Month: December 2022

I did not know him. I had never even heard of him before the tragedy. Now his story haunts me. I have sobbed upon hearing what happened to him and to his family.  Somehow I have not been able to get him out of my mind. 

He was a brilliant young student who was also known for his generosity and friendliness. He was gifted in so many ways, a light in the world with a future that  seemed to be so bright. He won a full ride scholarship to Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine, one of only five hundred students chosen to be a member of the Class of 2026 at the prestigious school. He was already well versed in the workings of computers and became known as someone who would help his fellow classmates if they encountered difficulties with the coursework. It seemed that everyone he met was drawn to him. 

His parents were refugees from Somalia who were incredibly proud of their gifted son. He had taken full advantage of educational opportunities, joining his high school robotics team and leading them to championships. His interest in computer science grew during his high school years and he seemed destined to do great things in college and later in life. 

On December 3, he attended a student event at his Bowdoin. There were snacks which he enjoyed along with the friends that he had already made. Suddenly he felt his throat begin to swell and realized that something he had eaten must have had traces of nuts to which he was highly allergic. He excused himself and rushed to his dorm to retrieve his epipen. That’s when things went crazy. 

Whether or not he actually had time to use the epipen is not confirmed but he did reach out to his Resident Assistant in the dorm as his breathing became more and more difficult. They decided that driving to the hospital might be quicker than calling an ambulance and headed out in search of help. Along the way he was struggling so much that they called 911 and were met on the road by paramedics. The crew began to administer aide in route to the hospital but their efforts were all in vain. The brilliant young student died. 

My granddaughter and the entire campus of only two thousand young men and women immediately went into a state of profound grief. In a place where everyone seemed to know everyone else word of his death spread rapidly. My granddaughter was so upset that she called her mother sobbing and barely able to speak coherently. She and her roommates had to comfort each other as they all wondered how such an horrific thing might have happened so close to the end of the semester and the holiday season. They shared stories of how wonderful their fellow student had been.

The university offered counseling to those who needed it. They brought in furry animals to to calm the students and the teachers. The young man’s roommate was an emotional wreck as were those who had become close to him. His parents were shocked and devastated. The students and teachers at his former high school fell apart. He was beloved by so many people, a person who was filled with goodness and promise. It felt unreal to think that  consuming a little snack could be so lethal. 

We sometimes hear people poking fun at the notion of those who have allergies to nuts or eggs or gluten. They act as though the very idea of an inability to process certain foods without harm is a sign of weakness or overreaction. They scoff at the reality that such things can literally kill a person. Danger is ever present for them often from the time of their childhood. These souls travel through life assessing whether or not the things they consume will hurt them. Often there is little sign that the toxic elements are even present in the food that they eat. Just a few crumbs mixing in can create a storm of reactions in them and yet the reaction to their needs is all too often negative rather than compassionate. 

While this young man’s story seems to be an extreme, the dangers for those with severe allergies must be taken quite seriously and without judgement. I doubt that whoever prepared the food that sent him into a medical emergency ever thought of the consequences of serving something with nuts. They may not have even realized that nuts were part of the ingredients. It seems so bizarre that just eating something that is okay for the rest of us might lead to hospitalization or death. It’s something that we all need to take into account whenever we share food.

I once taught a student whose reaction to gluten was so severe that if she picked up even a crumb from regular bread she would become seriously ill. She missed many days of school because of her condition. She was abnormally thin because her body was unable to process much of what she age. Her eyes were sunken and surrounded by dark circles and yet there were teachers who believed that she and her parents were overreacting. They had little sympathy for her situation.  

I have been unable to get the incident of the Bowdoin student’s death out of my mind. I keep thinking of how broken his family must be. None of us send our children out into the world believing that we will lose them. I’m sure his parents believed that he would be safe in a school that provides so much nurturing attention to its students. It is a tragedy that someone who might have changed the world with his brilliance has been taken far too soon. My heart aches for everyone who is grieving for him. 

We will all be serving snacks and foods this holiday season. Take the time to be aware of the many different needs that people have. Be careful in planning menus and be certain to include a variety that takes allergies and preferences into account. Be kind when considering how difficult it must be for those whose bodies reject certain foods that are toxins to them. Nothing about such conditions is a sign of weakness or the stuff of jokes. In the worst case scenario a tiny bit of the wrong food can sometimes kill. 

Power shopping was a social sport for me and my mom. We were not necessarily intent on purchasing anything. Rather we were determined to walk and talk for hours while in search of  ultimate bargains. I loved being with her as we sauntered up and down every aisle in a Macy’s or Walmart or even a Dollar Tree. Finding good deals was like unearthing a treasure for us, but mostly it was a fun way just to be together. 

The only other person I have ever found able to match my mother’s stamina and enthusiasm for shopping was my dear friend, Pat Weimer. She was a gold medal champion of endurance, able to spend entire days on her feet checking out stores with precision. She had an eye for finding just the right item for anyone on her list, but she was always careful to compare prices and be certain that she had found the best possible deal. 

One of Pat’s favorite times to check out stores was on Christmas Eve when everyone was exhausted from Christmas shopping’ Only a few desperate men were roaming the aisles on the day before Christmas hoping to find a last minute gift in stores that appeared to have been decimated by a riot. That’s when Pat often found hidden jewels that were all but free as merchants attempted to move out the holiday inventory to make way for the next season. Sometimes she would call me and ask me to accompany her on her treasure hunt and I almost always felt intrigued enough to go along. 

My friend Cappy was, and still is, the thrift store queen. She has found the most remarkable items at second hand stores. She trolls certain places on a regular basis and has no hesitation to dive into a pile of seeming junk. When she still lived nearby we would begin our shopping days early in the morning to beat the crowds. She had certain favorite shops that determined the route that we took. She always brought along wipes to clean our hands and bottled water to keep us hydrated. When our conversation stalled to one word grunts she knew that it was time to refuel with lunch for which she always had some kind of discount coupon. I still smile when I think of the marathons we ran through charity guild shops and mega thrift locations. 

Those were the days! Shopping was a social occasion and a competitive sport all in one grand event. It was a way to laugh and tell stories without ever actually having to spend a dime. It was our excuse for being together. Sometimes we even managed to find a treasure that would become a cherished addition to our homes or our closets. I loved those days mostly because I loved being with those women. 

Now two of them have died and one lives over a thousand miles away. I don’t spend much time shopping anymore because it just isn’t fun when I am alone. I’d rather find what I need online and have it delivered to my home. Wandering around a store without a beloved companion holds no joy for me and taking my husband makes it even worse. He is one of those people who grows impatient with browsing. He knows what he wants when he walks into a store and homes in on the product with precision. The less time he spends hunting for his intended purchase the happier he is. Shopping with him is a sprint rather than a marathon. To him it’s a heinous job, not a form of entertainment.

Most people these days are not particularly enamored with the idea of day long shopping trips. It’s almost impossible to find anyone with enough desire and stamina to spend hours perusing wares. Everyone is either very busy or uninterested in devoting so much time to a seemingly trivial pursuit. I have resigned myself to surfing the Internet alone to find the things that I need. The process is lacking in social merit but I’ve adjusted to the new ways while sometimes longing for the days of old with my olympic worthy shopping mother and friends. 

This morning I saw a photo of someone that I know embarking on power shopping with her mother at an outlet mall. It made me remember those days with mama or Pat or Cappy. I got a warm and gooey feeling all over as I smiled at the thought of memories of our crazy times together. I’d love nothing more than to enjoy one more day of shopping with any of them. We would not have to purchase a thing but we would surely solve the problems of the world as we sauntered along every aisle examining the quality of wares like the traders of old. 

One of the places that my mother enjoyed the most was the Macy’s at Almeda Mall. After she had died it was damaged in a hurricane and I thought it was doomed to be closed forever. Then one day I received a notice that it was opening again. I went to the gala and sobbed tears of joy as I remembered the many times that Mama and I had roamed from one department to another. I had such a warm feeling being back inside and I still feel that way anytime I go there. Somehow my mother’s spirit seems to still be there and I feel such happiness remembering how much fun we had there. Those were the days!

On Christmas Day someone will be born. On Christmas Day someone will die. On Christmas Day someone will be happy. On Christmas Day someone will be depressed. On Christmas Day someone will want for nothing. On Christmas Day someone will hunger for food and a home. On Christmas Day someone will find peace. On Christmas Day someone will experience war. 

We spend much of December, and even November these days, preparing for a celebration of the season with family and friends, often forgetting that on this most happy day there will always be people who are suffering for one reason or another. Christmas as we know it in the modern world often strays away from the reason of the season with its conspicuous consumption of food, drink and material riches.

There is nothing terribly wrong with treating ourselves and those we love to feasts and gifts, but when we lose sight of why we have such a holiday to begin with, our efforts feel somewhat out of sync, devoid of a true kind of joy. Like Sparky Griswold we focus on all the wrong things to make our Christmases bright. Love is what should be our focus, love with a kind heart and compassion and sharing. 

Not everyone is religious or even of the same religious beliefs. We each find spiritual nourishment in very personal ways. Some don’t even need a church or particular beliefs to feel a connection to something bigger than themselves. Each of us require ways of explaining the world and the things that seem to so serendipitously happen to us. Our human need is to know the why of the events and stories that make up the sum total of our lives. 

The greatest percent of religious believers are followers of Christianity. They believe that Jesus was sent to the world by God as a savior for all of us. We don’t know the exact date on which he was born nor do we have photographs or paintings of him that were made while he was alive. What we do have are the gospels that tell his stories and report his preaching, which is a beautiful way of living even if one does not believe that He was the son of God. He gave the world a blueprint of how to treat one another with both His words and His example. It’s easy to follow because it always focuses on love. His only commandment is that we love one another as deeply as we would love ourselves. 

His is a beautiful philosophy, but not nearly as easy to follow as it may at first seem. Each of us is imperfect. We may have the best of intentions, but end up getting angry, hurting someone with our words or even with violence. We become jealous and selfish even as we try so very hard to be the best versions of ourselves. When we walk past a fellow human whom Jesus would have helped, we know that Jesus is willing to forgive us for our many sins against humanity. As long as we are genuinely contrite and willing to begin anew to be the people that He knows we can and should be we can find reconciliation.

The words of Jesus and his parables do not require that we follow sets of rules created by humans attempting to interpret His instructions for us. In fact, the evidence in the gospels is that Jesus revolted against any laws that restricted our ability to help the sick, the poor, the suffering. It is humans who dictate behaviors that restrict our us from being just and fair and kind. Jesus did not judge as much as He simply loved. Over and over again he ignored laws that might have prevented Him from saving someone in need. 

I think that even non-Christians and those who scoff at the idea of God, should read about this Jesus who really did live and walk on this earth. Everyone should learn from him. No church is required to emulate Him or to celebrate His teachings. If we focus on trying to be more like Him during these holidays, I think we might feel a calm and brightness about ourselves and the future that quenches our thirst to understand why we are here. 

A friend recently related an incident that occurred on a day when her throat was scratchy and things were not going very well. She ordered take out pizza for dinner and scurried to pick it up as soon as she got a notice on her phone that it was ready. When she arrived the place was in a state of chaos and her pizza was not yet prepared. She felt like complaining but something inside her heart told her to be kind. She thought of how this is a busy season, a time when things can go wrong even with the best of plans. Instead of fussing at the woman who gave her the bad news that she would have to wait, she smiled and demonstrated patience. It was then that the woman revealed that the place had just been robbed and that everyone was quite shaken. She thanked my friend for being so understanding. 

We have no idea what anyone is facing during the Christmas holidays or at any time for that matter. We would do well to be at our best, to demonstrate compassion and kindness. Our holidays will be so much better when we slow down enough to simply love the people around us with all of our hearts. That is what the life of Jesus was all about and what he wants our lives to be about as well. Whether you call in Christmas or the holidays it all about love actually.

I suppose that I am an enigma while also being easy to read. I’m very much a “what you see is what you get” kind of person and yet some people don’t quite understand my thinking. I am a bundle of contradictions in many ways. I abhor the idea of adhering to a rigid daily schedule, but I have an ironclad faithfulness to certain traditions. I’m quite sentimental about memories from the past while insisting that change is not just inevitable, but actually quite good. I eat exactly the same thing every single morning except on Sundays when my husband cooks an elaborate breakfast, but I enjoy variety in everything else. I like getting up early in the morning so that I can be alone as the day begins, but revel in visiting and talking with friends in the afternoon. 

I’ve taken tests that indicate that neither my right nor my left brain is dominant. I enjoy teaching mathematics but my true love is writing. I’m a people person who mostly likes to observe the passing parade rather than being part of it. I’m a quiet person who will talk your ear off if given the opportunity. I enjoy traveling, but I always hesitate to leave home each time I embark on a trip. I might easily evolve into a hermit, but sooner or later I would need to get out and be among people.

I’m a very spiritual person who prays throughout the day, but my words for God are mostly conversational. I find comfort in having an internal relationship with God rather than praying in a formal religious setting. I’m a Catholic, but have many questions about most organized religions including my own. My God is very personal and comforting and kind and wise. There is only love in the God that I know, forgiveness rather than righteousness and smiting. 

I suppose that in truth I’m much like anyone. Perhaps I question things a bit more than some people like. It is in my nature. I am adamantly faithful and loyal to family and friends, but not to any particular political group. I love my country, but see no problem in pointing out its flaws. In fact I have a tendency to see difficulties in almost all organizations created by humans. Nothing is perfect. Everything needs a bit of tweaking now and then to remain relevant and fair. 

At Christmas time I become childlike even as I pride myself on being the adult in the room. I love the lights, the music, the movies, the parties, the gifts, the food. I am my happiest in December while also thinking of the people all over the world who are suffering even as I am experiencing so much joy. I have moments of great sorrow as I think of them, those engaged in war, those fighting for freedom, those who are sick and dying, those who are hungry and homeless. I want to help them all even knowing that my reach is so small compared to the needs. I cry a bit inside even as I smile and celebrate. 

The ghosts of Christmases past, present and future are more with me these days than ever before. I am reminded each year of those who gave me so much joy who are no longer here and those who are new to my world as well as those who may one day be. I find myself realizing how important it is to celebrate each moment with gusto because I have no idea when my expiration date will come. I’ve met for decades with my church lady friends, a group that was once five strong that has dwindled down to two. I always enjoyed time with dear friends who are no more. I’ve become the matriarch of my family, a role that has yet to feel comfortable as I long for my mother and mother-in-law more at Christmastime than any other time of year. I feel joy in the moment nonetheless. I have learned to seize each day and find a way to smile no matter what may happen.

My energy is not what it used to be, but it is still enough to keep me going. I’ve learned to pace myself rather than behaving like a whirling dervish. It takes me longer to accomplish my Christmas rituals and I have set aside some that did not matter as much to me. I still send old school Christmas cards through the mail. I enjoy greeting my friends and family and cherish the cards that come in return, but I don’t mind that this old tradition is not as much in favor as it once was. Trends come and go and I have no problem with that. I try to stay modern while holding on to the things I enjoy.

I am approaching my seventy fifth New Year. My first one came when I was not quite two months old. I don’t recall much about that one but the rest have seemed to come with greater and greater speed of late. I don’t make many resolutions anymore. I just take things as they come hoping that I and my family will stay healthy and happy. I have learned that there will be surprises, some wonderful and some difficult to handle. I carry on just as I always have, a complicated yet quite simple person. So here we go with Christmas and a New Year on the horizon once again. May the holidays be merry and bright and may those who are suffering find comfort. Hopefully I’ll keep tapping away on my laptop sending you my thoughts and my stories for much more time to come.

I now have five Christmas trees in my home. They hold the sum total of the ornaments that I have collected over the years. I still use the inexpensive glass globes that my husband and I purchased to brighten the first tree that we bought together after we were married. Since then I’ve added ornament after ornament from gifts, travels, ornament exchanges, craft projects, collections and Hallmark. The decorations fill eight boxes and the branches of the trees of various sizes. 

The front room where I compose my blogs hosts the travel tree. I make it a point to purchase an ornament wherever I visit. I have a good story for every tiny treasure that hangs on the branches of a tree that has seen better years but still does the job of displaying my pretties quite nicely. Sometimes I think it may be my favorite because vacations are always filled with joy and adventure. Seeing other places and learning about other people is fascinating and eye opening.

Then there is my collection tree which holds elegant ornaments of greater expense that I purchased one at a time over a series of decades. Some of them were also gifts from friends that marked special occasions.These delicate treasures hang on a tinier tree that fits snugly into the corner of my dining room. They are as lovely as the china that once belonged to my mother which is on display near them. The tree I place them on lost its lights years ago so I have to place strings of illumination in the old fashioned way. Until the ornaments are hanging it is a sad little sight indeed but the finished product is a glorious transformation. In the midst of all the beauty there is a strange little ornament that may seem out of place. It is a plastic angel that was once sprayed with silver paint that has mostly worn away. It is not particularly nice in any sense, but it is one of my favorites because it once hung from my Grandma Ulrich’s tree each Christmas Eve. After she died I saw it tossed aside with things that nobody wanted and I saved it to sit in glory surrounded by new loveliness each year.

I placed another tree atop a table so that it shines forth from my upstairs window. I call it my Charlie Brown Tree. It is was on sale one year and once had lots of shiny lights, but now it too requires old fashioned strings put on by hand to be illuminated. The ornaments that adorn it are old and unmatched and sometimes seem to be someone’s cast offs, but they too have lovely stories. Some are made from the hands of children, both my daughters and my former students. Some are a bit broken but I have repaired them. Altogether they brighten the window and the room. They often make me smile because like all of the other ornaments they have special stories that would fill a book. 

This year I added a tiny “pig tree” to hold all of the “lucky pigs” that I have collected since 2005. I learned on a trip to Austria that pigs are considered to bring good luck in the New Year so I began to find and purchase little piggies of every sort wherever I went. At first I stored them in displays around my home but I grew weary of the clutter so I transformed them all into ornaments and gave them a spot on my desk with a tiny tree dedicated on to them. It is absolutely precious and I’m delighted with how happy it makes me feel.

The big tree in my great room is the one I designed for my grandchildren. It holds countless Hallmark ornaments that whiz and whir and makes sounds. It features photos of family members and friends. There are odes to Harry Potter, Mickey Mouse and Snoopy. It glitters with crystal snowflakes from Swarovski and holds favorite surprises like a homemade ornament with photos of a dear friend’s children and one of our departed pets, Red. It’s a fun tree while also being the most beautiful of them all. It entertains us with a Harry Potter sorting hat and songs from DisneyWorld. My grandchildren are older now, but they still come in to inspect the old ornaments and search for the new ones. This year I’ve added Oscar the Grouch for the first time and found that I just can’t seem to get enough of Snoopy or Mickey. 

It takes days to erect and decorate all of the trees but I’ve learned to start early and pace myself so that I don’t get exhausted. Nobody would be stunned by the beauty of my trees but they represent a physical story of my life, a tangible way of knowing about my family and its personality. 

I have to admit that my favorite ornaments are the ones that are homemade along with that plastic angel that once belonged to my grandmother. I have a sentimental cry every single year when I place them on one of my trees. I love the deeply wonderful memories associated with them. My Christmas trees make me happy because they “talk” to me about my many blessings over the years. I could gaze at them forever.