2017.10 Tucson memories

I have a theory that time speeds up in relationship to a person’s age.  When I was a child it seemed like Christmas took forever to get here, and now, as an adult, if I am not careful, I still have boxes of Christmas things waiting to be put up and suddenly here it is again.  Yes, there is the whole thing where out lives are busier as adults, and how technology speeds things up even more.  However I am not convinced that somewhere a twisted Dumbledore is spinning a time turner with my name on it.

I was working on a blog entry on Christmas books, and I had this memory I wanted to share from December 1985.  I was a sophomore in HS and I had flown to Tucson to spend Christmas with my Mom.  Jenni had hitched a ride with the youth group at First Christian to take her to Santa Fe to spend Christmas with our Dad. In the middle of all the usual Christmas stuff, my Mom was preparing for the Great Peace March.  If you don’t remember, or perhaps weren’t around in the 80’s it was a was a cross-country event in 1986 aimed at raising awareness to the growing danger of nuclear proliferation and to advocate for complete, verifiable elimination of nuclear weapons from the earth. The GPM consisted of hundreds of people, began in Los Angeles, CA in February 1986 to walk from L.A. to Washington, D.C,  The group left Los Angeles on March 1, 1986 and arrived in Washington, D.C. on November 15, 1986, a journey of about 3,700 miles, nine months, and many campsites.

Now I have stories for days about that experience, both from my Mom’s perspective and my own, but that is not what I am sharing today,  In order to prepare her for the insane amount of walking she was going to be doing we went on long walks just about every day of my break.  I am not sure how we managed to find the time for this, because surely she was working?  Or maybe she was substitute teaching that year and had winter break like I did? One afternoon we walked down Prince, or maybe Grant, farther than we intended and then the “shortcut” my Mom suggested, was hardly that, and we wound up sitting on the grass at a park recuperating from a walk that had already been 5 miles and we still had to head home. 

So in our park time I showed my mom I could do a back handspring.  Then my Mom told the me the store of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. “Video-o-o-o-o”  and we laughed and hung out until we felt up to finding our way home.  Thing is, I can remember what I was wearing, levi 501’s, the surf ghandi tshirt, a long sleeve grey sweatshirt and a sleeveless bright blue sweatshirt with mickey mouse faces on the front, grey saucony running shoes.  I can remember what my mom was wearing, long sleeve generic yellow jersey with #88 on it, denim overalls, and brown hiking boots. For the life of me, I can’t remember what we talked about, besides the mad max movie. 

I miss my Mom, of course, and her sense of humor, and mostly I miss having long conversations with her about clearly very important topics. 

Day Seventeen 2016

My second post for today requires the way back machine. 

This picture was taken the first year my Mom and Dad were married.  They were still students at California Baptist College and the occasion was the winter social or some such.  The way I remember my Dad telling it is that as the event approached my Mom was disappointed that she didn’t have a new dress to wear to the event, or maybe it was that she didn’t have a dress that fit?  The reason is fuzzy, but the dress was the issue.  So my Dad went out and picked this fabric, that he thought was lovely, and somehow conspired with his new mother-in-law to get this dress made for my Mom.  As the story goes, my Granny Horton ran a dry goods store and the local seamstress kept a dressmakers dummy set to my mom’s measurements so the task was accomplished much easier than expected.  So, when the time came for the winter formal, ho ho ho, my Mom had a brand new dress that my Dad had surprised her with.  And they posed, like everyone else I assume, with Santa that night.

I love this picture even without the cute story, because my parents look so young, and so happy together.

Then there is the flip side of this story.  In 1991, the first year that Kathleen and I were married, we had a similar situation with the big Hanging of the Green at OBU.  We were newlyweds, formal dresses weren’t exactly a budget item.  However, Kathleen did have a blue bridesmaid dress that she had worn to Hope Snow’s wedding the year before.  The problem was that it looked like a bridesmaid dress.  Sure, everyone says you will wear them again… But really, bright blue taffeta, puffy sleeves, drop waist with a giant bow offset on the hip.

First off all, Kathleen was never going to wear anything with a giant bow (again), even though the dress came with a matching hair bow.  So I took the dress to Ardell, the seamstress who made it, (and Kat’s wedding dress) to see if there was a way to cinderella the dress into something wearable.  I don’t know why we didn’t take pictures, or if we did, I don’t know where they are.  I think ultimately what happened was the sleeves came off and the bow.  A black lace sash was added and then pinned with a vintage brooch where the bow had been.  She wore it with her black gloves and vintage hat that was mostly netting and ribbons.  Best part? No one knew it was a bridesmaid dress.

Well. Best part was probably that Kathleen was happy.  

The Angel on Top of the Tree

What sits on top of your tree?  Is it an Angel? A Star? A vintage tree topper? Would it surprise you to know that more years than not we don’t have a tree topper?

It is true.  Not because I don’t own a tree topper, I do.  In fact I have at least 3.  I have a red ornate vintage (but plastic) tree topper that I grew up with.  Truth be told my mom did not love it, so I think it might have come from her parents.  It is possible it was something she and my dad acquired in their short marriage but it doesn’t look like the 1970 pier one stuff they purchased together.  Kathleen hates it.  She loves that it is something I grew up with, but the few times we have used it she has rolled her eyes.  “Oh that tacky thing?” have been words I have heard her utter.

There is also a tin angel I got from my mom.  She bought it in Nogales, Mexico when I was growing up.  It doesn’t sit very well on a tree, it is too short and too wide.  It does work well with a southwestern styled tree though, but that is probably Kat’s least favorite tree decoration theme.

For years we used an angel that Kat made from paper twist ribbon and a manila file folder.  I liked it because Kat made it, and because it was something uniquely ours when we were just starting out in our marriage.  The first one she made was red, but in recent years it has started to look a little tired.  We also have a tan/brown version that she made and we never used that has made it on top our tree since we moved to Colorado.    

This year the boys wanted to use a red and white Santa hat on top of the tree in the family room.  They thought it was very funny.  I agreed it was funny, but when I asked if they really thought Mama would like it.  Paul said probably not, and Matthew said “if Gramma hears about it, we are all in for it!”  So the hat came off and I managed to get a gold wire angel to rest on top of the tree. 

In 2004 after Kat’s parents had moved to Oklahoma, we visited First Baptist Church OKC for their traditional Christmas Eve family service.  Part of the family service was a children’s sermon led by Susan Stephenson who was the children’s minister at that time.  She sat all the children, including my Paul and my Matthew, down and asked them what was on top of their Christmas tree.  I had a few minutes of panic, because I was afraid she would single out Paul or Matthew and they would tell the world we had a parrot on top of our Christmas tree that year.

Kat had rescued an African Grey parrot from the front porch that year, and although we were not able to return it to its rightful owners, the woman who came and collected the bird rewarded Kat with $500 and in recognition of that, I decorated the tree with birds, and put a green parrot on top. 

Hey!  At least it was festive!

Blue Christmas

I have written before that there are some years I can’t write about.  I confess that I am very worried that this might be one of those years.  The reason I don’t write about those years isn’t because they were bad, I have lots of good memories of those years, but they are tempered with bittersweet.

Christmas 1998 was Kathleen’s sister Stephanie’s last Christmas.  It was a hard year.  I could write about the fact that Kat changed everything about the Christmas Party menu that year (except the fudge) except that I know that was because Stephanie and Clyde weren’t coming and that it was becoming clear that Steph wasn’t going to be coming to any more ever.  I could write about opening presents Christmas eve in Wister and how Clyde purchased chicken themed gifts for Paul, Elisa Gail and his niece Harley because he was working cleaning chicken houses at that point.  Paul still has that chicken toy, and we laughed because it had 2 left feet, so it probably walked with a limp, like Stephanie was.  The problem with that is that it becomes a sad story pretty quick.

I also avoid writing about Christmas 2000, because that was my Mom’s last Christmas.  We didn’t know it, but in hindsight it changes everything.  It wasn’t a horrible year, I flew to Tucson to be with my mom while she had surgery for ovarian cysts that turned out to be cancer tumors.  A few days before the surgery she took me Christmas shopping at a very high end dress shop because she had a gift card and she heard the shop was closing.  The only thing she could find was a dark green skirt and top that didn’t fit her, and really wasn’t her style at all.  She made the decision that the outfit was meant for Kathleen, so she bought her a $200 outfit.  Sure enough the store closed down a month later. Or I could write about wedding dress shopping with Jenni that Christmas the following week, except that I can’t tell it without explaining that my Mom couldn’t do it because she was in the hospital.

Where am I going with this? Kathleen’s other sister Ann has cancer.  I know that confuses some people because Kat only has one sister, Stephanie, and she passed in 1999.  So who is Ann and how is she Kat’s sister?

Ann Patterson Hankins was Stephanie’s first roommate at OBU.  Kathleen met Ann when she was 14 and came to visit Stephanie in Shawnee.  Even after Ann left OBU, and Stephanie graduated they stayed friends, and Kathleen was the younger sister.  When Elisa Gail was born, Ann was at the hospital with our family.  When Ann’s daughters were born, Kathleen was at the hospital.  For years Ann was an extended part of our family, coming to visit when Stephanie and Clyde were in town, hosting sleepovers for Elisa Gail and Rachel when we had Elisa Gail with us.

In 1999 when Stephanie passed away Ann told Kathleen that she would be her sister.  To be fair lots of people said that to Kat, trying to be kind and to comfort her.  No one can ever replace Stephanie, and that is not what Ann meant.  What she did, was step in and do all the things that a sister would do.  Ann loves my children as much as she loves her own nieces and nephews.  She remembers birthdays, she gives wonderful gifts to them.  She has hosted baby showers for both boys, and had us over for dinner. 

Her family has attended most of our Christmas parties, and for many years followed it up by hosting a family lunch the day after for Kat’s parents and any out of town family members.  Matthew still wears the pajamas Ann made for Paul.  Actually she made pajamas for both boys that were the same as she made for her own children.  When Matthew outgrew his, he started wearing Paul’s.  Paul always talks about the amazing cinnamon rolls his aunt Ann always makes at Christmas.  And for many years we went to Ann & Stephen’s house on Christmas night for dessert because inviting people to desert lets everyone’s family have the day together without all the stress of sharing a big holiday meal.

Somewhere in all of this Ann and her family became our family.  She was there with her tribe of children when both my boys were born. My boys don’t remember their aunt Stephanie, but they have so many memories of their aunt Ann. I know that Ann is fighting, and there is every reason to believe she will prevail in this struggle.  I know that, and I pray every day that this is so.  But I am so very scared, and sometimes I cry in the car when I think about this.  I desperately don’t want this for Ann, and I hate that I can’t do anything about it.

If you know Ann you can check out her story on caring bridge here

Perfect Christmas Memories

A friend of mine from college posted this on facebook this week

I should have known this morning, when the dog stole my toothbrush, that it was going to be a bad day and I should just go back to bed. I worked my tail off all day trying to get things ready for the kids to decorate the tree tonight. It is the only night this week that my husband was really able to help us. You know that we had problems with the stand last night. We thought we fixed it. And you know I had problems with the lights today. I fixed that. Today I was able to get all the tedious beaded garland on, the red Christmas balls on, and the numerous white crocheted snowflakes on. All while the kids were at school. I felt pretty good about myself. After school, we visited family, my oldest did her homework, I got the dishes done, I fed my kids a nutritious dinner (leftovers), I got them bathed, all by 6:30. We started decorating the tree, and then my husband got home to join us. We had Christmas music going, drinking a little Braum's eggnog. Everything was great. AND THEN THE TREE FELL ON MY YOUNGEST. It couldn't have fallen on top of the larger child or one of the adults. It couldn't have just toppled to the floor. It had to fall on the four-year-old. She is fine. A little scratch on her chin is all. Her new ornament, a glass unicorn, was broken, but really nothing else. I feel pretty much defeated at this point. Unfortunately, I have a lot to do before I can go to bed. Hopefully the wires on the toppled tree will not short out and burn the house down while we are sleeping.

My heart hurts for her, because I sympathize and understand her desire to create a sweet Christmas memory for her children.  She is a good Mom so of course she wants to create lasting good memories with her girls. That is an admirable desire, and to have it all fall apart when she worked so hard. . . it is almost too much.

I read that on my phone as I was leaving work.  Thinking about it on my way home, I admit, it made me cry.  What do you do when your best desires and hard work come crashing down like that?  My friend is a pretty level headed person, she knows to laugh at herself, and I expect some day this will be a funny story. But it isn’t funny yet.

Here is the deal.  Perfect Christmas memories, the kind you see on TV, or movies, or that you remember through the perfect haze of memory are very very difficult to orchestrate. Trust me on this because I am really something of a genius at setting them up, and I am the first person to say that it is exhausting and thankless work, and the potential for disaster and tears is in direct proportion to the effort you put into it. 

So what do you do? Do you give up?  Stop trying? Just let it be?  I don’t have answers here.  I still put forth all the effort, every year.  I have learned to laugh about the mishaps though.  The fact that my boys’ favorite Christmas is what we call the year of projectile vomiting has a certain humbling effect on me.  In the meantime my suggestion is to be easy on yourself, hug your little ones close and tell them that you love them, because they don’t stay small for long.  Maybe holding them close while you still can is its own perfect memory.

The Christmas Miracle - Day 22

Party Day.

Today is our party. I haven’t written as much about the party this year as in previous years. I am looking forward to it, but I struggle. This year we are having the party back in OKC, at the Fireman’s Hall. It is a great way to see our friends and family and be together, but because it is not in our home, it feels different to me. I realize this may just be my issue. Instead of dwelling on that, I am going to share another party memory with you. 

In 1997 Kat was very pregnant with Paul. We still planned on having our party and were looking forward to the preparation involved. Also, my Mom and sister Jenni were coming for Christmas. They couldn’t make it for the party, but would be there a few days later. As usual, all that last minute preparation was taking its toll and I was struggling to get the house ready the Friday before the party. In the midst of my chaos there was a knock on the door. I knew without looking, without opening the door, or without any hint, I knew that when I opened the door my Mom and Jenni would be there. Sure enough they were.

They had decided to surprise us so they drove through the night from whatever national park Jenni was working at so that they could be there at the party. They were an absolute surprise and so helpful in the preparations. That was not the only surprise that year. Brian and Kathy Gibson had somehow managed to arrange for Brian Stevens to come from Colorado to be at the party as well. So we had double surprises that year.

So as Kat and the boys and I are preparing for our party today, my wish for everyone is that amazing feeling I had when I opened the door to find my Mom and sister standing there. That excitement and surprise beyond words. Happy party day everyone.

Olivia Helps with Christmas - Day Thirteen

Kids Christmas party

If you have been reading for a while you may have heard me mention the kids ornament party. We aren’t doing it this year so instead I thought I would share a little about this event. I miss not doing it with the boys, and I know that they miss it, but the timing didn’t work out this year.

When I was a child my Mom made ornaments with Jenni and I. I still have some of those ornaments that we hang on our tree today. When I was a little older our church in Tucson used to have a big ornament making event the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I can remember over several years learning to make southwest gods eye ornaments, wax paper stars, and some very overdone beaded and bejeweled Christmas balls.

When Paul was 2 I decided that it might be fun to have an ornament making party for Paul and some of his friends. I invited the Hankins clan, baby Scott, Rachel, and Julia Beth. I also invited Paul’s best friend for life Katie, and baby Elijah, although we weren’t expecting Lige to actually make an ornaments.

I think I had two projects planned. The first involved gluing things to a votive candle and then covering it all with glitter spray. The second project involved balls the older children painted, and Paul and Katie rolled round in glue then coated in glitter. In the process Paul and Katie both got coated in glitter. There is not much in this world better than happy children with glitter and glue in their hair and smiles on their faces.

The next year we had a brand new baby, and I don’t know that we would have done it again, but Julia Beth asked me when we were going to do that ornament thing, so we did. We have done it just about every year since then. Sometimes the cast is different. We have had Elisa Gail, Lexi and Thalia Rodriquez, Rachel and Julia, Katie, Elijah, Sammy, John Bailey, Andrew, Kyle, Max Perkins, Hilda, my sisters kids Keenan and Naomi and possibly others. We have decorated stars, snowflakes, gingerbread people, trains, snow people, and tiny wardrobes that were mistaken for outhouses. We have made mini wreaths, picture frames, candles, gingerbread houses, and I think even decorated cookies. Painted ornaments are more popular and glitter is VERY popular. In recent years I have discovered that Katie Powell is not only great with a glue gun, but also when Katie says “stop playing with star wars action figures we are making ornaments”, certain children listen and cooperate much better than when I make the same suggestion.

Could I purchase better looking ornaments? Absolutely. Will the children’s ornaments be collector’s items someday? Only to me, and I am ok with that. Scott was a child the first year we did it, and he just got married a few weeks ago. Elisa Gail is married, Rachel is married, Julia Beth, Lexi, and Thalia are all growing into beautiful young women. Even Paul and Katie might be getting too old to really enjoy it. So I am going to keep my painted and glittered ornaments and remember those children with glue and glitter and smiles. I am so proud of the adults they are all becoming, and I am glad I had them for a few minutes when they were small.

Oh Twentybaum

This year in 4th grade my Matthew has been learning to write personal narratives. He wrote several very detailed and expressive accounts for class. I had seen him working on them and read over his rough drafts at the home. The one small detail about the personal narrative assignment that he neglected to share with me is that the point of the assignment was to recount TRUE past events from his life.

His first personal narrative involved the time he fell down the stairs at his grandparents house and broke his arm. A perfect account, that never happened. He probably would have never been found out, but his powers got away with him and his second paper was about the first time he and Paul went sky diving. He would have gotten away with that but his teacher made a chance comment to Paul that she was looking forward to reading about the skydiving experience. Paul had no idea what she was talking about, which gave it all away. Rather than look at this as a negative, his teacher LOVED the fact that none of his personal narratives done for class were true.

I asked Matthew if he wanted to use his skills to write a blog entry this year, and he graciously agreed. This is what he wrote.

Christmas In July – by Matthew

One day I was walking home from school, when I saw 10, no 15, no 20 owls sitting on a roof! Then I saw a group of pelicans on a red car! Three minutes later I saw 19 ducks, 7 owls, 10 pelicans, and over one hundred baby chicks on a wedding dress!! Then it started to snow! (oh by the way the date is July 19th, 2011) I thought I even saw a dodo bird. . . not that I know what they look like. Then people started coming outside dressed in layers! Then all the animals I saw started to come closer to me!! One person even started to say, Merry Christmas to people and started to give presents away. The next thing I knew there were people driving down the street with Christmas trees strapped to the roof of their cars! The last thing that happened before I ran home in terror of Christmas in July. . . was me hearing a lot of Christmas movies. When I got home I heard Christmas carols outside my front door!

the end

Day 21

We are in the final stretch here. Christmas is on Saturday, are you finished with your shopping? What did you ask for this year? When you were a child, what was best gift you remember getting?

When my niece Elisa Gail was five, (I think, or six?) And her family stilled in Okmulgee we had Christmas there, (no, this was not the year of the days inn stay, that was another year). I think it was a quiet year, maybe just Clyde and Steph and Elisa Gail and Kat and I. Kat made a turkey and Stephanie paid for it if I remember correctly.

Elisa got up early early to open her presents, and that year she was the one who got to pass the presents out. She had picked a Christmas teddy bear as a gift for her Aunt Kathleen, because Kathleen had a lot of stuffed animals at her house when Elisa came to visit. She got me geode bookends, which I still have. But she got the best gifts of all.

From her Daddy, the cop, she got a tiny gold ring that fit on her finger perfectly. She was so excited and so proud to show everyone her pretty ring. From her Mama, the lawyer, she got her very first BB gun. She was eager to take that out in the back yard and shoot something RIGHT now! If you know my niece, you know that is still who she is. On the one hand, she is a beautiful young woman, on the other hand, she was only girl in her high school graduating class that had pictures of her and the deer she shot in the photo collage slide show.

Day something

Grrrrr…. I am having a really hard time coming up with something memorable to write about. I am Yule blocked or something. This is the fourth attempt to come up with something good. The other two ended in disaster. I got so bored writing the first one I almost fell asleep, and the second one got really depressing. Really, really depressing. Attempt four came off like a preachy Sunday school lesson. Sigh.

I confess I have internet friends that I do not actually know in real life and have not met in person. Don’t judge. They are sort of like the neighbor Wilson on the sitcom Home Improvement, sort of there, but you never see the face? Some of my friends like Roland or Billy are so funny they make me smile just thinking about them and some of the things they have done or said.

Then there is Texas Jay. I call him that because he lives in Texas, and because when we became friends I was working with another Jay, and have a former roommate named Jay, and I would start these stories and Kat would stop me and say “which Jay?” so the nickname Texas Jay was born and sort of stuck. What can I say about Texas Jay? Kat calls him the tall small man. For a while he had a blog and the tagline was “one of life’s little pleasures”. On occasion he has called me up on the phone to talk for hours about the Rolex watch his godfather gave him. I am not kidding, hours. On more than one occasion. I suspect that something in the description is going to make him sound dull, and he isn’t. And no, I don’t really care about the Rolex watch, but there is a whole entertainment factor in the consumerism that I do not have the skills to describe. When Kat was home on maternity leave after Matthew Jay would call at night while I was at work. Kat and Jay would watch food TV and he would chat inanely about Tyler Florence, Ina Garten and Sara Moulton.

Texas Jay lives in McAllen Texas, which is according to him, basically Mexico. Probably the last place you would ever have a white Christmas, (in case you were starting to wonder if I was ever going to get to Christmas?). On Christmas day 2002 McAllen had a white Christmas. The first one my friend had ever experienced in his lifetime. He called the house Christmas morning as giddy as a child. I don’t think 4 year old Paul could have been as excited about a white Christmas as Texas Jay was that year.

Then he called back later, with the cell phone “I am outside in the snow”, “who knew it was so cold?”, “how do I make a snowball?”, “is it safe to eat?” Kat and I took turns answering his questions and laughing at his enthusiasm. The lesson I learned from Texas Jay that Christmas is twofold; #1 that when you decorate for Christmas instead of red and green you can use white, gold and silver to exude a wintery elegance, and #2 that there is no age limit on the joy and excitement that a white Christmas can bring.

Day Seventeen

A Christmas Story

When Kat and I got married I was surprised to discover that she had never seen the movie “A Christmas Story.” I kept asking “How had she managed to get through high school in the 80’s and not see it?” She just gave me that look that suggested the education I received in New Mexico was somehow inferior to her California education.

Every year I kept trying to get her to watch it with me. I tried to tell the story of Ralphie and his family, and his unquenchable desire for a Red Rider BB gun. I am pretty sure she thought it was some sort of children’s version of Dirty Harry with a Santa Claus thrown in, so she kept turning me down.

In 1995 I was working at the reservation center for HFS and one of the perks was that I could stay in franchise motels or hotels for about $15 a night, as long as they were more than 50 miles from the reservation center. That year we were having Christmas in Okmulgee with Stephanie and Clyde and Elisa Gail and Kat & Steph’s parents. Rather than sleep on the air mattress on the floor in Stephanie’s study office, we got a room at the local Day’s Inn.

Hardly a resort destination, all the Day’s Inn Okmulgee had to offer was that it was clean, the rooms were warm, they allowed small pets (which was good since we had Angel with us), and they had free cable. Christmas Eve we went to church with Steph and the family, then went back to Stephanie’s house where we opened presents (presents on Christmas Eve is a strictly Dunaway tradition I am still trying to break Kathleen of). Then we went back to the hotel. If I remember correctly we said we had presents to wrap, but who were we kidding, we were young, and we had no kids, and we were organized, our presents had been wrapped for weeks. Stephanie had given us a bottle of champagne and we went back to hotel with that.

As it turned out the cable channel TNT was showing “A Christmas Story” around the clock. Kat and I sat on the bed with the dog, drank champagne from plastic hotel cups and watched the movie. Kat laughed so hard she was crying.

We do not watch it every year, but we do watch it more years than not. Now that we are parents it is part of the fun to watch it with the boys. I love it when they quote lines from the movie. Paul is partial to the line “fra-gee-lay, must be Italian!” Matthew has been known to say “OHHHH FFFFFFFF-uuuuudddddggge!” But the very best of all is Paul’s imitation of Ralphie telling Santa “I want a red rider bb gun with a compass in the stock” and then smiling that same smile from the kid in the movie. It is spot on and high-larious.

Day fourteen

So I told a Christmas Julie story and a Christmas Jenni story, so today will be a Christmas Ben story. Not that he has internet access to read it, but never mind.
When I was in high school, and we were living in the Corte del Potro house (so maybe Christmas 87) my little brother Ben was 5 and in the first grade. He was going to the school for the deaf that year and they picked him up early early in the morning in a van and dropped him off in the afternoon. I am avoiding the obvious comment about my brother riding the short bus.

The Friday before Christmas break the school for the deaf had a half day and they brought him home at lunch time. The only problem was that the school had failed to send notes home to let the parents know. Or perhaps they did and Ben lost the note on the bus. That part is unclear. What is clear is that the school bus driver dropped Ben off at the house and no one was home to let him in. Why the driver left a 5 year old and didn’t wait to see if he made it in the house will forever be a mystery.

Ever resourceful Ben walked down the block to the end of the street and knocked on the Carabajal’s door. Their daughter Rhiannon was Julie’s age and a sometime friend. He was pretty sure they would let him stay, or call his mom. Except they were not home either, so he walked back to our house at the top of the cul-de-sac and then all the way down the other side of the street to knock on the door of Julie’s other sometime friend January. No luck there either.
So he just went door to door knocking on all the houses until someone answered. Lucky for everyone it was a nice older couple a few doors down from the Carabajal’s. They did not know our family, but they knew the Carabajal’s and they had seen Ben playing in the neighborhood. They invited him in and gave him hot chocolate and let him watch TV. They were getting ready to leave town to go and visit their family. They tried calling my Dad at work, but as there are two Dr. Jerry Kinkades in the phonebook in Santa Fe, they of course got the answering service of the wrong one.

They must have missed seeing me walk up the street when I got home from school. When Rebecca, Ben’s mom got home they walked him up the street to the house and explained what happened. When I tell this story I always think how scary it must have been for Ben, it was December in New Mexico, and cold, and his mom was not home to let him in, and she was ALWAYS there when he got home. Except that if you know my brother, he pretty much takes everything in stride. I think here is this poor cold 5 year old desperately knocking on doors trying to get someone to take him in. But when he tells the story it is more of an adventure, the first time he was on his own against the world. I suspect his plan was if no one let him in he was going to build a shelter in the backyard and maybe rub two sticks together to start a fire.

And a Partridge in a Pear Tree

Christmas Eve 2007 my family had been asked to light the advent candles for Christmas Eve Service and Kat had been asked to read the scripture. Since Christmas Eve fell on a weekday that year I had to work that morning. The plan was I would meet Kat and the family at church around 5pm.

When I left for work Kathleen already did not have a voice. So I was planning on pitch hitting the reading for her and she and the boys could light candles. Midmorning I got a text from Kat that Matthew did not feel so great and she was concerned about him being sick. We agreed to watch and see.

By 3pm he was full on sick and Paul was starting to feel puny as well. I called Kristin Rogers the childrens minister at the church and asked “what do I have to do to get my family off the hook for tonight?” because it was looking like I was going to be there by myself. She suggested I ask my in-laws to stand in for us since they were already participating in the service. Which of course they did.

When I got home both boys were bundled up and looking sick as they lay on the couches in the living room. Clearly this was not going to be our traditional Christmas eve. Matthew fell asleep around 6pm and was fast and hard asleep. I carried him to his room and put him to bed. Paul was feverish on the couch but not sleepy. We turned off the lights and watched Christmas in Connecticut on the TV. When the movie was ¾ the way over it started. The vomiting. And not just a little bit, or the running to the bathroom with his hands over his mouth kind either. I am talking full on projectile vomiting in vivid color. Let me say both of my boys usually are pretty good if they have to throw up. They are minimal mess, very little drama. But not this night. From the couch to half way across the living room rug.

So being the good papa I am, I cleaned the mess and got him comfortable again, and put the TV on Unaccompanied minors. Pretty soon he was sound asleep. Then Matthew woke up after a 5 hour nap. He was hungry so Kat made him some noodle soup and he watched the movie for a while with us. Then he took his turn with the scary vomiting. All over the couch, his Christmas pajamas and his mother. Did I mention that Kat really really hates the sight and smell of vomit?

So I cleaned up from that too. Finally we got him settled and he watched the rest of the movie and fell back to sleep on the couch. When you look at pictures of the boys on Christmas morning it is pathetic, they look awful. I told Kat that it would always be remembered as the year of projectile vomiting.

But lo and behold, when you ask the boys about Christmas Eve, they almost always say “remember the year we stayed home and watched movies and just had soup? That was a good time!”

My response to that is “who knew?” Kat just shakes her head, gives that look and says “BOYS!”