Let There Be Lights!

The year 2020 had a lot of things going against it, but pandemic aside? It was a big year for Christmas lights. In this area, at least, tons of people stuck at home but with the privilege to spend their time and money on such things went all out on their holiday decorations. It was one of the joys of the year to walk outside with friends and ooh and aah over the lights.

The ensuing years cannot compare, and I confess that, although I understand, I am disappointed, even in myself. 

When we were down in Myrtle Beach for Thanksgiving, I felt like that vibe could be changing: so many houses had so many lights. I wondered if it was a function of the percentage of retirees residing in that neighborhood (God knows we have time on our hands and the willingness to use it), but back at home, I noticed a similar trend.

"It's like everyone said, 'Let's get those Christmas lights out of the attic!" this year," I said to Heidi the other evening as we walked Lucy in the gathering dusk. Then I shrugged. "But it does seem like a good idea."

And I am in! I did our lower deck tonight, and I've got plans for the upstairs and front porch, too. As the longest night of the year approaches, any light in the darkness makes my heart sing a little.

Out in the Storm

The weather was predicted to worsen as the day wore on, so at noon, I laced up my boots, put on my raincoat, and took Lucy out for a walk. The wind was manageable, and the temperatures had not yet fallen to their predicted chill, so we ambled a relatively pleasant two miles before turning back toward home. 

No one else was out, so it seemed as if we had the world to ourselves, winding in and out and behind the bike paths, buildings, and courtyards of our neighborhood. Lucy was all in; a little rain never dampened her sense of smell or exploration. As we neared home, I collected a few evergreen branches and holly sprigs for a Christmas arrangement just before the wind picked up. 

It was a lovely walk. 

A few hours later, when I went to fetch Heidi from school in a now torrential downpour, the radio was tuned to a holiday station. Michael Buble sang, "Oh, the weather outside is frightful!" 

And I had to agree, but when he continued the song, I made a little lyrical substitution for myself, "but since it's no use to complain, let it rain, let it rain, let it rain!"

Check that Out

This afternoon, I had to reach higher than usual to put my groceries on the cashier's belt. For a moment, I wondered if I was shrinking, but when I got to the register and met the tall young man working there, I understood. Even so, I couldn't help myself. "This belt is so high!" I told him. 

He laughed and showed me the switch that could raise and lower it.

"That's crazy!" I said. "I've never noticed that they are adjustable!"

"It's good for me," he laughed again, and we continued to chat amiably as he scanned my groceries. 

As we talked, I noticed he was wearing a button that read, I'm new around here, so I asked him how long he'd been on the job.

He told me a complicated story about his first two weeks and then his second two weeks, and then he shook his head and laughed again. "Let's say about a month," he answered, then held up my rutabaga. "What's this?" 

"Rutabaga or yellow turnip," I told him and watched as he quickly typed in some letters on his screen. Rutabaga flashed by momentarily, but then he swiped to a different screen. "Oh! I saw it back there!" I told him. "The code was 4747."

"You saw it?" he asked with surprise but typed in the numbers. Rutabaga flashed across the display, and he tapped enter.

"Maybe you should work here, too!" he said.

"Maybe," I agreed, "but we'd definitely have to lower the belt!"

Have Yourself a Sloppy Little Christmas

I'd gotten a bit behind on my Hallmark Christmas movie viewing this year until we spent a weekend at a mountain resort with its own Christmas Village. Then, tuning into a Christmas movie before bed seemed just right. 

Over the weekend, we saw most or part of several of this year's new offerings, and I noticed a trend. Almost every story we watched featured a middle-aged woman who wanted Christmas to be perfect. Whether she was the main character, the main character's mom, or the boyfriend's mom, by the end of the movie, she always learned that imperfection makes each Christmas special. As long as the family has each other, whether in person or in spirit, the holiday is a success.

An ad for Hallmark that ran several times during every movie reinforced this common theme. The message of the commercial was that Hallmark may inspire us at the holidays, but the rest is up to us, so relax and enjoy your holiday.

I have to wonder-- has there been a backlash? Has Hallmark been getting some shade about presenting Christmas scenarios that are too perfect and somehow deflating their core viewership? Such a scenario seems kind of likely, and count on that network to know it, too. 

Even so? It's a lesson worth remembering.

Dry Spell

I saw Dirty Dancing when it came out in 1987. It was at the end of the summer after my dad died. My brother had moved to D.C., my girlfriend had moved to Milwaukee, my sister was in college, and I was working as a cook at a local cafe and catering company. My day off was the middle of the week, and rather than spend my time alone in the blinding sun on the crowded beach, I sought refuge in a dark theater at the mall. 

It must have been what was playing at the time I got there, and I remember being pleasantly charmed by the movie. So much so that I saw it again with a group of friends a week or so later. Of course, the film has gained and maintained iconic status in the nearly 40 years since, but I don't think I ever saw it again.

Until today. 

Since we are staying at one of the main filming locations, watching Dirty Dancing seemed like a perfect afternoon activity, especially after walking the property and hiking around the lake basin. And seeing it was nuts! That movie was unquestionably filmed right here, within sight of where we were sitting. Baby's cabin, the stone lodge, the gazebo by the lake, are all exactly the same. But the lake?

Well... Marvelous and Mysterious Mountain Lake has had some ups and downs (literally) since 1986 when the movie was shot. The lake is a legend for its fluctuating levels, and during the production, the water covered 55 acres, and the hotel property was waterfront. In the decades since, though, despite engineering and attempted restoration, the lake has receded to only a few acres at the far end of the basin, nearly out of view of the resort. 

Throughout the movie, that was almost all I could focus on. Anytime they showed the water, I gasped. I didn't realize what was missing until I saw it.

It just so happened that as we were watching the movie, a dear friend texted us that her elder dog was having a health crisis. We paused the film a few times to read the updates and send messages as supportive as we could.

Research has assured me that this dry spell for the lake is not evidence that anything is wrong with, but rather that it is working just as it always has. Mountain Lake's geology and topology are unique not just to this area but to the world. The last time it was at full capacity was 2005, and although nothing is for sure, that could, and probably will, change in the future.

I confess that I am finding it a little difficult to appreciate how cool these fluctuations are, especially when I see the lake at its lowest. Could it be allegorical? If so, I wonder what the lesson is and whether I can pass the test at the end.

The Last Leg

"Bill would HATE this," I commented as we drove up the winding mountain road; the higher we got, the steeper the drop-off. 

But the views! I would have loved them if I wasn't behind the wheel piloting us on the final 7 miles of our road trip to Mountain Lake Lodge. At 5:30, the December sun was long gone behind the mountains to the west, but the sky was magnificent. 

"Is that snow?" Heidi asked.

"Yup. Are those deer?" I asked in return.

And then, there it was: So many holiday lights! The lodge, the trees, the Christmas Village all lit up on the top of the mountain. Was it, dare I say? Dazzling?

Indeed it was.

Good for Something

In my many years of teaching English, I gave my fair share of standardized tests, both real and practice. Inevitably, there were student complaints, most along the lines of, "Why are the readings soooooo boring?" In real testing situations, I was prohibited by law from looking at these onerous passages, but the same was not true for the practice exams. Even so, I rarely read those tests carefully; usually, I was too busy grading and planning some activities that would actually teach the students to read and write rather than artificially gauge their abilities. But one day, the sighs and whimpers were too much. 

"What. is. wrong?" I asked.

"This test is soooooo boring!" a student whined, and many others agreed.

"What are you talking about?" I said and walked over to look at the passage. "Mysterious and Marvelous Mountain Lake" was the title. I quickly scanned the seven paragraphs and was not bored at all. Instead, I read a super interesting little article about one of the two natural lakes found in Virginia. For many years, its pattern of draining and filling baffled science until they discovered a huge drain hole in the bottom of the lake. It has also been a tourist destination for centuries: the first hotel was built in 1850.

"You guys!" I proclaimed. "This is NOT boring! Who knew there was such a marvelous and mysterious lake right here in Virginia!"

The class rolled their eyes at me.

"I mean it!" I doubled down. "It has a hole in it! It is beautiful! There is a historic hotel there! I am totally going on vacation to Mountain Lake one day!"

And that day? Is tomorrow! 

Last year, Heidi gave me a gift certificate to Mountain Lake Lodge for my birthday, and a few months ago, I booked a cabin there, just in time for their Christmas festivities. In addition to that lake, the Christmas Village and Marketplace, the miles of hiking trails, and other resort activities, the property was the filming location for Dirty Dancing. It's going to be uh-mazing!

I guess the SOL is good for something, after all.