The Christmas Dragon: Part 4

Flying Lessons

“Whoa, Max, whoa,” I screamed, trying to slow him down. El laughed. I think even Rudolph laughed. I didn’t. Max dove and spun. Climbed into the sky, then rolled in the air.Boy on a Dragon

I was terrified.

“He’s not a horse, Joe, whoa will not work.” El flew alongside, sliding up to whisper in Max’s ear. He slowed down and leveled off, gliding through the air with just a slight jostle at each beat of his wings.

“Better?” she asked.

“No,” I yelled, my arms wrapped tight around Max’s neck. “I don’t want to die,”

“No one’s gonna die,” she grinned, “as long as you pay attention. Okay? Relax. Enjoy the ride. How many people do you know get a chance to ride a flying dragon?”

I sat up just a bit, looking around. The sky was a deep blue, I knew I should be cold this high up, but I wasn’t. I felt warm. El slid up alongside me.

“Ready to try a few things?”

“I think so.” I was scared, but I did my best to pretend.

Believe it or not, flying a dragon is kinda easy. Just a few commands to learn, a couple of touches with the hand to steer, and I was flying a dragon.

We’d practice every day, all day, until school started. Then, I had to sneak out the window at night to continue to practice.  Once, my mom almost caught me. I had just climbed back in. Max was halfway in when my Mom knocked on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Ah, well, can you wait a minute I’m just getting into my pajamas.”

“Joe, I’m your mother. Nothing I haven’t seen.” The door opened. I stood there still fully dressed.

“A new kind of pajamas I see,” Mom said.

“I, ah, I was just getting started.”

“Why is the window open? It’s cold in here.” She started toward the window. Max was half in and half out. His eyes grew wide as he tried to back out before….

Down came the window, right on Max’s hand.

“Why is this window stuck?” Mom said as she slammed it again.

Up until that point, I’d only heard Max speak in a quiet voice. He yanked his hand back and let out a roar like a jet plane.

Mom pushed hard on the window. “What was that?”

I shrugged, “probably a plane or something.” I stood next to her, watching Max clutching his hand and spinning in the air. His wings made the trees sway and the bushes shake.

“Let’s pull down the shades, shall we?” Mom said. “Why don’t you put on real pajamas and get to bed, it’s late.” She closed the blinds, kissed me on the head, and walked out. “Don’t stay up too late reading, early day tomorrow and it’s supposed to snow. Looks like a White Christmas this year.” She closed the door on the way out.

I waited a couple of minutes until I heard Mom and Dad talking downstairs, then opened the shade. Max’s face filled the window. eyesHe still clutched his hand to his chest.  I opened the window as quietly as I could.

Max flew in, curling up into his spot, which was almost all of my room, and put his head on my bed. “If she wasn’t your mother I would–.”

“Max, mom can’t see you. It’s not her fault. Next time when I say time to go in don’t waste time. Just come in.”

Max gave a harrumph, closed his eyes, and ignored me.  I yawned and fell fast asleep.

“Joe, wake up. Wake up.” A voice whispered in my ear, and someone shook my arm. I opened one eye. “It’s too early, Mom. I’m still sleeping.”

“Joe, it’s El. We have to go.”

I rubbed my eyes and sat up. Max was standing up, rocking back and forth. El stood at the end of my bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Time for you to go to work, something’s happened at the North Pole.”

That got my attention. “What happened?” I looked around. “Where’ Rudy?”

“That’s the problem. Santa needs you and Max. Rudy and all the other reindeer are gone.”

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

Santa’s Other List: Thoughts for the Twelve Days of Christmas

Most of us are familiar with the famous lists kept by Santa Claus. As children, we strive to be on the nice list.

As the hormones of puberty arise, we respond to our new-found sexuality. We live in hope that those we find attractive are on the naughty list. There is an irresistible draw to stray a bit.

Through parental intervention, shit luck, positive pregnancy tests, emergency room visits, or one too many rides in the back seat of a police car, most return from the dark side.

Or do we?

I think there is a third list.

The Numb List.

We become numb to the spirit that is Christmas.

We become numb to wonder, excitement, and hope.

We become numb to life in exchange for living.

When we are most suited to understand opportunity in our lives, we settle for becoming numb to the world.

We ignore injustices inflicted on others, if it has no effect on us.

We ignore the growing gap of the haves and the have nots, if we see ourselves content with our life.

We take offense at those who would cause us harm, yet stand idly by as others face harm.

We immerse ourselves in our iPhones, iPads, and iWorlds. Substituting email, tweets, and texts for human interaction.

Think about it. When was the last time you had a conversation with a friend? One that didn’t involve emoticons or videos of dogs riding on the backs of elephants?

I think the “I” in idevices stands for idiots. Or worse, impotent.

We’ve become “useful idiots” to our devices. They have made us impotent to making a difference in the world.

We are all on the numb list.

Numb to feeling any real emotion for our fellow humans.

Numb to the spirit of Christmas, or any other myriad traditions, that once were so important to us all.

Numb to being human beings, in a vast universe, open to unimaginable possibilities.

We are on the precipice of an unprecedented change in this country. We need to pay attention, lest we lose everything to ignorance and blustering intolerance.

Now is not the time to be numb. Now is not the time to be nice.

Now is the time for reclaiming hope. Yet, I fear it will go unheeded. The numb list is a comfortable place to be for most.

If that is the case, I prefer to rejoin the naughty list. Make noise in the presence of things that are wrong in the world.

Laugh with the sinners, not cry with the saints. At least they lived a life, not tolerated an existence.

Christmas Traditions: Variations on a Theme

There is a commonality shared among many families around Christmas or other special holidays. They have traditions. Long held, choreographed, well-established traditions passed down generation-to-generation, by which they celebrate holidays.

We do not. I like to think of our traditions as non-traditional. Think of it as a Jazz improvisation of Christmas instead of the Handel’s Messiah version.

We like to wing it.

Each year a little different from the year before, much of this determined by the latest cast of characters.

When our daughter Kelsey first joined our non-traditional traditions, it added to the wonder and magic. Christmas consisted of mountains of presents, requiring hours of wrapping, followed by the unforgettable wide-eyed expression as she first saw the gifts.

That was just her first Christmas; it got bigger and more magical after that.

Over the years Kelsey has gone from the small, little, squirming, bundle of wonder into a remarkable young woman.

She stands on the cusp of a new period of her life; she is engaged to an equally remarkable young man. Soon, if they are as fortunate as my wife and I, they will create their own Christmas traditions. Whatever they turn out to be.

This year’s celebration of Christmas Eve consisted of much good food, small gathering of family, and watching Charlie Brown’s Christmas and The Muppets Christmas Carole.

The Muppets have the best lines.

…light the candle, not the rat! Light the candle, not the rat!

 I told you, storytellers are omniscient; I know everything!

 Hoity-toity, Mr. Godlike Smarty-Pants.

And our personal favorite, which I suppose comes as close to an annual tradition as anything else,

…and Tiny Tim, who did NOT die…

Therefore, our Christmas tradition will continue to vary year to year. Over the next few years we hope to add a few new cast members (subtle hint), and create some new variations on the theme. (No pressure there Kelsey and Charles, take your time, we can wait for a bit)

Our non-traditional tradition always includes wishes to all for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Enjoy whatever it is you do to celebrate this time of year.

….Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men…as Linus would say.

 

Life Lessons from Yukon Cornelius

I am one of the fortunate ones. I grew up during the last Age of Innocence.

Technology did not rule our lives. We did not spend our time bent over a device named for a fruit. We picked fruit from trees. I realize I could not be reaching those of you reading this without technology, but I still lament the invasiveness of it.

We had toys, games, and books. None of them robbed us of the joys of scraped knees, torn pants, bee stings, catching frogs, and exploring the woods. Sharing real experiences with real friends, not virtual ones.

In other words, living life.

We did not need an app to play ball or fish, we had bats and gloves and fishing poles (even if it was just a stick.)

We did watch television. All three channels, until the snowy screen of those UHF channels arrived. Harbingers of what loomed in the future.

TV time began at 6 pm with the news, followed by two or three of our favorite sitcoms. Breaking news meant something important or tragic happened, not a reading error at a beauty pagent.

As we grew older we earned the privilege of staying up for “Late Night” TV, the late show ending at midnight. Playing of the National Anthem, a few shots of Navy Blue Angels or Air Force Thunderbirds, then nothing until morning.

Technology has robbed us of the joy of anticipation. Be it a letter in the mail, an annual showing of a movie, or TV specials. It would seem nothing is special anymore.

We looked forward to the annual broadcast of our favorite shows. Not watching it over and over on demand.

For me, I remember three the best.

The Wizard of Oz

Charlie Brown’s Christmas

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

Each of them made an impact on our lives.

The first time I saw the Wizard of Oz on a color TV. Magic. If there is anyone under the age of fifty reading this, they are probably trying to figure out why TV’s came in different colors.

Linus’s speech about the meaning of Christmas. Memorable. Too bad most have forgotten it. Every time I hear Vince Guaraldi’s Linus and Lucy theme, I see Linus walking across the stage, the single spotlight on him, and he explains with just a few words the true spirit of Christmas.

For me, the one that made the most lasting impact, even without me realizing it, was Yukon Cornelius from Rudolph.

He lived a simple life. All he needed, he carried with him. When he went shopping it was for “cornmeal and gun powder and ham hocks and guitar strings.”

He knew what mattered. Living for today, be loyal to friends, and forgive your enemies. He chased his dream daily.

Of the many nice songs to come out of this show, my favorite was when Clarice sings to Rudolph, “There’s always tomorrow for dreams to come true.”

Life has a way of demonstrating that such sentiment, while touching, is false.

As many of us know, and some of my family are reminded of every December 22nd, tomorrow is promised to no one.

So, adopt the philosophy of Yukon Cornelius. If it does not fit on a sled, you do not really need it. If you have a dream, pursue it today.

Call a friend, see your family, get out and meet someone new. Do it today, spend your time wisely.

For while dreams may come true tomorrow, perhaps a call, or a letter, or (I hate to admit) even an email or a text could bring a smile to someone today.

Do not wait for a dream to come true while you have the gift of time right now.

Merry Christmas, HO HO HO, Happy Holidays, and all that stuff.

Killing Christmas

We are, all of us, killing Christmas.

We are engaged in the destruction of fellowship, good will, and a wish for happiness for all by abandoning rationality, tolerance, and understanding.

This once uplifting time of the year fallen victim to our insistence on highlighting differences, rather than embracing them.

It is us versus them.

We are on the side of good; they are on the side of evil.

If you are not with us, you are against us.

Does it really matter if one says Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays?

Of course not.

Yet some would have us believe respecting differences is in some way an abandonement of our own beliefs.

Or that making an effort to understand differences is a sign of weakness or surrender.

Nothing could be further from the truth or less in keeping with the spirit of Christmas.

The term Christmas may have originated in a particular religious philosophy, but the spirit it represents crosses all faiths and philosophies.

This world is at a crisis stage. Not because the threat facing us is any worse than others but because we face a choice of how we respond.

We can either move ahead as a race of intelligent, rational, and understanding beings or fall back into the violence of our past.

Differences make us better. Seeking to eliminate those differences diminishes us.

The Spirit of Christmas is universal. We do it a great disservice by ignoring that fact.

We are killing the true spirit of Christmas. We need to stop before it is too late for all of us.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Fröhliche Weihnachten, Giáng sinh vui vẻ, or Live Long and Prosper, does not really matter how you say it as long as you live it.