Tag Archives: Christmas

What’s In a Christmas Movie?….

24 Dec

What do you find in a Christmas movie?  Some are filled with the magic of the season.  Some are filled with the knowledge that each one of us is special.  Some teach us that the spirit of Christmas is giving more than we receive.

Last night, my mother and I watched The Gathering, starring Ed Asner and Maureen Stapleton, made in 1977.  If you’ve never seen it, it’s about an older man who left his wife because of selfish reasons, and dismissed his grown children because of differences he was too proud to overlook (including one son who had dodged the Vietnam War draft).  This man is diagnosed with a fatal illness that will leave him only a month or two to live.  It dawns on him that he is out of time to mend his family, and decides to have one last Christmas gathering before he dies.

Not only is the message clear, and lasting, but it brought back memories of past Christmases in my family, especially for my mother.  My father looked quite a bit like Ed Asner, and was gruff and sometimes brutal in his view of how a family should be, and how the world should be.

When they were decorating the tree, Maureen Stapleton unwrapped a cookie made from baker’s clay, decorated with sequins and marker.  Just like the ones my siblings and I made when we were kids.  The head was broken from the body, and required super glue for mending, reminding my mother of all those baker’s clay cookies made and decorated so long ago, and crumbling after being stored and unwrapped year after year for the last 40 years.

Especially poignant was the scene where Ed Asner, as the patriarch of the family, read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas to the kids before bedtime, adding to the magic and anticipation of Santa, whose reindeer and sleigh was surely not that far away.  My father did that too.  He had a special Night Before Christmas book – the cover padded and puffy – that was pulled out every year for the one traditional story that had to be read before bedtime.

But instead of leaving Santa cookies and milk, as Ed Asner suggested to his grandchildren, my dad had assured us that Santa was tired of so many cookies, and he was surely sick to death of milk.  Better to leave him a Big Mac from McDonald’s, with a cold Diet Dr. Pepper to wash it down.

The Gathering was bitter-sweet.  Bringing back those wonderful childhood memories of Christmas, but then reminding both my mother and me that sometimes you couldn’t go backwards, only forwards. Sometimes, there was simply no more time left. 

The movie ended with us knowing Ed Asner would never see his children again, and would leave his family behind within weeks.  My dad won’t be coming back either. 

Sometimes, it is, in fact, too late.  But more often than not, there’s still time to make things right, and to let others know how much they mean to us.  When the opportunity presents itself, don’t waste it – seize the gift when it’s given.

Merry Christmas to everyone: today, tomorrow, and throughout the year.  May your days be merry and bright!

Merry Christmas! Please take my Santa poll.

24 Dec

Merry Christmas to all!   (No, I’m not a plagiarist, I swear!)

Please let me know your vote on the following important questions.  Thanks!

Fatherless This Christmas…

23 Dec

Six months ago,  if someone would have told me that I wouldn’t have my Dad much longer, I would have laughed – he’ll live to be two-hundred, maybe even three.  Six months ago, my Father was nagging me about getting him the manuscript for The Cuckoo’s Cry, which had already been delayed…and delayed…and delayed.  He was going to be one of my editorial critics (he truly believed in me).  Six months ago on Sunday, I promised him I’d FEDEX  the draft within  a week.  Six months ago on Tuesday, he was dead.

My Dad was a little hard to get along with; and I must say, I have to admit to the claim of being almost just like him.  The rest of my family totally agrees (believe me – this is both a good thing and a not-so-good thing).  But as you can guess, my Father molded me into the person I am today – fiercely independent, and outspoken, yet deeply concerned about humanity’s path, and those who can’t do for themselves.  He was a psychiatrist – the real, listening-and-I’ll-talk-you-through-it kind;  the kind you can hardly find anymore.  And as an added bonus, he was really funny (crude sometimes, but funny nonetheless).

And he still liked to call me “kid.”

On Sunday, I promised him the manuscript would be in the FEDEX box very, very soon.  On Tuesday, I was frantically driving two hours to the hospital where they’d finally cleared his throat after not getting oxygen for almost an hour-and-a-half.  He had choked to death.

They had him hooked up to a ventilator, and tubes, and whatever else that keeps a body alive when the soul has already departed.  Just until they could run tests and know for sure.  But I knew he was already gone.  One day there – to make me laugh and call me “kid” and tell me I was the slowest writer in the universe;  two days later gone from my life.

So I sit here in my office every day, looking at his cushy, green armchair next to my desk.  The one that could accomodate his size, that he sat in every single weekday, having not had a sick day in 37 years, listening to his patients and helping them sift through their problems, throwing in humor along the way.  I see it every day, and wish that one day when I open the door, he’ll be there, just to say “Hi”.  At least once.

When we were little, Dad had convinced us that Santa was tired of just eating cookies and milk, and he would much prefer a Big Mac, fries, and a Diet Dr. Pepper.  So that’s what we left on the mantle – real food for the already fat man in red.

This is the first Christmas he won’t be here, reading The Night Before Christmas from the little red book with the padded cover that we got when I was eight.

My Dad loved cold weather;  he loved Christmas (guess that’s where I get it from). And he loved to say “Bah, Humbug!”.

Merry Christmas, my kindred spirit!  I miss you!

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