On the morning after Christmas, we went to Perkins in Avondale, which is usually a pretty mellow place in the morning. Not today: there was a loud, large family making merry two tables away. The noise was no big deal, they were just being cheerful, but thank goodness the usual morning Bible study group that meets in that part of the restaurant had already departed.
The merry-makers were leaving at the same time as we were, hollering good-byes to siblings who were standing right next to them, and while we were in the lobby an elderly woman from the group came up to us.
"Sorry about all the noise," she said, explaining that all her grandchildren were there. Even though she felt the need to apologize, she couldn't conceal her joy at having her family around her. It was very sweet.
"You were pretty lively," I agreed, smiling.
"Yeah, we were thinking of joining you!" said my breakfast companion.
I was fortunate enough to spend part of Christmas Day with another joyful group that included all ages, from an infant (it was her first Christmas!) through two folks in their eighties. The toddler kept us well entertained, especially when he was playing with one of his presents, a toy coffee-maker. This wasn't just a simple percolator; no, it made lattes, and cappuccinos, and even fancy macchiatos. It made a realistic grinding sound and a steaming sound. By the end of the evening he was on his way toward becoming a full-fledged barista, except perhaps when he tried to insert the cluster of plastic beans into the customer's cup.
My sister's branch of my family celebrated Christmas at their home in Minnesota. Both college students in the family were home on their winter break, from Harvard and Stanford, and my sister reports the most memorable present was an record player. Neither of the digital-age youths was familiar
with this ancient technology: "What speed do you play them at?" " Is the first song on the outside
border of the inside?"
My sister says she got out her old Beatles LPs and played them all
afternoon.
Friday, December 26, 2014
ON THE MEND: Clean living and a good immune system
I suppose that everyone just might be right: maybe I am slightly competitive after all.
This afternoon I was bragging about how quickly and thoroughly I routed a nasty Christmas cold, missing only one item on the busy social calendar.
A friend offered an alternative explanation.
"Maybe it was a wimpy cold," he suggested. "Instead of a rhino-virus it was ... oh, a chipmunk-virus."
Gee. Thanks for that.
This afternoon I was bragging about how quickly and thoroughly I routed a nasty Christmas cold, missing only one item on the busy social calendar.
A friend offered an alternative explanation.
"Maybe it was a wimpy cold," he suggested. "Instead of a rhino-virus it was ... oh, a chipmunk-virus."
Gee. Thanks for that.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
AUTOGRAPHED: All I wanted was a right-side-up signature
At last, post-Christmas, all can be revealed about what I went through to buy a copy of "41," President George W. Bush's brand-new biography of his father, President George H.W. Bush.
I thought it would make a great Christmas present for my father, so I went to the Bush Center's website and ordered an extra-special copy signed by the author.
It arrived a few days later. I opened the package and carefully turned to the autographed page.
It was signed, all right: upside down.
I went online and looked up W's signature: the one I had was authentic, yes, just 180 degrees in the wrong direction.
I fully realized the irony of this: Here is a politician deemed by many to be less than intelligent, and he signed a book upside down.
I immediately shared this news on Facebook and my friends, mostly liberals, absolutely ate it up. One wrote to the hip late-night political talk shows that skew strongly to the left and suggested they feature my copy of the book for amusement value.
Others persuaded me that it was far more valuable than a right-side-up book and that I should try to sell it on eBay. So I did, but alas there were no takers.
I spoke to a rare book dealer, and he told me that what probably happened was that W had been given just the pages to sign, not the whole book, and a binding error was to blame.
So finally I called the Bush Center and informed them about the upside-down signature. There was a long silence.
"You have a very unique book," the bookstore person said.
Yes, I realized that, I told her, but I had paid a lot of money for it and really wanted a right-side-up signature. She understood and replaced my copy immediately.
I thought it would make a great Christmas present for my father, so I went to the Bush Center's website and ordered an extra-special copy signed by the author.
It arrived a few days later. I opened the package and carefully turned to the autographed page.
It was signed, all right: upside down.
I went online and looked up W's signature: the one I had was authentic, yes, just 180 degrees in the wrong direction.
I fully realized the irony of this: Here is a politician deemed by many to be less than intelligent, and he signed a book upside down.
I immediately shared this news on Facebook and my friends, mostly liberals, absolutely ate it up. One wrote to the hip late-night political talk shows that skew strongly to the left and suggested they feature my copy of the book for amusement value.
Others persuaded me that it was far more valuable than a right-side-up book and that I should try to sell it on eBay. So I did, but alas there were no takers.
I spoke to a rare book dealer, and he told me that what probably happened was that W had been given just the pages to sign, not the whole book, and a binding error was to blame.
So finally I called the Bush Center and informed them about the upside-down signature. There was a long silence.
"You have a very unique book," the bookstore person said.
Yes, I realized that, I told her, but I had paid a lot of money for it and really wanted a right-side-up signature. She understood and replaced my copy immediately.
PATTON MIDDLE SCHOOL: Not just a lecture on "the facts about drugs"
The discussion at my family's traditional Christmas Eve luncheon was a wide-ranging one, and I took particular interest in an account by the Young Relative of a recent drug abuse program he attended at his middle school. He said he and his friends thought it would be just another lecture that they'd have to sit through -- but no. This was a graphic and hard-hitting program showing the physical toll that drug abuse can take. It included dramatic recordings of phone calls to parents in the aftermath of drug overdoses and arrests.
Thankfully, the assembly had an impact on this hard-to-impress group of kids. I asked the Young Relative why, and he thought for a minute and said it was because the people who put the program together showed respect for their audience and treated them as maturing young people who would, more likely than not, soon be facing this situation.
Thankfully, the assembly had an impact on this hard-to-impress group of kids. I asked the Young Relative why, and he thought for a minute and said it was because the people who put the program together showed respect for their audience and treated them as maturing young people who would, more likely than not, soon be facing this situation.
CAROL SING: A spirited evening in an old Quaker meetinghouse
Normally the West Grove Friends Meeting's carol sing is an introspective, low-key, reverent event. It's held in a tiny, mostly unused meetinghouse that is illuminated by only a few candles. It's so dim that you can't recognize people from very far away; plus everyone is bundled up in layers because the only heat comes from a pot-bellied stove. When the fire-tender opens the door to add another log, you can see a mephitic red glow from inside the stove.
Usually, in Quakerly fashion, a small group of hardy singers settles into atmospheric silence, and when the spirit moves you, you start signing a Christmas carol, and everyone else joins in.
This year it was considerably more jolly. First of all, the benches were full, not just the ones closest to the stove. Second, people came prepared to sing, really sing, and not just traditional religious carols but secular Christmas songs. Even after the formal part of the carol sing ended, a bunch of us got our hot chocolate (heated atop the stove) and cookies and brownies and then returned to singing.
Everyone knows the first verse of songs, but there was a lot of hesitation over the second verse.
At one point I started "Good King Wenceslas" and when we finished the first verse ("Deep and crisp and even"), I kept singing -- "He rules the world with truth and grace" -- feeling a little smug for knowing the rest of the song. Gamely, my fellow singers joined in.
At the end of the verse I stopped.
"That wasn't `Good King Wenceslas,' was it," I said shamefacedly.
It was a lovely event, full of fellowship, and not spoiled in the least by the fact that people used their cellphones to provide both light and lyrics.
Usually, in Quakerly fashion, a small group of hardy singers settles into atmospheric silence, and when the spirit moves you, you start signing a Christmas carol, and everyone else joins in.
This year it was considerably more jolly. First of all, the benches were full, not just the ones closest to the stove. Second, people came prepared to sing, really sing, and not just traditional religious carols but secular Christmas songs. Even after the formal part of the carol sing ended, a bunch of us got our hot chocolate (heated atop the stove) and cookies and brownies and then returned to singing.
Everyone knows the first verse of songs, but there was a lot of hesitation over the second verse.
At one point I started "Good King Wenceslas" and when we finished the first verse ("Deep and crisp and even"), I kept singing -- "He rules the world with truth and grace" -- feeling a little smug for knowing the rest of the song. Gamely, my fellow singers joined in.
At the end of the verse I stopped.
"That wasn't `Good King Wenceslas,' was it," I said shamefacedly.
It was a lovely event, full of fellowship, and not spoiled in the least by the fact that people used their cellphones to provide both light and lyrics.
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