A Blast From The Past: Christmas Snickerdoodle

'Twas the night after Christmas, and boy, what a house!
I felt like the devil, and so did my spouse.
The eggnog and turkey and candy were swell,
But ten hours later they sure gave me hell.

The stockings weren't hung by the chimney with care.
The darn things were sprawled on the back of a chair.
The children were nestled all snug in their bed,
And I had a large pack of ice on my head.

When at long last I dozed off in a nap,
The ice woke me up as it fell in my lap.
For some unknown reason I wanted a drink,
So I started in feeling my way to the sink.

I got along fine 'til I stepped on the cat.
I cannot recall what occurred after that.
When I came to, the house was all flooded with light,
Although under the table I was high as a kite.

While visions of sugar plums danced in my head,
I somehow got up and climbed back into bed.
Then what to my wandering mind should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

Then the sleigh seemed to change to a mammoth fire truck,
And each reindeer turned into a bleary-eyed buck.
I knew in a moment it must be old Nick.
I tried to cry out, but my tongue was too thick.

The old devil whistled and shouted with glee,
While each buck pawed the earth and looked daggers at me.
Then he called them by name and the names made me shudder.
When I heard them I felt like a ship minus the rudder.

"Now Eggnog! Bacardi! Four Roses! and Brandy!
Now Fruit Cake! Cold Turkey! Gin Rickey! and Candy!
To the top of his house, to the top of his skull,
Now whack away, crack it with thumps that are dull!"

And then in a twinkling I felt on my roof,
The prancing and pawing of each cloven hoof.
How long this went on I am sure I can't say,
Though it seemed an eternity plus a long day.

But finally the night after Christmas had passed,
And I found that I really could think straight at last.
So I thought of the New Year a few days away,
And I made me a vow that no tempter can sway.

I'm sticking to water, don't even want ice,
For there's nothing so tasty, or nothing so nice.
The night after New Year may bother some guys,
But I've learned my lesson, and brother, I'm wise.

You can have your rich food, and your liquor that's red,
But what goes to my stomach won't go to my head.
So here's "Happy New Year" to you one and all.
I'm back on the wagon, and I hope I don't fall.

{REBROADCAST} Away In The Manger That I Helped Build

{Editorial Note: This piece was originally published on MySpace 12-25-2007, and was always meant to be an annual tradition, before offline circumstances scotched the idea during 2008-2010.  Last year's re-post here revived the notion, and this year finally gives consecutive weight, as well as celebrating the 5th Anniversary of original publication.  A Good Blog is Worth Repeating Until the Cows Come Home!!  My own take on the whole "It's A Wonderful Life" mess, dig?}  

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..............

{Editorial Epilogue - all-new blogs will resume in a day or three; there is MUCH good news to share.  Please keep your seats, Boys & Girls!!}

The End????

Nope.
Not gonna happen.
Y2K, all over again.  Relax, Boys and Girls - haven't we all got enough REAL shit staring us in the face every day, to worry about Doomsday coming, or more likely NOT coming?

Wait a minute - what the hell was that??!!?!?


!seibaB  wolleF ,lla retfa gnorw saw I ekil skool ti - tihs ,hO
!!nekorb eb ot smees ygniht-bewediwretnI sihT


........ebyam ,yltrohs eroM


**}elkcuhC livE{**

Ain't No Cure For The Yuletide Blues

{Cue Mormon Tabernacle Choir}

Wreck the halls with Barry's Folly
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la, la 
It's Bush's fault, come on get jolly
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la, la
Don we now our alternative-lifestyle apparel
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la
As we sing this Hope-n-Change carol
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la

Burn the Constitution for us
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la
Tax the drums, and rape the chorus
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la
Fiscal cliff, so where's the pleasure
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la
Can not change such horrid measures
Fa-la-la-la-la, la, lah, laaah, laahhhhhhhhh..............

The Greatest Generation

Pearl Harbor; the treacherous incident that "awakened the sleeping Giant."  The "Giant" in question was of course the United States of America.  Our entry into WWII changed the world forever in many ways, both good and bad.

My parents were of the Greatest Generation, and taught both my brother and me innumerable lessons of great value; personal sacrifice and perseverance being the two most important.  Both have served me well to date, but both are played out against a world backdrop that's radically different than the world of the 1940's.  Looking at the Arizona Memorial above, my mind's eye superimposes the remains of the Twin Towers atop the sunken hull in Pearl Harbor; I can truly relate to what my parents endured, in other words.

I just wish today's generations would show a little more backbone when dealing with our modern problems; their inability or refusal to do so makes a mockery of that great sunken hull and all that it stands for.  Item: just as we entered WWII, the Greatest Generation faced a Moslem terrorist threat identical to today's climate, but they dealt with the problem swiftly and effectively, rounding up a bunch of known terrorists and executing all but two in the group.  The corpses were further degraded with gallons of pigs' blood, before the two survivors were released with a stern "this will happen to the rest of you lot if you don't get your shit together NOW."  It was a good 25 years before the Moslems felt bold enough to challenge the interdiction.

It bothers me no end that the US could hardly respond to a world conflagration today the way we did during the Greatest Generation's heyday immediately post-Pearl; we simply don't have the same manufacturing and/or military infrastructure now that we had then, let alone unanimous patriotism, passion for Liberty, personal fortitude, iron resolve, etc. etc. As such, a theoretical WWIII would not augur well for us, IMHO.  Oh, the situation can be corrected provided we have both the heavy patience and strong incentive to do what needs to be done {like the GG did}, but positive changes won't happen overnight; this isn't an "instant gratification" issue.  And I very much fear today's society is too far gone on said instant gratification.

The Greatest Generation wasn't like that at all - they achieved their goals the right way through hard work, fierce determination, a clear focus, and much personal sacrifice, including the Ultimate one.  After Pearl Harbor, they stoically endured both the Holocaust and the equally horrible dawn of the Nuclear age, drawing courage and incredible strength solely from their convictions, period.  And after WWII they labored for the rest of their days  to ensure that the hard lessons they learned would pass down to their offspring.  How ironic that the Holocaust has morphed into Constitutionally-protected genocide {30 million abortions annually}, and the nuclear threat has morphed into the more subtle but equally-devastating conditions implied by today's rampant political correctness / entitlement mentality.  

Was the Greatest Generation's hard work and true selflessness - symbolized by that sunken hull in a lovely Hawaiian Harbor - all in vain, in the long run?  The jury's still out, but I for one am not about to let the final answer be "yes," if there is any possible way I can help it.  It's the least I can do, given all that went before.

I Honor the Arizona every day of my life - how 'bout y'all?

More shortly............