I end up obsessing about one or two that I have lost contact with.  I always blame myself for that when in reality it is a two way street.  We all become busy with the things of life.  Careers, family, hobbies and past times all conspire to get in our way and suddenly that list of people you lost touch with starts to grow.

If you are now expecting some words of wisdom from me remember that I already warned you about the caffeine intake.  You can remain hopeful but I promise nothing.  It is just that for two days in a row, I have managed to reconnect with three groups of friends in a guilt driven effort of reunion frenzy.  It started yesterday with a lunch date with two of my previous co-workers and then continued last evening with a surprise birthday party for a friend that conveniently brought together several friends from an old couples group.

This morning, after an excruciating patience demanding drive across town in rush hour traffic, (I just needed that off my chest so thank you for that moment of venting) I arrived at a breakfast reunion with fellow retired teachers from my now distant past.  The group meets at the same restaurant every first Friday of the month for breakfast.  I had known about it but just couldn’t seem to find the time to attend.  Or was it the fear that I wouldn’t be able to go back to those old times with any success.  The moment I walked into the room, two things happened.  The first was instant acknowledgement by the assembled group.  They both acknowledged me and even though twenty plus years had passed us by, I still recognized them.  There is always that fear that as Thomas Hardy said “you can never go back”.  My apologies to Mr. Hardy but that was my take away or at least all I gathered a million years ago in some english lit class that I had been required to take.  Maybe one day I should actually read the book, but for now my contorted interpretation of his statement will suffice.  The point is we can go back, if we are willing, and might just be surprised that as much as life can change us there is still the chance for reconnections to take place.

The second thing that happened was that within a matter of minutes, the conversations took me back to the memories of the careers we had shared and the years between melted away.  The beauty of these reunions is that they take us back to times that were part of our life’s journey and were quite often the defining moments of who we had become.  It is important to realize that in those reunion conversations we focus on the happy memories.  Those memories of the times, that even though they may have had struggles and rough spots, we found ways to have fun.  That is what made us friends, that drew us together, that represented the commonalities we shared.

Breakfast lasted two hours, thus three cups of caffiene, and thanks to the memories, I was able to catch up.  We shared stories from the past and pictures from the present.  We marveled at how our thirteen and fourteen year old students of the past were now in there forties and yes, fifties, even as we were denying that we had aged at all.  The beauty of telling stories from the past is that our own age somehow retreats as the memories return us to those days.  Maybe even “the good old days.”

So if there is a point to this story it is that we should stop feeling guilty about the friends we lost touch with and just take the opportunity when it arises to reconnect.  Friends don’t really come and go, we just get separated by time.  Take the chance to go back in time every once and a while and surprise those friends that time has separated us from.  Odds are you might just surprise yourself at how quickly the years that separate you disappear.

Prost!

 

All good things….

Posted on by kwundrow

We have arrived in Switzerland and tonight we dine in Lucerne.  The Alps form the backdrop of most of our pictures and rise straight up out of the flat plains that surround them.

But let’s go back to yesterday and our farewell to the crew, the boat and new dear friends.  We have spent the last seven days doing pretty much everything together and saying goodbye last night was very difficult.  We have promised to stay in touch and have made some preliminary plans to visit each other’s homes.  Our friends are from Atlanta so this will take some dedication to make the journey either way.

When you travel in a group as we have these last seven days, it becomes quite easy to share our stories and suddenly find ourselves becoming bonded over common likes and plans.  This is a side effect of the travel but really one of the most important aspects of it.  There are river ships and ocena ships but the greatest are the friendships.

So this morning, we left the boat headed for our stay in Lucerne, without our Georgia friends.  They had left much earlier and caught their flight for home.  Though strange, we were still looking forward to our extended stay in Switzerland.

After our city tour and a quick lunch of local cuisine, we were on a bus headed for Stanserhorn and the long ride to its summit.  We start with a cog railroad ride for the first leg.  The train is the original train from 1893.  As we climb up the open meadow flank of the mountain, we see Lucerne and the surrounding villages drop away below us.  But this is just the first leg and the real climb waits at the end of the rail line.  At about 1/6 of the way up the mountain, we switch over to the cable car.

I have been on cable cars before.  I have been higher up on mountains out west, but this was clearly different.  Not sure whether it was the steepness or just the seeming singleness of this peak, but the sense of vertigo was overwhelming.  One can only wish the pictures could adequately display the view and somehow create the same sensation of floating, but only being there can have you truly appreciating the majesty of the Alps.

As if the sheer power and magnitude of the mountain and our precarious ride up its face were not impressive enough, there was a surprise.  Nearing the top, in a clearing hanging on the side of the mountain, we could see the switchbacks of a trail and then, to our surprise, the appearance of cows grazing at an incredibly impossible angle.  And where there were cows, there were farm buildings perched on the terraces of the mountain.

Switzerland has, by law, no corporate farms.  The average farm in Switzerland is a postage stamp fifty acres.  What shocked me, was that even here, high on this mountain side, farmers and their families were harvesting meadow hay for the cattle.

After a white knuckle hike to the final summit and a cliff walk back to the top of the cable car, we were headed back down.  Our cameras were full of the shots we could only hope told the story but the views and the sensations we experienced were etched in our memories and would travel down the mountain with us and then back to our homes as our journey was coming to an end.

We are comfortably seated at our restaurant on the edge of the canal.  Our waiter is bringing us more drinks and food as we listen to an impromptu concert break out across the canal.  The Alps are bathed in the waning sunlight as evening closes in on us.

One more day in Switzerland.  One more chance to record the memories of a country I never thought I’d see.  One more day to be the traveler.