I'll Say She Is!

I finally found the perfect girl,

I couldn’t ask for more.

She’s deaf and dumb and oversexed

And owns a liquor store……..

Shakespeare, page 39!! {And fifty bonus points if ya can tell me where I got the title of this post from.}

{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 presently; there is MUCH good news to share.  Please keep your seats, Boys & Girls!!}

Diamonds Are Forever

Seventy five years after The Day Of Infamy, there still isn't a better tribute to all the war-dead {IMHO}, than the Arizona Memorial, pictured above.

She still dribbles fuel oil on occasion - fuel oil that was one of the chief motivating factors of Japan's aggression towards us in the first place.  Our Pacific Fleet stood right in the way of Japan's territorial conquests, which were designed to acquire raw materials - like crude oil - for themselves, ending their dependence on others for the goods of war & Empire.  And had the whole fleet been in port at Pearl that fateful Sunday, the Japanese just might have succeeded in "chopping off the Eagle's beak."

As it was though, Hirohito's treachery merely "awakened the sleeping giant" - the war that ensued was lost practically at the outset, thanks to our Resolve, and industrial might.  That, and the ludicrous over-ambitions of our enemies sealed their fates, just as surely as Japanese torpedoes and bombs sealed the fates of the 1177 innocent, unsuspecting souls aboard the Arizona that horrible Sabbath seventy-five years ago.  Had we not been forced to fight a two-front war, it's interesting to speculate how quickly VJ-day might have come, if it were our sole objective.  Would the A-bomb have even been necessary, with the full strength of our military focused solely on the unconditional destruction of Tokyo?

We'll never know for sure, of course.  But looking at the hallowed remains of the Arizona today, one can still clearly hear the echoes of the awful bloodbath that was WWII, in our current political climate.  My generation sadly has a near-equivalent to Pearl with 9/11 - but our resolve has quite frankly "gone out to lunch" as of late, and don't even get me started about our current capacity to wage all-out war the way we did when my Dad and Mom were teenagers..........

May the Powers That Be see with wide-open eyes the lessons to learn from that terrible Sunday seventy-five years past, and may they learn them well - that would truly honor those who went down  with this brave, tragic dreadnought, may she and her crew Rest In Peace........................