A Christmas Reflection

A nice bit of Christmas writing by Joseph Bottum at First Things, here. Our family's Christmases do not seem so fraught with misadventures as his.

When Beth and I were first married, we spent Christmas Eve at my cousin Gary's house in Tracy. Then we would drive home very late to San Jose, celebrate our own little Christmas on Christmas day, then drive up to San Francisco to celebrate with Beth's parents. It made for a wonderfully exhausting 24 hours.

As a kid, we used to open one gift on Christmas Eve, then await the real loot from Santa on Christmas morning. There was the obligatory bath on Christmas Eve, and wouldn't you know it, as soon as we were in the bath, Santa would come. Every year! Of course, there was nothing said nor read about the birth of Jesus in our house. My dad had long since given up belief in Christianity as silly, and my mom, the lapsed Catholic who married a wayward Protestant, lived in perpetual guilt.

Still, there were times when the guilt would bubble over the top and my mom would drag my brother and I to church. This usually lasted for a few weeks. After a while, she got tired of getting two sleepy children out of bed and dressed properly early on Sunday, especially while the kids protested, "But why does DAD get to sleep in?" So our Sunday mornings would be back to the normal routine of sleeping, eating, watching cartoons, and on special days in the fall, Vikings home games.

Still, there was enough spiritual veneer from this drive-by church attendance forays that some of it stuck. I remember wandering around the house in my pajamas, singing Christmas carols at the top of my voice. "Oh tidings of comfort and JOY!" I had no idea what they meant, nor what the source of the joy was, nor even of the back story, but the sentiment sounded good. And even as a budding materialist, it even sounded better than anything Santa Claus could bring during the ritual bath.

The ritual bath. I have always wondered what was communicated subconsciously by my parents during our rituals. Was the Christmas Eve bath supposed to make us "ready" for Christmas? Was it a sort of baptism, washing us clean? Was it that Christmas was only for good little boys, freshly scrubbed, and appropriately pious (in a sort of secular way)?

I wonder about this because the point of the birth of Jesus was that he was born to remove the sin which so eagerly clings to us. Jesus was born into a world where people viciously gossiped about his unwed young mother's "condition". Into a world where inn keepers denied lodging to a young pregnant couple who had walked 80 miles to participate in a census ordered by some Roman bureaucrat who cared not at all about the hardship he inflicted on the people in the empire. He wanted numbers, man. Numbers count. People were incidental to the empire's profit. They needed counting. Odd, isn't it, that when Jesus later had crowds gathered around him that he didn't say, "Count them", but rather he said, "Feed them."

After the parents' divorce, my mom and brother and I moved to California. Our Christmas traditions were altered forever. We celebrated for many years, about ten, I think, with my relatives: Uncle Al and Aunt Rosella, and cousins Gary and Jeff. Our first California Christmas was in 1970, the year before we moved out here. The weather was warmed than in MN. There was no snow. And there were more presents at my uncle's house than I had ever seen before. It was obscene! I mean, we opened presents for hours! And he took special joy in watching us open these gifts.

I remember the one thing I really wanted was a yellow oxford shirt. Don't ask why, it was the early 1970's, when fashion taste had gone into hibernation. I mean, we thought avacado green and burnt orange were great colors, and that shag rugs were "cool". My uncle knew this, and a yellow oxford shirt appeared in one of my presents! Well, and there was also the obligatory socks and underwear, without which no Christmas is complete. (I see by the picture that the 1970's are back, fashion-wise. And people still believe in evolution or progress?)

My aunt tried in vain to provide the proper spiritual context. So after the supper of Swedish meatballs, we had to sing Christmas carols. There is something about having to sing Christmas carols that takes the joy out of them, I suppose. But the deal was we needed to sing before we opened presents. It was a small price to pay for the materialistic orgy we were about to partake in, though. So we sang about comfort and joy, when our minds were on the big box with the green wrapping paper to the left of the tree with our name on it.

And so it went for ten years, until in the early 1980's, my uncle died of a heart attack. Just like his father before him. From then on, Christmas with the Loux family was never the same. We tried to do the same things, the Swedish meatballs, the carols, the opening of presents until 2:00 a.m., and yet it was not the same. A great presence was missing.

And now here we are in 2005. Married for 25 years, with two teenagers and two dogs. We are, for the first time, parentless. Beth's parents passed away a few years ago, mine have both passed away in the last 18 months. So we approach this Christmas with a void, a hole in our hearts. The memories of joyous celebrations past haunt us. And yet today is all we have been promised. Someday, our kids will look back on these days with the same sort of fondness that I look back on my childhood Christmases.

We may not be worthy to carry on the tradition. We may not be ready, exactly. My to-do list grows longer with each passing day, not shorter. And yet this is the day of the Lord's favor. We celebrate his coming, with all its mystery and hope. And we are in desperate need of his coming.

Spud Gun

Potpourri for $500 has a great little article and link about spud guns. He describes the old days of taping sod cans together (after removing the top and bottom), putting in a tennis ball, pouring lighter fluid on the ground, and then setting the tube on the lit fluid and launching said tennis ball into the air.

Brings back memories of my summers in Owatonna, MN. My brother and I stayed with my dear Aunt Dora, we shamefully called her "Aunt Dodo". The Springer boys (no, not Jerry) lived down the street, and they were about our age. We found all sorts of ways to amuse ourselves during those long, hot summer days. Some of them were legal, and others less so. Incredibly, Owatonna survived our week-long visits in the summer.

This is the Farmer's National Bank building in Owatonna. Located near the central city park, where band concerts and parades were held. This is the "downtown" section of Owatonna. Much of it, when I last saw it, is abandoned, with many store fronts closed. Much retail business has moved out near the highway. One of my fondest memories is of dressing up, and walking with Aunt Dora "uptown" to have a nice meal together. Dora always wore her white gloves when going out, as an proper lady would do. She always shook her head and "tsk'ed" any woman she saw who was not so properly attired. I found it curious at the time.

Best Media Corrections of 2005

This is hilarious! A web site called "Regret the Error" has posted an entry on media errors and corrections in 2005, here.

Ladies and Gentleman, the Correction of the Year for 2005, as published in the Denver Daily News on July 27:

The Denver Daily News would like to offer a sincere apology for a typo in Wednesday's Town Talk regarding New Jersey's proposal to ban smoking in automobiles. It was not the author's intention to call New Jersey 'Jew Jersey.'

Yes, it’s a terrible error. Offensive, even. And the resulting correction is hilarious. But another reason we singled this baby out is that, like so many corrections, it begs for much more detail and a more complete explanation. The News offends an entire state and a major religion and all it can muster is 39 words? Only a newspaper could get away with that.

This is followed by all sorts of corrections and typos.

Typo of the Year

Feast your eyes on this November Reuters report about the recall of "beef panties."

First Runner Up

From the Dallas Morning News: Norma Adams-Wade's June 15 column incorrectly called Mary Ann Thompson-Frenk a socialist. She is a socialite.

What a great site! Corrections from many major newspapers and news organizations.

Of course, none of us has ever made a mistake that needed correction, or spoken oddly.

I recall the time when my wife, Beth, and I moved to Pasadena to begin grad school. We were sharing a house with a couple we had known in San Jose, Bob and Martha Savage. One night, a telemarketer called, and asked, "May I please speak with your wife?" I casually replied, "Which one?" Then, catching myself, I tried to explain what I meant. The more I explained, the worse it got. So I hung up.

Enjoy.

Frederic Edwin Church

No, this is not the name of a church I have applied to as a pastor. He was a famous 19th century painter, from the Hudson River School of American painting.

Until two weeks ago, I knew nothing about him. Until I began listening to a song by Marc Cohn called Olana. I initially had no idea what the song was about, but the tune was catchy, and the lyrics intrigued me. The second verse is this:

From the Andes to Niagara
To where we stand today
I drew the great creations of my master
'Til the oil and the canvas
Lord I threw them all away
And traded them for stone and brick and plaster

Obviously, whoever this is about is/was a painter. But why the references to the Andes and Niagara? Those two references sounded too disparate for me, so I googled them. Here's what I found.

This is a painting simply called, Niagara, painted in 1857. Beautiful! Notice how the light shines forth from the painting, something art scholars call the "luminous".

"Church's first visit to Niagara Falls was probably in 1848, a few months after Thomas Cole's death. Church made the trip from his home along the Hudson River several times, probably travelling the Erie Canal. He is thought that he visited again in September of 1851 but in 1856 he started work on the painting above. That year Church visited the Falls at all seasons - on March 19-20, on July 7th and again in September and October. The work was finally exhibited in 1857 at Williams, Stevens & Williams. Viewers were charged twenty five cents to see the painting. The gallery purchased the painting for $2,500 plus $2,000 for copyright to make chromolithographs." (From this site)

In 1859, he painted this picture, call "The Heart of the Andes". This painting caused quite a stir when it was first shown, as it was huge: over five feet tall, and almost ten feet wide.

As I searched, I found another picture of Church's that I really like, called "Twilight in the Wilderness." Having seen this sort of scene growing up on Minnesota prarie, it brings to me a feeling of nostalgia, of longing, something not easily put into words.

From wikipedia: In 1860 Church bought a farm in Hudson, New York and married Isabel Carnes. Both Church's first son and daughter died in March, 1863 of diphtheria, but he and his wife started a new family with the birth of Frederic junior in 1865.

When he and his wife had a family of four children, they began to travel together. In 1867 they visited Europe and the Middle East, allowing Church to return to painting larger works.

Before leaving on that trip, Church purchased the eighteen acres (73,000 m²) on the hilltop above his Hudson farm -- land he had long wanted because of its magnificent views of the Hudson River and the Catskills. In 1870 he began the construction of "Olana" on that site. This highly personal and eclectic castle incorporated many of the design ideas that he had acquired in the Middle East. Olana, now owned by the nonprofit Olana Partnership and administered by the National Trust for Historic Preservation, is a New York State historic site open to the public. While Church continued to paint monumental landscapes at Olana, he also enjoyed painting small, spontaneous sketches of clouds and sunsets from his hilltop home.

Olana is now a state park. There is also an organization for the preservation of Olana.

This is wonderful. A new (to me) song, makes me curious about it's message. A little internet search, and we are there.

I am intrigued by a man who was so good at painting, and yet gave it up to work on a farm. What would cause a man to do such a thing? Perhaps it is the strong human longing for a home, a place to belong, to feel safe and secure.

What Kids Really Want

An interesting article, here, about what kids are really thankful for. I meant to post this a few weeks ago, but ran out of time and energy.

The interesting thing, as we are fully into the "holiday" season, is that so many adults are focused on buying gifts for children. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose. We all like receiving gifts. But really, what is a new iPod worth compared to an intact family where everyone is healthy and happy?

Most kids I know, even the most materialistic ones, would rather spend some time with family than get more stuff. The "stuff" is just a poor substitute for what we really crave, which is human relationship. "Man does not live on bread alone" said Jesus, echoing Moses. There is more to human beings than bodies, and more needs than just physical.

A Narnia Post

I have yet to see the Narnia film, perhaps this weekend. I was busy this weekend helping train about 100 soccer referees.

Mark D. Roberts has an excellent post (here) concerning how Christians might pursue a conversation with someone about the Narnia film. How does one communicate about Christ with someone who has no previous biblical nor theological background?

One great line from Mark:

In my experience, what many people today find offensive about Christians is our tendency to pretend as if we have all the answers, and to insinuate that we're better than others for this reason. We do believe we have some wonderfully true answers to life's questions. Yet we surely we don't have all of them, and what we know we know "as through a glass darkly." Moreover, whatever we know about God depends, not on our personal excellence, but upon God's mercy.

Nicely put.

I Passed!

Last Saturday, I passed my final assessment to become an AYSO Advanced Referee. The process is to take a class, and pass a written test of soccer knowledge. Then there are some physical tests one must pass: run a mile in 12 minutes, run 50 yards in less than 10 seconds, and a 40 yard agility drill. Then one must be assessed by a referee assessor as an Assistant Referee (AR), and then as a Referee.

I passed by AR assessment last spring at a tournament in Pasadena. However, my first attempt at passing my Referee assessment was a failure. I did not fail, exactly, but the assessor felt that the game was not competitive enough. What that means, I suppose, is that my skills at managing the game were not tested.

Which brings me to last Saturday. The same assessor was there this time. And at the half, commented that this game, too, looked like it was not competitive enough to pass the assessment. "Great!" I thought to myself. Still, the game progressed nicely in the second half. It was a boys U14 semi-final playoff game, with two evenly matched teams. In the second half, I awarded two penalty kicks, and issued a yellow card. The final result was 4-3.

After the game, the assessor congratulated me, and informed me that the game had become competitive enough for him to pass me. I was surprised, and relieved.

With increased honor, comes increased responsibility. This weekend, I will be assisting the staff at the Leo Nedeff Referee Camp, being held at South Pasadena High School. Should be fun to see others take the Intermediate, Advanced, and National courses.

Christmas Tree Controversy

Is it a "Christmas tree" or a "holiday tree"? Inquiring minds want to know. There is some excellent writing this week about this at Mark D. Roberts' blog.

It seems to me that Pastor Mark is correct. In the name of sensitivity, in the name of not wanting to offend anyone, we are held captive by a relatively few number of people. More people, in fact, are offended by "holiday tree" than "Christmas tree." While wanting to preserve the freedom of the minority, we do not want to then give in to the tyranny of the minority.

Besides, anyone who knows people knows this: some people are just predisposed to being offended. They are hyper sensitive to any remark or gesture that could in the remostest sense be construed as "offensive." I always wonder whether these sensitive souls were the victims of an intentional offense, or whether they have taken offense when none has been offered.

Read Mark's postings on this. He has said it far better than I ever could.

Some More Great Headlines

More "Squad Helps Dog Bite Victim" Headlines. Do you suppose some editor makes these up on purpose?

Two charged in cutting off man's ears waive hearing (Huh?)

NFL queries sought for Pope, Moses (What happened to the separation of church and the NFL?)

UCLA's Big Problem: How to Stop Bush (The academic world goes political.)

N.Korea ready to scrap nuclear plans for better ties: envoy (I have some ties to send to the North Koreans if they will scrap their nuclear plans. There are probably a whole bunch of ties already at Pinnacle Peak in Glendora. Maybe Kim Jung Il is really a clothes horse in disguise as a ruthless dictator.)

HT: Opinion Journal Best of the Web

Nineteen Games in Six Days

I have just finished refereeing my 19th game in the last six days. The Friday after Thanksgiving, our AYSO region (214) hosts the Arroyo Seco Cup Tournament. I helped coordinate the referees for the tournament, and also refereed 11 games over the course of two days. After taking a well deserved sabbath, I have refereed two games each night this week so far.

All have been very exciting games, and I love watching the kids play hard, and the parents cheering hard. I enjoy being a referee. Even my son enjoys it, and reports are that he is very good. He's the handsome one in the picture above.