Fleeting

Bill and Emily and the boys headed for home this morning; Mom flew out this afternoon; Heidi and I leave tomorrow, and the head melted off the snow dog a few minutes ago. Farewell Christmas 2010! You were gone all too soon.

Through the Eyes of a Child

A chunk of our holiday time together as a family has been devoted to getting Richard to watch the Star Wars saga; at the age of five, we figure he's ready to be initiated into this family favorite. Trouble is, he's a sensible kid, and he doesn't like scary stuff, so he's very resistant to the movies, refusing to watch them. His cousins, Victor and Treat, have loved all things Star Wars since The Phantom Menace came out in 1999, when they were seven and four. They in particular were eager to share a beloved part of their childhoods with their young cousin.


Truth be told, he never really had a chance with such a persistent campaign waged by so many, and finally, this morning, they lured him in with the cantina scene, after which he was hooked. That jazzy music, those crazy aliens, they'll do it every time. We watched the rest of Episode IV, and then watched it again from the beginning so that he could see what he had missed. After that, how could we not watch The Empire Strikes Back?

It's safe to say that the Star Wars boycott is over. Richard thought the movies were pretty cool, and he paid close attention, asking questions whenever he needed to; though perhaps his admiration is not quite so naked as ours, yet. At one point, he turned to his mom with curiosity. "Why is this called The Emperor's New Revenge?" he asked.

Whitish Christmas

It snowed enough in Atlanta to coat the grass thoroughly and treat everyone to the first white Christmas here since 1882. This morning, Richard said he wanted to build a snowman, and at first we thought it was our duty as rational adults to inform him that there simply wasn't enough snow for success. But then frostier minds prevailed, and we realized that if we scaled the project down, anything was possible.

Happy Ending

I write from 20,000 feet or there abouts, taking advantage of free holiday WiFi. The cloud cover is dense and cottony, offering no visibility. What could have been a disaster has taken a comfortable turn. We heard at about 6:30 last night that due to impending snow, Delta had canceled 500 flights in and out of Atlanta for today. Sure enough, ours was one of them, and they were offering no travel alternatives for at least two days.

We were on our way out for Christmas Eve dinner with Heidi's family, but I called my family with the bad news, because I knew my brother and brother-in-law were the guys who could fix this, if anyone could. By the time we finished our meal, they had investigated thoroughly, putting off their own dinner, and the word was that Delta was having equipment trouble with so many planes stranded in Europe, and that they were using an iffy weather forecast as an excuse to shuffle things around on a relatively slow travel day. Happy holidays to the corporate scrooge who dreamed up that spiritless plan.

As we had counted on, though, Bill and Jordan had found a few alternatives. One was a 99 dollar ticket on AirTran leaving just an hour later than our original flight. When I logged on to book the flight, it turned out that the only seats left were 20 dollars more for premium leg room. Okay, I shrugged. We had two bags. Another twenty dollars each, but free with a business class ticket which was only 49 dollars more than the base fare. So for an additional 9 bucks each, we ended up in business class and we should land in Atlanta, where there is no snow yet (I'm verrry disappointed in you, Delta), in about half an hour.

No Place Like Home for the Holidays

On Thanksgiving I wrote about last minute grocery shopping I was able to do that morning; here it is Christmas Eve and by 6 PM, everything in Buffalo was shut up tighter than ten drummers' drums. In fact, we went to a 3:55 movie at the mall, and when we came out, the place was deserted and all the shops were shuttered and locked. Our car was on the other side of the complex, though, and so our footsteps echoed as eerily as a Dickens' shade as we crossed the vast emptiness. The bare parking lot proclaimed louder than anything else could that it was past time for all shoppers to rush home with their treasures, which is just what we did.

Can Flying Cars Be Far Behind?

Among the promises for the future when I was young was that real time video communication would take the place of the telephone. Every futuristic TV show and movie had just such a device, and some even had it in a handheld version. Back then I remember adults wondering if it was such a good idea. "What if I don't want people to see me when I'm talking to them on the phone?" they asked.

Flash forward 40 years and courtesy of Apple FaceTime is a reality. I remembered being underwhelmed when I first heard about this new functionality on the latest iPhone, in fact, I didn't even use it for the first few months I had my phone, but then my brother got one, too, and I am hooked. It's better than the plain old phone for sure, but it's also better than being tethered to your computer as you are for other forms of video chat. Somehow, they have managed to make it feel like you are really there.

Tonight my family called from Atlanta, and I got to see and talk to everyone. My brother and nephew took turns directing the phone call, walking around the room, showing me the Christmas Tree, some wrapped packages, various family members as they went about their business. It was really cool-- definitely the next best thing to being there. And I didn't care at all how I looked.

Christmas Present, Christmas Past

Every Christmas for as long as I've known Heidi I've heard about these disgusting cookies her mother used to make at the holidays. Masquerading as a traditional cut-out, these were flavored heavily with anise, and neither Heidi nor her two brothers could stand them. To hear them tell it, they all had their own strategy to scope out the cookie plate to be sure that the one they selected was not of the dreaded licorice variety.

Last night at dinner the subject came up again, but this time her mother, Louise, told us how those were the only cookies they had when she was a little girl. The recipe was her mother's and it was based on a traditional Polish cookie similar to those her grandmother baked. "To me," she said, "they're the only cookies that really taste like Christmas." Then she shrugged and added, " I haven't made them in years because nobody else likes 'em, and they're too much work for just me."

"Oh, you should have them!" I said, ignoring Heidi and her brother shaking their heads and slashing their hands across their throats. "I'll make them for you tomorrow." Which is exactly what I did, with help from both of Louise's children, to their credit. It was an old-fashioned recipe-- all shortening and sour milk, and the dough was super-soft and a bit hard to roll, but it was totally worth it, and the whole experience only got better for me the minute they pulled out the old cookie cutters.

They were the exact same pressed aluminum and copper shapes that we had when I was a child. That hump-backed Santa and camel were unmistakable, as was the reindeer caught mid-flight, and the star with the fluted edges. "Is there a heart, diamond, spade, and club with this set?" I asked, recalling the bridge shapes that were present but rarely used in our collection. And they were there, along with the snowman and the bell and the Christmas Tree.

The cookies? Not terrible, even Heidi and Mark said so, but it wouldn't have mattered at all even if they were.