An alternative to the holiday wars

I have this theory that if we could get rid of political correctness and replace it with some common courtesy, things would work out a lot better.

Last week I found it ironic that the only people from my workplace who dared say 'Merry Christmas' were those from Singapore or Zurich. New York is just way too politically correct. Everyone from NY sent generic 'happy holidays' messages. It's not that I'm offended exactly -- after all, most of them aren't believers in the first place, so there's no reason they should be celebrating Christmas. But the Christians (myself among them) generally don't send anything at all, so it doesn't have to turn into an issue. That's a sad state of affairs.

This week, the office is pretty empty, since most of the managers are out. That means that there are hardly any Americans around. Most of my co-workers are Indians, and most of those are Hindu (although a few are Muslim). They greeted me this morning, and pleasantly asked me if I had spent a Merry Christmas. They were quite interested to know how I celebrated, but seemed satisfied to hear that I spend Christmas day with family, and went to church on Christmas eve, and on Christmas morning. One was eager to tell me that he himself had gone to a Christmas party. His punchline deserved a drum-roll: "It was the birthday of the baby Jesus!" Then he looked at me to see if he had said the right thing or not, and I emphatically agreed. The other gentlemen standing around the coffee maker seemed pleased that they had figured out this foreign custom.

Then a Rumanian co-worker asked me what I did for Christmas, and again I said that I spent it with family and in church. I suddenly realized that instead of being politically correct I could simply ask which holiday he celebrated. He acknowledged that he celebrates Christmas, as he is Eastern Orthodox (although non-practicing). He said that when he was young Christmas was not so overdone. Of course, some of it has to do with the fact that it was communist rather than capitalist, but it was still interesting to hear the difference. He said that children received just a few small sweets or toys. In fact, they carefully polished their shoes, because the gifts appeared inside! So now that he lives in a 'free' country, he celebrates Christmas by going to the mall instead of to church.

Bye, Barney

Barney died last week, but I wanted to honor Florence, so Barney had to wait.
For those of you who don't remember (how could you forget!), Barney was the dog that we've been praying for. His family is still hesitant to ask for prayers for themselves, but they were eager to get any help they could for their faithful friend.

I remember the first time I set eyes on him. I had already heard so much about him at work, that I finally insisted on meeting him, so a dinner was arranged, just as an excuse for me to get to know the dog. After we finished eating (spanikopita, saganaki, tatziki, scordalia, grilled octopus, pita, sangria), 'S's girlfriend went across the street to fetch Barney from the apartment. When dog noticed 'S' waiting on the sidewalk, he greeted him happily.

The picture above isn't really him - he was actually a combination beagle and basset hound, and I had never hear that kind of happy howl before. It wasn't the traditional baying at the moon crooning. It wasn't the sound of a wolf wannabe. Rather it was more like a song of great joy -- a loud song of great joy. A song that resonated up and down Broadway, and across 76th street. Pavarotti would have wept in envy to hear the resonance, sounding effortlessly above the noise of the traffic, and the taxi-cabs, and the people.
Awoooooo, Awoooooooo, Awooooo-wooooo-wooooo-woooo.
I laughed so hard I ended up sitting on the sidewalk of Manhattan, with the dog in my lap. It was one of those unforgettable moments.

But over the past few years, Barney has been accumulating illnesses. Each medication had side-effects that caused other problems. And every time he was taken to the hospital, we prayed. (You guys were praying, weren't you?). His family is still not quite comfortable with this prayer thing, and certainly weren't interested in going to church with me, but they would reach out to try anything for Barney.

They are a wonderful, thoughtful, intelligent, friendly, humorous couple from a Jewish tradition, who are respectful and patient with my beliefs. When we get together they ask me how church is, because they are good conversationalists, sort of like asking someone how their hobby is going -- it's an example of good manners and friendly courtesy rather than true interest. But Barney was the one touchpoint where they were intensely interested. When he was sick with pneumonia, I got daily hospital bulletins from them. They clearly figured that it couldn't hurt, and just maybe it might help.

As he aged, and the frequency of his illnesses accelerated, I realized that unless he was going to be some kind of miraculous Elijah-dog, he was going to die. Frankly, I worried that there would be a backlash. (To be honest, I worry about that when I pray for people too -- if the prayer doesn't 'work', will they be resentful and mad?).

But 'S' was unfailingly gracious. He called to tell me that Barney was dead, and then said that they figured that the prayers had pulled him through several times, and brought him an extra year of life.

So we won't be praying for Barney any more, but please pray that 'S' and his wife 'S' will keep reaching out for prayer for other topics.

Farewell, Florence

She had been failing for the past year, and sometimes asked to leave church early , so when I didn’t see her in the nursing home for a few weeks, I just assumed she was tired – I didn’t realize she had died. I know we’re not supposed to have favorites, but I do anyway, and I’ll really miss her.

She really epitomized my theory that as we age we simply become a more concentrated version of our own personality. She was a sweetheart. Even when she didn’t remember who someone was, she was friendly and appreciative.

I remember one morning when her niece came to see her. Florence was not having a good memory day, but her personality was intact. She smiled sweetly at her niece and confided: “I don’t remember who you are, but you are so nice to come and see me!”She loved proclaiming her age. It varied every week. Sometimes she was 84 and sometimes she was 94. Once in a while she was 96. She loved asking us to guess her age, and of course it was a surprise every time. Regardless of the number she chose, she would cock her head coyly to the side and gleefully proclaim: “Not bad for a little old lady!” I always delighted her by responding: “You’re not just any little old lady, you are a TERRIFIC little old lady! “ And each time she was thrilled, and eagerly asked: “Really? You think I’m terrific?” She beamed with a wide smile that cheerfully showed off her two remaining teeth.

Well the joke was on me. I would sometimes try to correct her and remind her that she was 94, but it turns out she was actually 100! Her goal was to be nice to everybody, and I can honestly say she was a great example. Goodbye Florence.

3 ideas for simplifying Christmas Shopping

I'm probably not unusual in getting stressed out around Christmas. It's partly a question of expectations, both on my part and from other people. And of course the issue of gifts gets increasingly complex.

So I've started a personal simplification campaign. Most of my friends are getting a copy of one of my favorite Christian books. People for whom that is not appropriate (either they are not readers, or don't have time to read, or aren't believers) get a gift basket that I make up for them with treats from Trader Joe, tailored to their personal tastes. And people for whom that won't work get the simple honor of donations made in their name to World Vision.

I know I've blogged about that before, but it's really fun. The way I look at it is that if I really can't figure out anything that the person wants, it is better to donate to a poor family who will really appreciate it, than wander the malls aimlessly, and then pay too much for a piece of overpriced junk that will simply take up space.

You may recall that last year I honored my friend 'H' with a camel donated in his name. It was the most expensive gift I gave, but I knew that the ultimate recipient would appreciate it, even if it wasn't exactly what 'H' was expecting. Luckily, he got the point, and was pleased. He did ask my why I didn't give a pig, since they are so useful, and I explained that I wasn't sure that a pig would sound like such an honor (especially since he is Jewish). But he assured me that a pig would be fine, so guess what I got him this year?

Looking back on it, I find that the camel was my very best investment last year. Did you know that the price of camels went up 30% this year? Thank goodness I purchased one when they were cheap! Some day I'll splurge on an All-Inclusive Mongolian Ger.

There are gifts for every budget, starting under $20, and ranging to the tens of thousands. Choose a category that will be meaningful to the recipient. Food, shelter, education, etc. The easiest way to 'shop' is to go to the world vision website, click on the 'ways to give' tab, and choose 'gift catalog'. You will see some of their most popular items, but you can also browse through a particular category by choosing a topic on the left. Feed a village. Prevent Malaria. Educate a child. Give a wheelchair. Donate a Llama. Drill a well. Care for a girl survivor of war. Rescue a girl from the sex trade. Plant an orchard. Raise a chicken. Separate the sheep from the goats...

Isn't that more fun than the mall?

Do you have any Mondegreens?

We are approaching Mondegreen season. Do you have a mondegreen?

The best thing about mondegreens is that we generally cannot tell if we ourselves are afflicted -- that's the fun of it.

A mondegreen occurs when we hear a poem or a song, and misunderstand the lyrics. We can go for years happily singing our own words, never realizing that they are not 'correct'. The word 'mondegreen' itself was coined by a woman who suddenly realized that she had been singing a song incorrectly since she was a child. Her version sounds plausible:
Ye Highlands and Ye Lowlands
Oh where hae you been?
They hae slay the Earl of Murray,
And Lady Mondegreen.
But actually the last line was supposed to be:
And laid him on the green.

In church circles, one of the most famous mondegreens came from the child whose favorite hymn was: "Gladly the cross-eyed bear". The rest of us know this better as: "Gladly, the Cross I'd bear".
Other favorites are heard in the Lord's Prayer, which occasionally pleads "lead us not into Penn Station"
Christmas Carols always have great mondegreen possibilities. After all, we usually sing them first as a child, we are more likely to hear then first rather than reading the words, and they are only performed seasonally.
This may actually explain why Good King Wenceslas is so unpopular. I wouldn't like him either if I thought that
"Good King Wences' car backed out
On the feet of heathens"

I mentioned mondegreens to my boss, and he immediately contributed one from his wife. They attend a seasonal event where the Morris dancers sing 'Lord of the Dance'. She was looking forward to it, and mentioned that she really liked the dancing tree song. Apparently it took them a while to figure out that they were singing:
"I am the Lord of the Dance, said He"
but she was hearing:
"I am the Lord of the dancing tree".

There is a wonderful collection of Christmas mondegreens you can look up, if you are interested.

But the most fun will be if you submit comments with your own mondegreens.

Traditions

I've been thinking about traditions lately. I guess we all have our own connotations of tradition. Some people assume the word is talking about something good -- they envision a warm family scene perhaps. Others assume the word is bad, referring to attitudes and actions that are boring at best, and archaic or harmful at worst.

I went to a college that enjoyed its traditions. I was a bellringer, and we rang the bells every evening before dinner, as well as for special events (such as the first snowfall of the year). We loved sharing the traditions that had been handed down, such as afternoon tea with the professors, and the annual basketball game between the freshmen and the sophomores. Some of those traditions will probably change in the next year or two, since the college has just started admitting men, who may start their own traditions, or modify some of the existing ones. I can't really see them dancing around the sycamore tree, or kissing Minerva's toe (don't ask).

But somehow it seems that it takes a shorter period of time nowadays to create a tradition. In fact, it apparently only takes once! For example, a friend of mine noted that her husband was taken aback to find that their vacation flight was not booked on JetBlue. "We always fly JetBlue." May I note that he had only flown JetBlue once in his life.

Another incidence of an instant tradition arose at work. Last year I baked a cake, and brought it in to share with anyone who came in to work on the Friday after Thanksgiving. This year, one of my Indian co-workers felt on solid ground in her understanding of what happens on the American holiday of Thanksgiving -- Ann bakes a cake. When she reminded me of this, I felt that I really should do so again. And I inadvertently repeated a sub-tradition, when I left out one of the ingredients. Last year I left out the oil. This year I left out the lemon rind. Ironically, both times it turned out fine!