Away In the Manger......That I Helped Build....

{Editorial Note: This piece was originally published on MySpace 12-25-2007, but bears re-running for the Season, if not becoming an all-out annual trdition.}  

Of all the many, many wonderful things about the Christmas Season, you just can't beat going back to the "source material" as it were, for the absolute best in the warm-fuzzy department.  {Well, DUH - that's what it's supposed to be all about, innit?}

Welcome, one and all, to my first-ever Christmas Blog.  Today's tale is about my most cherished of all Christmas memories; helping my Father build -  from scratch - a full-on Manger / Nativity Scene {small diorama, in reality}.

I was eighteen at the time; freshly graduated from "high screwel," and four months into my professional musical career.  In the late spring of that year, Dad began drawing up preliminary sketches for a new "project" he wanted to try.  My Dad, an architect by profession, was also a journeyman scholar of both the Bible and ancient architecture.  As a youth, I remember him always complaining about how our original Manger looked {it was an "A-Frame" design}.  He'd always grumble "It looks like a Swiss ski chalet, not a Manger!!!"

After many years of this, he apparently got fed up enough to sit down and design "a Manger that looks like a Manger" himself.  He worked on the plans for about two months, then just after graduation he collared me and said "Chris, we're going to have a great Christmas this year - you're going to help me build our new Manger!"  I was a bit reluctant at first - I was then at a three regular gig-per-week mark for the very first time in my life, but I'd already spent plenty of "quality time" with Dad as we built our model railroad together {along with my brother, until he moved out on his own}, so I soon warmed up to the idea.

Once I saw Dad's full plans, I was stunned - he wanted a near-museum quality diorama, instead of the simple building I was expecting to see plans for.  I vividly remember Dad explaining his ideas in detail; what materials we could use, basic construction techniques, how we could light it, etc.  Our years working on the model railroad together had bonded us pretty tight, and Dad was already wise in how to get me excited early on, which always inspired bursts of creativity on my part, which he got quite a kick out of . Even though I wasn't "following in his footsteps" by vocation, he knew that I got my creativity from him anyway, and he was content to let me have free reign, which I'll alwys deeply respect and Love him for.

In reality, Dad knew that if he let me run amok as was/is my wont, some pretty good ideas would emerge.  We got the basic construction finished fairly quickly - a simple plywood design {base and building}.  Even less time was spent on wiring it for lights - two days, as I recall.  Our greatest time was spent in the details - covering the basic structure with it's "proto-Adobe" finish; Dad hand-carving AND "aging" each individual fence post and rail, finding the best looking places for the "boulders" and sparse vegetation; carefully putting hoof prints in the sand, using the actual camels in the scene to "make" the prints for authenticity, etc.

My main contribution came in the Manger's covering and final finish.  Dad wanted a contrasting look betwen the sand-impregnated mud of the building, and the naturally sandy ground.  We tried all kinds of different sand mixtures, using every size we could find, but nothing looked right to either of us.  One evening Dad accidentally dropped a used Mr. Coffee filter on the counter, spilling it's still-wet contents all over.  When I heard him swearing like the Sailor he was in WWII, I went to look, and was startled by what I saw.

"Dad, if we dried out the coffee grounds, and mixed them with the sand, would that give the Manger 'the' look?"  He slowly turned to stare at me, slack-jawed.  "Where in the Hell did you get THAT brilliant idea from?"

"Oh, a certain KLUTZ I know........."

Both Dad and I were blown away by how good the coffee-sand mixture looked - Dad even approved of my painting efforts.  I painted it in differing shades all over, working from darkest to lightest, in separate layers, thus "aging" it gradually, just as Nature does.  Dad was quick to spot my two "in-jokes" right off - tiny spots that I deliberately avoided painting, letting the natural coffee ground color show clearly.

Once the building and landscaping were done, the next problem arose - hay for the interior {well, a manger IS nothing more than a barn/stable, in reality}.   My notion was instant - "Grass, Dad - dried grass." {No, no, no - not THAT type of grass......}  I had just cut our lawn, so I went out in the front yard, and picked up a handful of fresh thatch.  Dad looked at it and said, "No, that won't work, that's Bluegrass - blade's way too wide.  The Baby Jesus will look like he's lying on a bed of palm fronds!  Try the back yard, Chris."

I did, and Dad was happy - "That's more like it - Fescue is just the ticket!  Good job!"  As we neared the finish line, Dad and I both started getting pretty excited; the project looked good from all angles, and when my brother's beautifully hand-painted figures arrived in the mail, we had a small "Christmas in late August" ceremony for the official unveiling.  We patiently waited until it got dark, then we plugged our new Manger in.

My Mom, Dad and I all gasped in unison - it looked SO pretty.  We marvelled at how Dad's simple, but incredibly effective lighting {using only a single bulb, BTW} washed the scene in a way that enhanced textures, color, and ambience alike.  Dad wasn't totally happy, though.  "It's too bright - who ever saw a Manger lit up like a 1950's diner?"  The tone in his voice triggered what I can only describe as a truly "miraculous" inspiration in my head.

"Dad, what about an orange bulb, would that work?"  Again slack-jawed {but smiling ear-to-ear}, Dad went to the storeroom, found the Christmas lights, and shortly the Manger was bathed in the warm glow you see here.  The effect was as dazzling as before, just tastefully muted, somewhat.  NOW it looked like the Nativity Dad had envisioned from the start.

We did indeed have a Magical Christmas that year; despite all the hassles we faced {and overcame} during construction, my Dad and I set the Adult Seal on our mutal bond that summer - and it only got better with age.  The Nativity itself has been in regular use since then.  Now that Dad's gone, it has become my most precious link to him, a symbol of both the Love for the Season in general, the Love for Jesus in particular - and my own specific Love for my Dad.

On this Day, two Millenia-plus odd back, a small Boy was born in a barn, and they Loved Him.  Nineteen hundred and eighty-six years later, that same Boy was re-born in a custom-designed and totally hand-made environment - by another not-quite-so-small Boy and his Dad, who also Loved Him {and each other}.

What finer Gift For a King, eh?

I'm sure that when Dad sees this post, he'll too be smiling..................................................

Just like a kid on Christmas Morning, dig?!!!!!

Merriest of Christmases, and the Happiest of New Years', my Friends - I  Love you all too, y'know..............

Infamy

Seventy years ago today, America stood strong in the face of incredible adversity, and never once blinked.  Socialism and Fascism were wreaking havoc all across Europe and near-East Asia, but it was Imperial Japan's deadly sneak-attack on Pearl Harbor on this date in 1941 that brought us fully into World War II.  Some 2400+ were killed in the dastardly attacks, but American Resolve had been awakened, and would ultimately pass this test with flying colors.  


Just over three and a half years later, we repaid Japan's aggression 100 times over, when the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki brought the war to a speedy end.


Myself, I can't imagine the horror my parents and grandparents must have felt that Sunday morning so long ago.  Well, perhaps I can, what with the 9/11 attacks ten years ago.  Although American Resolve was awakened once again, the aftermath of 9/11 is to this day too bitterly entangled with left-wing politics to merit much comparison with the fallout from Pearl.

And of course it's a far different world today than it was 70 years ago.  Today, if the Muslim Brotherhood was able to mount a threat on a par with Nazi Germany, or the Imperial Empire of Japan, I rather doubt we could respond with the same alacrity and might the Greatest Generation was able to muster.  For one thing, we don't have half the manufacturing capability they had in 1941, any more.  For another, our national finances are in shambles, thanks to the Congressional / Wall Street money-orgies of the last 20 years.

About the only thing that aligns the two times on the same plane is our Resolve - which comes directly from the staunch service provided by our Military.  It's a pity that left-wing politics and "social engineering" has even permeated the Military, but such is our Brave New World.  Ironically, this was foreseen by two of the greatest Generals of WWII - Patton and Eisenhower.  


Patton saw how rotten politics would allow the Communists to run rampant, which they did for 40 years {there would have been no Korean or Vietnamese wars, Cuba's rise to prominence, or much of the Middle Eastern conflicts post-1947, had anyone paid attention}.  Eisenhower warned against a huge military-industrial complex, or the "commercialization" of warfare - which has made it easy for even the most tin-horn of terrorists to make jihad, or whatever, thanks to the bloated worldwide supplies of ordnance and associated materiel.  Both men felt that politics should be ceremonial only, after the fact of war; not during, or because of it.  


And history has proven both right, time and time again in the last 60 years.


However, all of this was still in the future on that awful Sabbath three-score and ten years ago today, when the Arizona pictured above met its' tragic end on the floor of that rather pretty harbor on Oahu.  The War that ensued touched virtually all of our family's lives one way or another, and the aftereffects are still being felt to this day.  My Dad and four Uncles all served, covering both Theaters, and every branch of the Military.  Only one Uncle was in service prior to Pearl - and he was fortunate to be on a carrier that day, instead of his customary battleship.  He never forgot that small quirk of Fate, nor did the rest of the family.

As for the rest of us though, we should never forget 12/7/1941, either.  It's still affecting all of us.

And it's still the Day of INFAMY.