New Year’s Eve Feast

I am the queen of appetizers and New Year’s Eve is a night when I can show off.  Tonight we are enjoying a feast of favorites.

- Texas caviar (with black-eyed peas for good luck in the New Year)

- queso & chips

- homemade boursin cheese, homemade cheese ball & crackers

- potato skins

- tiny pigs in a blanket

- lil’ smokies in bbq sauce because...of course we are

We’ll eat, play games, scratch off our lottery tickets, and drink a toast (or two!) to a happy new year.  That’s happy!

December Book Report: An Irish Country Christmas

I first read Alice Taylor’s collection of stories when I was in my early 20s and lived in Nashville.  Over the years, I’ve made time each December to re-read the book.  In those 20-plus years, the story of Taylor’s Christmas traditions has become one of my Christmas traditions.  

Taylor’s book is a collection of stories about Christmas traditions from the year she was 9 years old.  The setting is rural Ireland in the mid-1940s and the memories of our 9 year old narrator are balanced by an author now in her mid-50s, reflecting with fondness and affection on the traditions of her childhood.

The story is sentimental, but never cloying.  At various points, it’s funny.  Written by an adult reflecting on her 9 year old self, it captures the arc of a lifetime of holiday memories.  There is great charm in remembering the magic of childhood.  Over the years that I’ve read these stories, I’ve remembered my own childhood Christmas memories, planned Christmas treats that will become JT’s holiday memories, and thought about what I value most about holiday traditions.

I read the book to JT when he was still a believer.  When he sees me re-reading the collection each December, he recalls the best moments of the stories as he experienced them.  We still laugh about a scene caused by a cat and repeat the phrase, “where did that frigger of a cat come from?” as we remember.  I like the fact that Alice Taylor’s stories of Christmas have become part of my family’s traditions during the holidays.

Oh, 2016

This year, I wrote a monthly book report on the last day of the month.  I managed to fulfill that goal and there is a book report coming your way tomorrow.  So I’ll take the day before the end of the year to note my reflections on  2016.  

It somehow seems fitting to try and bring this painful year to an early close.

For the record, 2016, you were a real pain in the ass.  In hindsight, the Blizzard of 2016 may have been the metaphor that set the stage for 2016.  There was only one big snowstorm in my neck of the woods last winter, but it was a doozy.  In so many respects, 2016 was a typical enough year.  But when it made a punch, it was playing for keeps.  The stunning, horrible, no-good election of Donald Trump to be the American president has to be the worst event of the year from my point of view.  That it happened because notions of facts and truth seem to have been replaced by “I read it on the Internet” may be the enduring bad news of my life time.

2016 reminded us that racism and violence go hand-in-hand and are ever-present in our nation.  We learned that accomplished women can be dismissed by unaccomplished men and women who’ve drunk the patriarchy koolaid.  In Aleppo, Syria; the Sudan; the Congo; the Philippines, and other places we’ve learned of the depths of human depravity and the limits of the world’s willingness to help the powerless.  

Ugh.

Though I’m eager to see the year’s bad news come to a close, I remind myself that 2017 will bring the inauguration of an unqualified, self-absorbed Cheetoh Kleptocrat to the presidency.  I fully expect 2017 to be the year Americans discover that we no longer rule the world and, worse than that, perhaps aren’t even qualified to govern ourselves.   

I try to live on the optimistic edge of the universe but 2016 has made that a challenge.  But I prefer to live in hope.  I know so many others who will join us to do the heavy lifting to make sure that hope prevails.   And so I choose promise over fear and look to 2017 with hope in my heart.

12 Months of Miss Read: December

The backstory: At the start of 2016, I pulled out my very favorite Miss Read book, Village Centenary.  The novel is structured in months and each chapter explores a month in the year of a village school that is celebrating its 100^th anniversary.  This year, my own school is celebrating its 250^th anniversary and as we think of our past and look to our future, I thought that Miss Read would make a lovely companion for me.  For each month of 2016, I plan to read Miss Read’s reflection on the month.

Miss Read is a pseudonym for Dora Jessie Saint, an English author who wrote between 1955 and 1996.  Her novels were tales of every day life in small English towns.  Village Centenary is set in Fair Acre, an imaginary Cotswold community.  As is the case in nearly all of the Fair Acre novels, the novel is written in the first person and it is through our narrator, school teacher Miss Read, that the story unfolds.

Miss Read in December

Miss Read ends her school’s 100th year with a celebration at the Fair Acre schoolhouse, one that features re-enactments from the school journal, a daily report that the head of school writes.  The re-enactments are a collection of charming, amusing, and poignant periods in Fair Acre School’s history, meant to include the community and celebrate both the history and changes the school has experienced over the years.  Miss Read’s celebration closed with the school annual December tradition, a holiday tea.

At my school, we’ve had various celebrations of our school’s 250 years, including publication of a book detailing the school’s last 50 years of history, an update to an earlier historical edition.  This part of the celebration appeals to me the most, of course, because history is a big part of my world.  Each year, I teach my students about the Great Awakening and I tell them the story of the founding of our school as a direct outcome of that historical time.  Whether they are 7th graders or 11th graders, the students enjoy learning about their school’s origins; they feel proud to be part of something so enduring.  

The older I get, the more I value the ways in which a sense of our shared history is empowering.  In 7th grade, I teach the first half of American history and my students and I explore the notion of who we are as a nation by exploring how that identity first came to be.  For most adolescents, the 7th grade year is all about change, some of it thrilling and some of it anxiety-producing.  I hope that in my class the students can see what has endured; that a sense of history will serve as an anchor as they navigate the waves of change.

Amaryllis Tuesday: Week One, December 27

I received an amaryllis bulb for Christmas.  Planting the bulb is among my most favorite Winter traditions.  I am excited to watch it grow and I expect to be pleased and impressed with the flowers the bulb will generate.   This bulb is named "Aphrodite Double" which sounds impressive.

Watching my amaryllis bulb is both a celebration of Winter and a reminder of what the next season will bring.  For the next few weeks, as the bulb gets ready to flower, I'll be sharing a photo of the changing bulb each week.  That’s happy!

Boxing Day

While I don’t have a “wrestling mom” sticker on my car, be assured that many a New Jersey wrestling mom does roll up to meets proclaiming that she is the mother of a wrestler.  T declares that it’s just a reminder to bring your insurance co-pay to the match and often I fear that she is correct.

The wrestling season of matches is blissfully short —— it lasts from late December to mid-February —— but what it lacks in length in makes up for in a crazy practice schedule.  After school practice started just after Thanksgiving and most days, JT doesn’t get to my office until 5:45 pm, a sweaty, stinky mess of a boy with a scratched and mat-burned face.  I long ago learned not to greet him after practice by proclaiming, “what happened to your face?!” but the temptation remains.

Where the wrestling season really exacts its toll is during Winter Break, when daily practice happens at 9 am and skipping or being late is not an option.  We had Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off but there is practice for the rest of the week, through the 29th.  I’m happy about 3 days off for the New Year celebration, though I won’t live it up that much.

Guess who is running a 5k on the first of January?

The blessing of wrestling season is that JT loves and respects the coaches and his teammates.  The work ethic he’s learned from the sport has carried over into his school work and his other sports.  The ability to work hard, be a good teammate, and then stand on your own in the spotlight are life skills that will stand him well in life.  So I get up early and drive to practice with nary a peep, glad for a happy and hard-working boy.

Christmas Blessings

I have a good friend who is the mother of two young children, four year olds who are firm believers in Santa.  I thought of her as we were both playing Santa last night.  I could very well imagine children so excited for Santa that they could barely lie still in their beds, let alone sleep.  It wasn’t so long ago that I had a small child who was thrilled beyond measure at the prospect of Santa leaving him surprises on the red bench at the foot of the stairs.

As E played Santa for four year olds, I played Santa for a 16 year old who was wide awake and talking with his friends via the app du jour.  I played Santa and then tucked into bed, advising JT to stay upstairs for the rest of the night to preserve his Christmas morning surprises.

I’ve long believed that Christmas morning makes up for the times when being a parent is hard.   I still believe that’s true, even when it's your 16 year old taking joy in Santa’s generosity.

The magic is different, but the blessings are the same: the smile of a child who receives a gift that shows how well he is known and loved.  The pleasure of being told “thank you” by a 16 year old who is well-aware of his blessings isn’t the same as the unvarnished joy of a four year old.  But though it’s different, it’s no less rewarding.   We are lucky and blessed and happy to say so.

I’ll take it.

Christmas Eve Planning and Preparation

This morning finds me closing in on the last of my Christmas chores.  I don’t feel like chore is the right word, because I enjoy the planning and preparation that happens today.  My dining room table, currently filled with supplies for lesson planning (thinking of you, 6th grade!), cards, stray treats, and wrapping supplies, will be cleared off and made ready for the feast and celebration to come.

The living room will be cleared of baskets of folded laundry and the rug vacuumed in advance of Santa's arrival.

There is plenty of advance cooking yet to be completed —— pumpkin pie to be baked; potatoes to be wrapped in foil and roasted for our Christmas supper potato casserole; tonight’s appetizers to be finished and ready to set out when the boy returns home and the twilight arrives.  The last of the packages will be wrapped and the bin of holiday wrapping paper will be carried back down to the basement.

I enjoy this day of busy planning and look forward to the evening.  My boy may be big and 16 but I still play Santa, for myself as much as for him.  When our stockings are filled and set out later tonight, I will remember previous Christmas Eve surprises and plans;  the memories will bring me a lovely happy glow.  I will count my blessings and feel very merry indeed.

Pretty Packages

We are closing in on the big day and happily, I am nearly done with my wrapping. 

I don’t tire of this task and will be sorry to put away my wrapping supplies.  But Christmas is calling and a day of relaxation and gifts exchanged with the people I love does sound quite lovely.  Merry, merry!

Winter Solstice

Today is the Winter Solstice.  Officially, the day of the Winter Solstice is that point in the earth’s orbit when the North Pole is it’s furthest distance from the sun.  The North Pole has plunged into total darkness and those of us in the Northern Hemisphere will have a day with the least amount of sunlight.  For the next few weeks, our sunlight will be in short supply.  Come mid-January, the minutes of sunlight will begin to slowly tick upward.  By the first days of February, there will be weak daylight past 5 pm and I will celebrate because by then I will have grown weary of Winter's darkness.  

For the most part, I don’t mind Winter’s cold but I do find the darkness trying.  As Winter descends, I turn my face toward the sunlight, looking to soak up as much light as I can.  I also admire the plants that make good use of the winter, including the rhododendrons that live on either side of my front steps, which I have the advantage of seeing every day.  I take time to admire the twilight because in Winter those minutes of fading light can be splendid.  I love all the seasons, largely because each one helps me to be grateful for the seasons to come.  The ease of flip flops in the Summer is made that much sweeter thanks to the bitter cold of Winter.  That Winter Solstice's darkness will one day be followed by June's Summer Solstice light is Mother Nature's reminder that each season must have its due for us to be complete.