Earl and I have been married 22 years. That’s like Allen Ludden and Betty White years. When asked why she didn’t marry again, Betty White responded “when you’ve had the best why settle for anything else?”
I totally get that.
22 years ago tonight I married my best friend. That’s the way to do it, folks.
It’s the little things that make the holiday season special. It’s not about mauling other shoppers for the cheapest 55-inch television, or trying to impress with the latest, most expensive, soon-to-be-obsolete gadget.
It’s about holding the door. Running the vacuum. A pair of gloves. A love note written with a Sharpie on the remains of a notepad. It’s about making new traditions, reveling in memories, sharing warm tidings.
No one should dictate how you convey these thoughts. Any glad tiding should be received as the gift was offered. The words don’t matter, it’s the intent that should make an impression.
Be of good cheer. Share warmth, not judgment. And make this holiday, no matter how or when you choose to celebrate, if you celebrate at all, one to remember with pleasant memories.
I once dropped a set of kitchen glasses in the checkout line at J.M. Fields. We were on our annual Christmas shopping trip, which included a stop at the closest McDonalds for dinner. The closest Golden Arches was 35 miles away at the time, I was in my elementary years, and the cash registers on the McDonalds counter were made by GTE/Comp-Acct.
I remember the stupidest things.
My dad would take the four of us Christmas shopping once a year; he always wanted to shop at Central Tractor, but he would take us to a discount department store as well. In the early years it was Grants, but that one particular year it was J.M. Fields. I wanted to buy my mom a set of kitchen glasses. They had brown and yellow flowers painted on the side, but I dropped them when I was putting them on the checkout counter.
I was mortified.
We may have shopped at different discount department stores during the single digit years of my life but one thing that was a constant was the excitement I felt when the village DPW put up the Christmas decorations on the lamp posts in the “downtown area”. I grew up in an Upstate New York town with a population of around 2500. The village, which my mother called “downtown”, was possibly three blocks of store fronts. At the time power lines lined the Main Street, which was actually called Jefferson Street. During the holidays the street light poles were adorned with simple Christmas ornaments, usually big red bells with a 150-watt light bulb in the middle. On the corner was a candle or wreath covered in tinsel. The ornaments had a ’60s vibe to them and were simple. I was always excited when the ornaments went up around Thanksgiving because it meant Santa Claus was coming to town.
I was watching a Hallmark Christmas Movie earlier this evening. It was set in a small town where a big city executive came back to her hometown and she found the spirit of Christmas when the big tree lighting ceremony took place. I recognized the smiles and happiness the main character felt when the tree lighting took place in tonight’s movie, I always felt the same way when the bells went up on the lampposts.
Holiday street decorations are very sophisticated in the big city. There are glittering balls hanging over the streets and twinkling lights adorning great big, excessive displays. But that’s really what the holiday shopping has turned into, right? Big, grand gestures meant to impress.
I miss the simplicity of the red bells with a 150-watt bulb giving them a warm glow.
I was out for a walk this evening and one house, a few blocks away, had an outside display along the fence that lined their yard. The Christmas lights were the older “Merry Midget” incandescent miniature Christmas lights. You could only string two or three of these sets of lights together without blowing a fuse. The harsh, impersonal glow of LED lights were nowhere to be found. These lights were warm, inviting, and quietly suggested, “Happy Holidays”, in yellow, blue, green, red, pink, and gold. If one of the lights had been replaced with a white bulb with a red tip, the entire string of lights would have flashed in unison. No need to twinkle, just blink.
Simplicity.
I miss the excitement I felt about the holidays as a kid. Today there’s so many commitments and commercials and pressure to buy the right gift for our loved one. As an adult money is a never-ending concern. “They know what I make, will they be impressed with a scarf?”.
I want the stress of the holidays to just go away permanently, and I want to be in awe of a simple red bell, lit by a 150-watt incandescent bulb, hanging from a street lamp.
I want a simple holiday with family and friends. The rest is just unnecessary.
I appreciate that Starbucks is open on key holidays in the United States to serve those who don’t celebrate that holiday, but I really hope they don’t force any of their employees to work, and instead ask for volunteers.
In February 1996 my grandmother (Grandma Country) died of colon cancer. This wasn’t something the family talked about. Everyone thought she was going to be fine, even though sections of her colon had been removed and she was getting weaker every day. Cancer took her life on February 29, 1996. I had an opportunity to say good-bye the day before. As I laid by the makeshift hospital bed in the living room of that beautiful mid-century home, I thanked her for all she had done for me; much that no one else in the family knew about.
I bring this up because I have always been told that the risk of colon cancer can run in the family. My father mentioned this in his final years when he went for a colonoscopy. I never knew the results of his test and he died a few years later in an airplane crash. I had no familial data to determine whether colon cancer could be passed down the family line.
During my last yearly physical my doctor suggested that since I had turned 50 and because I had history of colon cancer in my family, I should schedule my first routine colonoscopy.
That took place today.
Being a bit worried about the experience and especially about the outcome, and being a geek through and through, I did a lot of reading about the procedure online. I visited several forums, read about experiences, read about outcomes, etc. A lot of the things talked about the same thing: the prep was worse than the actual procedure.
A week before my appointment I had to stop eating corn, seeds, and nuts. This made me a little insane as we went to the movies last Friday night and I couldn’t have popcorn. Popcorn is my favorite food. My mother raised us on soup and popcorn. Popcorn was an ever-present side dish. Steaks could be grilled on the patio and brought in for supper and there would be a bowl of popcorn on the table next to the grilled steaks. It’s what we did.
Three days before the procedure I had to stop eating high-fiber foods. The instructions said no fruits or vegetables, full stop.
The day before the procedure I moved to a liquid diet. Nothing red, nothing purple, and only liquid. I drank chicken broth for all three meals. I know green jello well. I drank 7-UP and apple juice. It wasn’t as bad as giving up popcorn and I could deal with it.
Last night began the final step of prep: drinking the gallon of lemon-lime “stuff” that would help me clean my bowels. The instructions were simple: eight glasses, each 10 minutes apart, until I was through half the gallon. Because Imperial Measurements are completely random, I thought that meant four glasses to get through 32 ounces in a half gallon. Ha ha! There’s 64 glasses in a half gallon because a gallon is 128 ounces. So much for that. But I dutifully drank all eight glasses, had my moments in the bathroom that don’t require a great amount of detail, and surprisingly I felt well enough to attend a showing of “The Book of Mormon” at the Oriental Theater with the family. The stories I had read online talked about bringing multiple laptops to the commode, screaming in pain, and writhing in agony, but I had none of these systems. A bunch of liquid came out, I wiped, I flushed. Relax on the couch for a few moments, rinse, and repeat.
I didn’t need to hit the washroom during intermission last night. The accounts online were way overrated. Probably to increase hit counts.
This morning I finished the gallon of lemon-lime stuff starting at 4:00 a.m., did the bathroom thing a few times and had time for an hour nap before heading to Northwestern Medical Center downtown. I was in the office on time and the doctor came in to visit shortly before I went into the procedure room. The worst part of the whole experience was the IV port in my arm and that wasn’t even that bad.
I told the nurse injecting the sedative into the port that I would remember her name and say nice things about her in my blog. I also warned her that I talked in my sleep and asked her not to hold anything against me. She giggled and I passed out; that was the last thing I remember.
I barely remember being in the recovery room, aside from Dr. Lee coming in and telling me that I had NO polyps in my colon. They had found nothing but a very clean colon. I had done the prep very well and I made it easy-peasy. “See you in 10 years”. Next thing I knew Earl was at my side smiling and then we were home.
There was lunch and some travel in between but I am definitely having gaps in my memory. The sedative lingered a bit; I slept a few hours and then all of a sudden things were back to normal.
Except I stopped worrying. I did a lot of worrying for nothing.
I don’t know if tendencies for colon cancer get passed along generational lines or not. Dr. Lee told me he wasn’t worried about that history. No one else in the family has signs of colon cancer (that I’m aware of).
I’m just happy I had a clean bill of health today. I’m occasionally told I’m full of crap. I have the pictures to prove that statement false.
BELL, BOOK AND CANDLE 1958 DIRECTED BY RICHARD QUINE Janice Rule, James Stewart and Kim Novak.
I love watching movies from the mid 20th Century. Not only is the architecture and decor absolutely gorgeous, folks from that era knew how to dress for the occasion. In the movie, Shepherd and Merle meet up with Gillian at the Zodiac Club, an underground club. Live music is playing, people are drinking martinis and the like and Jimmy Stewart’s Shep is wearing a tux for the occasion. Janice Rule’s Merle is wearing a beautiful gown. Their style is impeccable. People knew how to look their best.
This morning during my walk I couldn’t help but notice the number of people getting on the train in sweatpants. I wondered if they were headed to work dressed that way or off to the gym. My workplace is now allowing shorts to be worn year ’round. I would never think to wear shorts to the office.
I used to be a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy but as I’ve grown older I’ve felt the need to dress nicer. I’d love to wear a tux again. Maybe the next time Earl and I go out for a swanky date night I’ll really dress up for the occasion.
I always feel my best when I’m dressed to be bewitching.
Other than your friendly United attendant stating that he or she doesn’t accept cash, I was unaware of “cashless restaurants”, even here in the third largest city in the United States. Interesting concept, but I can see how it would create problems for those who use only cash.
Sometimes I look at Monday with a little bit of dread. I’m like most people in that regard, I suppose, because it means the weekend is over and it’s time to get to work. Who came up with the idea to work 1/3 of the day for over 2/3 of the week, anyway? I should read up on the history of that.
Today I was up at 6:00 a.m. and headed out for my morning walk. I try to walk two to three miles before starting the workday. On the days I skip my morning walk I’m a big lethargic during the day. On the other hand, if I get up at 6:00 a.m. after a restless night’s sleep, I’m lethargic as well. It’s a balancing act.
The walk worked today, as I found my balance, but only for most of the morning. Come lunch time I was tired. I snuck a power nap on the couch around lunch time and then I made it through the afternoon. I crossed off the requisite items on my To Do list at the end of the day, and more importantly, I achieved Inbox Zero nirvana, so there’s that.
I’m currently sitting in a Starbucks in Lincoln Square because I needed a change of view for a few moments. Some decorations are up on the street light poles, signaling the arrival of the Holiday Season (even though it’s not Thanksgiving yet). As long as I’m not being assaulted with Christmas music I’m good. I like the twinkling of the lights. They make me smile.
This Starbucks has indie sounding music playing. There is not sign of that Mariah Carey tune that gives me HTSD (Holiday Traumatic Stress Disorder). I wouldn’t mind if I never heard that song again.
Holiday spirit on a lively Monday or not, I’m not ready for crass commercialism.
I’m sitting here in my home office doing the Friday afternoon thing. I’m listening to ambient, fairly instrumental electronic music. I downloaded this mix from YouTube a couple of years ago and I have no idea what songs are actually playing in this mix. It’s 75 minutes of synthesizers, minimal vocals, and simple percussion effortlessly mixed together at 129 beats per minute. It’s the music I listen to when I’m concentrating for work. It helps me maintain focus, this break to write a blog entry non-withstanding.
My job is hectic. As the leader of a magnificent team of seven people, and a full-time software developer as well, there’s a lot of moving parts that I need to keep moving in the right direction. It can be a challenge at time, the biggest part of the challenge being that it feels like I never have enough time to get everything done. Keeping notes, lists, and other reminders in an organized fashion is key. I’m at the point where I can do my job on any type of computer. I would prefer to do my work on a Mac (choice 1) or a Linux based computer (choice 2), but the company I work for is firmly entrenched in Microsoft technology and so I work on this Dell laptop that has it’s own quirky personality. I can deal with it and I’ve learned to skip the stress related to idiosyncrasies such as rearranging all my windows when the screensaver comes on. I’ve spent hours trying to figure that quirk out and to this day a solution escapes me.
It’s been a week since our vacation and I’m still feeling remarkably centered and happy. Remembering to breathe and trying to keep the emotional responses to a minimum have been key. It’s something I’ve been working on since vacation and the results thus far have been content.
I’m three and a half years into working for this company and I’m the most content I’ve been in a long while. I’ve found my cadence, I feel like things are moving in the right direction, and I like what I do.
I’m going to do everything I can to keep moving in this direction, because it’s a fantastic feeling.
A friend recently posted this letter in a discussion about honesty. It was written by Amelia Earhart to, at the time, future husband George Putnam.
The honesty of Ms. Earhart’s words strike a chord within me. The world needs more of this honesty. I strive to be this honest.
Just a guy with a husband. We’ve been together 28 years and he still makes me see fireworks on a daily basis. Hiker. Storm Chaser. Private Pilot. Tech Guy. Hackerish.
Weird? Eccentric!