"Happy New Year!!!

I enjoyed a warm and loving Christmas day. After being among friends at church, I went to Beth and Ed's home for a super dinner where Ed's mom and Robert were also guests. However, those of us who no longer share the excitement of the season with small children tend to become nostalgic. I think our most memorable family holiday season was the year at Big Bend, 50 miles out of Redding. Big Bend, at that time, consisted of a small grocery store, a school house, a bar and a community hall, all in the woods. I have no idea how many permanent residents there were as none of the homes were visible, but the fact that there were school children, largely Native American, was a clue that families were in the area. We lived in a community of about 50 trailers (not today's mobile homes) in a camp set up temporarily by P.G.&E during the construction of a powerhouse.

We had an 8' x 42' Spartan trailer...very deluxe for those days (1953). It had two bedrooms and accommodated George and me, "Grandma", my 83 year old mother, Beth, 2 1/2 and Suzie, age 1 (a "borrowed" baby we'd had from birth). As soon as we arrived, our nearest neighbor came to welcome us. She learned that my mom was a minister's widow, and I was immediately on my way to becoming the Sunday School Superintendent without having seen the "church" or the other parishioners having seen me.

Sunday School was held in the community hall: a building not much larger than most modest houses today. It was a log cabin with poorly chinked logs. We sat on backless wooden benches and soon learned to take a blanket if it was snowing. We needed to cover our laps because the snow blew in through the gaps in the chinks. The wood burning heater was made from two oil drums. It succeeded in heating the building. However, if you sat too close it lent credence to any "hellfire and damnation" message.

My church background was Methodist. The neighbor who recruited me was Presbyterian. She taught the littlest ones. A lady of Nazarene background taught the primary grades. The Juniors had a Baptist teacher. The adult class teacher was a member of the Disciples of Christ, but most of his religious training, before he "defected," had been in preparation for the Catholic priesthood. We had two good substitutes…a Mormon and a Christian Scientist. We used Assembly of God literature. I'm sure it had been selected for eye appeal rather than content. The illustrations were flamboyant. Later, a young Presbyterian missionary and family came to lead us. It was a totally ecumenical group and the most united, cooperative and enthusiastic group with which I ever worked.

That Christmas began when Beth and I, with our 19 yr. old neighbor and her two toddlers, ventured into the snowy woods to gather aromatic fir and pine boughs which we used for padding in the Christmas packages we shipped. Leigh was Beth's age and Katie a year younger. Jackie and I sang Christmas carols as we went, with the little ones chiming in on the ones they had learned.

On the next Sunday, after church, we took off in search of holly. One car carried Grandma in her eighties, George and I in our forties, Jackie and Don under twenty and the three little ones. We found the holly and also discovered gooseberry bushes. Later that week George and Beth went out to find and cut our Christmas tree. The tree they brought home wouldn't even go in the trailer. George insisted Beth had picked it and she was too small to defend herself. Fortunately, we had built a screened entry porch, and with considerable vertical trimming the tree did fit there.

We had an elaborate Sunday School program, actually the most successful I ever planned. We had angels flying from the ceiling and great costumes unbelievably assembled by these families so far from shopping and with limited storage space, but with great imaginations and ingenuity. I don't recall a single present, or the food, which both seem to be today's emphasis. But the rustic celebration with our neighbors, so recently strangers, made it truly a Christmas to remember.

Sometimes it is good to see ourselves as others see us. My Finnish friend, Anne (pronounced Ah'-nay) writes: "So you had a thanksgiving. The halloween is slowly getting a foot here in Finland too. The shops are full of masks and stuff, but people don't like the "trick or treat" thing at all. They thinks it just a nuisance and bad manners. It does not belong into our traditions at all."

Beth was shipping an oven part for repair and the shipping instructions read, "wrap in lawyers of bubble wrap." I'd never realized bubble wrap contained hot air.

I was introduced to a lady minister whose last name is Heck. When hearing a person's name for the first time, I try to form a mental picture or association which will enable me to remember the name. Unfortunately, my mind lept from "Heck" to "Hell." I feel this is an unfortunate association for me to have formed with this clerical lady, but I'm not sure I can erase it. My mother, who was as sweet and unworldly a person as I have ever met, would NEVER have uttered a curse word, but when truly annoyed, she would spit out "Oh, Sugar" with a vehemence equal to any swearing I ever heard. I'm sure she didn't realize how potentially shocking her choice of a word would be, had she drawn it out too long before she reached the last syllable.

Fraulein, my cat roommate, has an ongoing job training me. Currently, she is working on ways to get samples of the discount store cat food I feed the outdoor hoboes. Her own food is one recommended for diabetic cats, at four times the price, but does she appreciate that? Never. It's against cat principles. If she hears a few grains of the cheaper food spill, she is as happy as a kid who's just heard the music signaling the approach of the ice cream truck. It's necessary for her to eat at a specific time since her eating and her insulin shots have to be coordinated. Rarely does she show a lack of interest in food, but when that has happened, I just toss out some of the "common" food and she comes on the run. However, she soon figured out that it paid to be reluctant, so some of her lack of appetite is now staged. She reminds me of a rich kid raised on filet mignon and truffles who envies his friend who lives across the tracks, and whose mom makes great pancakes and spaghetti. Mmmmm!

Since so much of the holiday celebration seems to center around food (and then centers around my middle) it seems appropriate to include some food memories from past (far past) 2nd Winds:

Susan began her career as a trainee secretary in the wholesale business we sold when we retired. She has been the office manager ever since. Susan is Mexican. Her husband, Warren, is African American. They are both college grads and both people we enjoyed. They were reminiscing about Susan's first attempt to fix a special meal for Warren. She had grown up with totally Mexican cuisine. Warren had, no doubt wistfully, mentioned ham and sweet potatoes, so she decided to surprise him with a treat. Warren complimented the finished production and Susan was so proud. Later...much later...he diplomatically told her that sweet potatoes weren't mashed potatoes with brown sugar added.

That reminds me of Nyla's first raisin pie. It was WWII and she was far from home with her young military officer husband: also far from motherly advice. Jerry had mentioned that raisin pie was his favorite, and how hard could that be? She'd made pies before, so made the pie crust, then opened the box and poured a generous amount of the dry raisins into the lower crust, added the top crust and baked the pie. She proudly presented the surprise dessert. Jerry took a bite and was indeed surprised. He lifted the crust to peer at the dehydrated lumps and laconically queried, "Been raising rabbits?"

No one has asked me what worries me about the world today, but I'm going to tell you anyway. There is a virus, which to me, is more threatening than hurricanes, bird flu, or earthquakes. It attacks that part of many humans which, in my childhood was nurtured ...a conscience. How can a CEO enjoy his inflated lifestyle after having wiped out the pension funds of his employees? How can a looter (not the ones desperate for food, but the ones hauling off TV sets, etc.) add to the destruction the owner has already suffered? How can an able-bodied person justify living totally off the charity of others? How can people spend large sums of money they don't have and then wipe out the debt with bankruptcy? (Again, I have no argument with those whose bankruptcy is caused by a disaster out of their control.) How can people justify false lawsuits and claims? It's the conscience virus subtly at work. If you have children or grandchildren, vaccinate them with strong teachings, especially your own living example.

            Love,    Darlys

    Alice was to bake a cake for the church ladies' bake sale, but she forgot to do it until the last minute. She baked an angel food cake, but when she took it from the oven, the center had sunk in almost flat. She said, "Oh dear, there's no time to bake another cake." So she looked around the house for something to build up the center of the cake. Alice found it in the bathroom...a roll of toilet paper. She plunked it in and covered it with icing. The finished product looked beautiful, so she rushed it to the church. But before she left the house, she gave her daughter some money and specific instructions to be at the bake sale the minute it opened, and to buy that cake and bring it home. When the daughter arrived at the sale, the attractive cake had already been sold. Alice was beside herself. The next day, Alice was invited to a friend's home where two tables of bridge were to be played. After the game, a fancy lunch was served, and to top it off, the cake in question was presented for dessert. When Alice saw the cake, she started to get out of her chair to rush to the kitchen and warn her hostess, but before she could get to her feet, one of the other ladies said, "What a beautiful cake!" The hostess, who was a prominent church member, beamed as she said, "Thank you, I baked it myself."

    Bob was informed by his wife that tomorrow was their 10th wedding anniversary, and there had better be something new and shiny, that would go from 0-200 in record time, in the driveway when she got home from work. When she arrived home the next day there was a shiny brand new bathroom scale in the middle of the driveway. Funeral arrangements are pending for Mr. Robert Jones.

    An old man in Phoenix calls his son in New York and says, "I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; 45 years of misery is enough." "Pop, what are you talking about," the son screams. "We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the old man says. "We're sick and tired of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her." And he hangs up. Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone, "Like heck they're getting a divorce," she shouts. "I'll take care of this." She calls Phoenix immediately, and screams at the old man, "You are NOT getting divorced! Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then don't do a thing, Do you HEAR me?" And she hangs up. The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay," he says, "They're coming for Thanksgiving and paying their own way."

2006 2nd Wind Issue Index