My Christmas Story for 2025

From last Saturday's walk at Belmar Park and coffee at Panera.

So, 2025 has been a year of political T-shirts for me. Some witty, some colorful, some snarky. And December has been the month of the mother-of-all-colds. Last Saturday was my first opportunity in December to get out of the house, walk in a beautiful park, and go to coffee with friends. 

And it is the Christmas Season, a time to celebrate Peace and Good Will toward my fellow human beings. To be honest, I haven't really been "feelin' it" this year. 

My daughter believes in "dressing for joy." And how more joyful could I get than my Christmas Elf T-shirt?!

There were only two of us, Marchelle and me, from our regular walking group that day. The Saturday before Christmas, when traditional Christmas shoppers were doing their final major run before the big day? Really? Really. 

That was okay. I couldn't really do a whole, serious walk after being housebound for three weeks anyway, but we walked down to the lake and checked out which birds were still in town. It's been unusualy warm, so a surprising number are still here. 

We arrived at Panera for coffee just as Santa and a police officer got there. Not together, of course.

"Boss," I called out to Santa. And he held the door for us. It turns out that Santa, when in his plain persona, is John, one of the managers at Panera. My friend Marchelle took these pictures.

After Santa took my order, he explained that they were treating a child and his family to a meal, a visit with Santa and with a real police officer, because the boy really likes the police.

We couldn't see the festivities because we were at a table toward the back of the restaurant. As we were leaving, the family had just finished their meal, the young man had opened his gifts and was getting ready to examine a real police car. 

We don't know how old the young man is. We guessed maybe nine or ten. And he has Downs Syndrome.

I introduced myself to him as The Number One Elf. Without missing a beat, he confidently extended his hand for a firm handshake and very seriously said "Good Job." He graciously accepted my "Thank you," and went with the Lakewood Police Officer to examine the police car. Not a plain Shamu cruiser, but the bigger, police SUV.

And just like that, I've been feeling like it really is Christmas!

The moral of this story is "dress for joy and you, too, may just find yourself in your very own Christmas Story."

Happy Christmas and Peace to all.

 

K is for Kindness and L is for Love


     When you've been with someone for a long time, you begin to appreciate Kindness and know Love.
     Passion and Desire no longer color and cover everything. You begin to realize that he's never going to eat spaghetti. And he begins to accept that you are going to be a little late. The truth is no matter what he says or how loud he says it, you're still going to vote for that idiot. And no matter how reasonable you are he's still going to vote for anybody else.
     Then you have a weekend like we just had.
     Tuesday is the deadline for filing income tax returns in the United States, which is where we live. So last Friday, I loaded the software for this year and started ours. He kissed me and left the room. He did not ask what we were having for lunch or when. I guess he fixed his own lunch and ate when he wanted to. He didn't ask about dinner either. In fact, he didn't bother me about anything until after he signed the State Income Tax forms.
     Sunday he discovered that his aquarium had sprung a leak. His big aquarium. The one with the special fish, the particular gravel, the just-so acidic water, special snail shells sans snails, and the little rocks hand-glued to a plastic grid for a background. That one.
     Now my man is a quiet man. Out in public. And most of the time in private. But when things go wrong at home, it's easy to remember that his favorite movie -- well other than The Blues Brothers which he insists is not a musical -- is Christmas Story. And not because he relates with Ralphie, but because he admires the way the father does battle with their furnace and the Bumpus hounds.
     So, understanding the gravity of the aquarium situation, I made a one-time offer of help. He replied, "No." And I left the room.
     I stayed away until he asked me to come see how his second largest aquarium looked with its new residents. And we agreed that it was lucky he hadn't repopulated it. (It's been sitting and bubbling, all the while bereft of fish, for several months now.)
     The moral of this story is that sometimes leaving someone alone is a great Kindness and knowing when to do that is Love.