Newsy Christmas Letter 09

Wow, this is the worst ever, no letter prior to Christmas. Have you ever heard of someone being that busy? And it gets worse, Chris never got her bathroooms clean. For the love of Heaven!
But Christmas came just the same with all the food preparing, the family time, over eating, church time and tons of gifts. Speaking of gifts, Chris is typing on her new Dell now. Sadly, it is smarter than Chris, so she have named her lap top, Geni girl, short for genious.
What are the chances of a lap top dying right in the early morning of Christmas? Good thing that Santa had a new one just raring to go under the tree for Chris. Her dear son had to get it going, but that's OK. Now Chris can email, facebook, and read the ignorant stuff on Twitter, where they speak a different language and know a secret code that is most annoying and totally disinteresting.
Rusty decided to sacrifice himself this year and at the last moment, purchased a ton of golf clubs and a bunch of other stuff, that UPS kept delivering before the big snow. Somehow the 2 ft of snow closed schools for 3 days and the mail did not come one day at all. Nurses spent days in the hospital and the patients didn't even notice. It's all about them you know?
Rusty, Chris and boys were invited to the other Evans home for Christmas brunch. So it was decided to pick up Mom Evans on the way, who needs a wheelchair, but everyone prefers to drag her around, which we did. It took both of her sons to get her into the car to go back to the nursing home, which is a story by itself.
Chris is still doing some insane things to cause herself bodily harm. Two days before Christmas, her hellion dog, Max was caught behind the railing of the deck in 2 ft of snow. Poor thing was freezing to death, and Chris felt the need to rescue him during a Raven's game. So she went out in a pair of bedroom slippers and was so close to getting the dog, but she forgot about the window well and fell in, landing flat on her back as she worried that she may have broken something. As she lay there, Rusty came yelling and cursing like a sailor, because Chris broke his plastic $ 4.99 cover and ruined his landscaping that apparently took him 3 hrs to do in the summer. Who covers up a window well anyway?
You would think that with a wife on Coumadin, he may have worried about a terminal problem or a 10 hr trip to the hospital. But no, he just stepped over Chris and got the dog, all the while cursing and nutty as a fruit cake. For the love of Heaven, where is the love????
The well incident keeps resurfacing and has to this moment and will continue to do so throughout the year 2010.
Chris spent all of Christmas Eve preparing a dinner for the day after Christmas. By 4pm that same day, it occured to everyone that there would be no dinner prepared, so we had pizza on Christmas Eve. Now that is a good idea. Two boxes and no mess.
Now lets get to the children. The oldest son,hemi, managed to get excellent grades at Stevenson University. He has a lot to be proud of, but has a little shadow hanging over his head as the MVA is considering taking his driving privileges away. Of course, this means he will need an escort to and from college and is still dependent on his parents.
The youngest son is still not employed since having 2 degrees qualifies him to do absolutely nothing, which warranted him come back home and live. Now he and his brother have reverted back to the toddler days and are trying their best not to have a fist fight.
Hemi, still has not found the perfect woman, but I am sure she is out there somewhere. We are praying for her sudden arrival and look everyday for her.
The youngest has a steady girlfriend and they seem to get along with one another just fine. Chris, however, has to butt out of their lives, since that's what mothers are supposed to do, be seem and not heard.
Now for the mothers. Chris's mother continues to drive to the Eastern Shore despite the fact her B/P was 180/80 and she was dizzy. If you are a little shakey on knowing if there is a God or not, just sit in the car with a 83 year old woman for a 3 1/2 drive. At the moment she is without a car, but Chris is sure she will want to go get that car any day now.
Rusty's Mom is doing well in the nursing home. She has managed to gain 10 lbs after her explosive episodes of bleeding that put her in ICU last month. Chris and Rusty were able to get her to her other sons house on Christmas day, but the two boys of hers, weighing in at 225 and 250lbs, had difficulty getting her to the car. Hello men, it's wheelchair time.
Chris babysat Mom Evans while everyone else enjoyed a great game of ping pong. Of course this included potty detail and diaper checks.
They all managed to enjoy Christmas, even though Hillary, our neice showed an hour of Christmas past, where she was the star. We did see some old footage of Mom and Dad Evans and that was just delightful to see. Dad and Mom Evans were so young and they looked so happy. Chris felt like crying.
Anyway, at least Rusty did not throw up numerous times due to a food injury, like last year. Everyone liked their Christmas presents, but hemi still managed to come up with 2 gifts to return (that he himself selected).
Next year, we think we are going with the wheel chair and Chug milkshakes, two diapers intact and a fork lift for the elderly.
The good news, Christmas is over!! No more cooking and no more turkey!! No more cleaning up and no more poundage, even though Chris' mother did give her a box of cherries, which she has to have since she doesn't eat, according to Nora.
We did get out our family picture card and sent it to what few friends we have. It took 10 tries to get Rusty to smile. But that's OK, there is always next year.
Happy New Year !!!

Sam and Me

Proudly, I am admitting to you that I have not had an affair since 1976. Oh sure, there have been temptations, but once you've had real love, your head doesn't turn so easily.
I recall the day as if it were yesterday, the day I saw her and I knew she was the one for me. She was sitting boldly in the dealer parking lot, a 1976 Pontiac Firebird. She was midnight blue with pale blue racing stripes and very large tires. The interior was a softer blue and the dash resembled the cockpit of a jet, even though I have never seen that part of a jet. She had a large V-8 engine with an 8 track tape player. Was she cool or what? She was an automatic and the gear shift was on a console between the two front bucket seats. When I got to test drive her, the new scent stiffened by cilia and I was head over heels in love.
She was a single's car, a tease at the traffic lights and she loved to go fast, which was her only fault. I admit that she sometimes got me into trouble, so she wasn't perfect, but as close as one could get.
Then sadly, my day to settle down came and we needed a family car. For some reason, infants and sports cars don't mesh and I had to chose between the two, since my biological clock was running out. So after 6 years of bliss, I sold her to my little brother, just to keep her in the family and I can not remember feeling such sadness before. But one has to move on, and I did.
We had several cars in the next 20 years, but only a few got my attention. One was an SUV, that I nicknamed the Tank. She was as daring as anything you could imagine. She loved the snow and ice as if she took pride in getting me home safely, as if it was her job and she was in charge. However, she wasn't perfect since she truly hated it when I applied the brakes. She just didn't want to stop. The accelerator, on the other hand, knew its role and I got my one and only speeding ticket in the Tank.
I wanted to explain to the officer how stubborn she was about obeying the speed limit, but he seemed rather disinterested as he wrote the $150 speeding ticket, after he congratulated me on have a good driving record. He should have said perfect, but I was busy explaining to him that my father who was sitting in the passenger seat, was a stroke victim and I had left his medication home, which was true. Dad, with his hat on sideways and who rarely completed a sensible sentence was sitting staring out the window. At first, I thought the officer was going to have mercy on me and then he looked at my Dad and tried to engage him in a meaningful conversation. And wouldn't you know it, Dad responds with perfect dialogue and no fool on earth would have suspected he ever had a stoke. The officer asked,"How are you sir?" Dad turns to look at him and says, "Fine, thank you !" For the love of heaven. As we drove away, I threatened to put him in a nursing home.
Our need for another vehicle came as our two boys grew and they, along with everyone else's kids needed a ride to all kinds of ballgames, so we invested in a minivan. I missed driving around in my Tank, because I could reach around and slap my kids while I drove, but in the minivan, I was just a mesh of empty threats- you know, "don't make me pull over" stuff.
The minivan was dependable and roomy with front wheel drive. After the feeling left that I was a bus driver, I started to like her some more. But she scared me. She was not the mellow vehicle she pretended to be, as a matter of fact, she had some serious mental health issues.
She was a serial killer, she stuck a whole family of deer with deer blood splattering on my windshield before the first car payment was made. My son was with me and has never forgiven me for killing Rudolph. Later she feathered a chicken, killed 3 birds, squashed 2 squirrels, a rabbit and tried to run over our neighbor's dog while the little girl was walking him. She knew no mercy and I thanked God she didn't try to kill a human, even though she did veer toward my neighbor as he was mowing his lawn right in broad daylight. How do you love a car like that? You don't, you just wait 10 years and trade it in. She didn't even deserve a nickname.
Then it happened, I feel in love. It all came about when we had to put our Tank down. She was totaled on a slippery rainy night with a teenager driving. Our son blamed the weather, but the officer at the scene came up with 6 other reasons. I went to visit her in the junk yard to pay my last respects. It broke my heart to see her so broken. I cried.
I missed the Tank so much that my husband decided to invest in another SUV. I would only settle for red. I didn't care about anything else, no frills, just red.
As soon as we arrived on the dealor lot, I saw her, a brand spanking new , red Jeep liberty 4x4. She was parked in the front to catch my attention. The sun was shining on her fresh wax job, she was immaculate. She had huge tires and a big one on the back. Her windows were tinted. She was mighty fine.
The dealer passed me the keys and asked me if I wanted to test drive her-just give me those keys mister. I hopped in and the new car smell hit me again and I was dizzy in love. I couldn't think and I knew he must have been wondering why I didn't just turn the ignition. I had no answer. I just had to sit in the driver's seat and look at the little dials and play with the clicker thing, which impressed me more than the car itself.
There were 4 buttons on the clicker thing and I loved all of them, but my special one was the panic button, it set my heart to racing.
Finally I turned the ignition on and told the dealer that I wanted to be alone. He gave me a weird look as if I was going to steal the car, but he jumped out and I bravely took her for a little spin around the parking lot. My armpits were sweating as if I was afraid one of the parked cars was going to crash into me.
After the business transaction, I started the nervous ride home. As I traveled a few yards, she locked me in. It was the sweetest sound ever. I was infatuated.
I parked her in the garage and refused to get out of her. I read the manual, checked the radio, and sniffed the newness for hours. I finally got out and with my clicker, I locked her. She made a noise like a girly fart. It was then, that I named her Sam, short for Samantha.
Soon the name caught on and eveyone called her Sam. She and I waited for the first sign of snow which took its pea picking time coming and finally brought 2 inches of snow. Sam and I were ecstatic and we headed for the grocery store for absolutely nothing. Cars were in ditches and one was in a man's hedges. We just breezed past as if there was no snow at all. I could hear her tires gripping the road like gum on the bottom of a shoe. We did the speed limit with no fear, We were daring.
At last, I had become one of those annoying drivers that blows past you on the road when it is too dangerous to be out of the house. At last, I was cool again !!

The Gift on Christmas Day

Christmas Eve had arrived and brought with it, the clouds of worry about my Dad's deteriorating condition. He had developed a dangerous heart rhythm and was on a telemetry unit in a hospital one hour away.
He had always been a strong man, but several strokes had attacked his weakening body and mind. He had become a fragile 75 yr old man with little dignity. Yet, I was not ready to say good-bye to him. I couldn't let him go. Not yet and especially not today.
My heart was heavy and my temples were throbbing from the constant effort to conceal the tears that were always threatening to spill. Christmas was a special time, especially for small children and my two sons were no exception. I knew the strain of PopPop being so sick, but they were too young to understand. I had to keep the holiday as usual. My Dad would have wanted it that way. Christmas would go on, even without him.
Unwilling to face the restless night, that I knew awaited me, I forced myself to try to unwind. I found myself staring blankly at the shimmering, soft, glow from the lights of the Christmas tree. But something was missing. There was no gift for Dad under the tree. It was a sad reminder that maybe he wouldn't be in need of a gift this year.
Memories of Christmas past began to flood my mind which seemed to give me some settling peace. Traditions were carried out year after year by my Dad, who believed in a force not seen and who showed no interest in material things. Yet he had worked six days a week to make sure his family had the joy and magic of Christmas.
As a small child, Christmas Eve night was a time of excitement and anticipation. There was little money to spare, yet my brothers and I were never disappointed on Christmas morning.
We were taught as young children to treat our toys as precious gems, since the toys were indeed rare, but Santa never forgot us year after year.
I vividly recall the Christmas of 1958, when Santa left a Shirley Temple doll under the tree for me. I still have her. Her blue silk dress has never left her body and her head of curls still surround her brilliant blue eyes. She is listed today as less than mint, since she is missing a shoe, but to me, she is priceless. This doll is a reminder of Christmas past, when money didn't really matter and when families had time for each other.
With each passing Christmas, traditions in our home never varied. Dad waited until Christmas Eve night to bring in the spectacular cedar tree. With just a few lights, several glass ornaments,and a zillion strings of icicles, our whole family got together and managed to turn the cedar tree into a brilliant Christmas tree. The tree was not complete without the icicles. The icicles and the lights hid all the imperfections. It was a night of all nights, the best night of the year, a night of magic. The sweet memories made me smile.
And today, another Christmas Eve, I was no longer a child and all I could think about was Christmas past. I thought of the candlelight service at St. Paul's church in Wenona, where I was raised. This service was a reminder to everyone that Jesus was the reason for the season. I could almost smell the wax candles burning as we all joined in singing Silent Night.
My brothers and I are all married now, with families and have moved away from Wenona. But the traditions live on. Being physically apart on this special night each year, we are still connected in spirit, in different cities and in different churches for the Candlelight services. Our father's prayer was that the circle not be broken.
We remind our children each year, that Christmas is about love, not wrapped gifts under a trimmed tree. It's about family, not toys. It's about a loving God who sent the special gift of his son, who is our only source of strength. We tell our children about their grandfather who was not ashamed of his God and that he prayed on his knees with his children and even cried at times. His gift to his children and grandchildren was his strong belief in a God we could not see and a place we could only imagine.
I was lost in my thoughts, listening to the crackling of wood in the fireplace and I drifted into a restful sleep that night. As morning dawned, I awoke with a new peace, since the hospital did not call. No news was good news.
My Dad was fighting a good fight and I had been selfishly praying that he would hang on, just one more Christmas and he had. He was alone in a hospital bed with strangers, oblivious to the holiday. He had no gift and no tree. He could not walk and he could not see. What difference did Christmas make to him? It was just another day to a man who was prisoner in his own mind.
On Christmas morning, I watched my two boys rip open their gifts in their usual high speed fashion, but my mind kept drifting back to Dad, who had no gifts. He had grown up in a poor family with five other siblings. He became a man who had no use for material things. He learned to be content with what he had.
And yet, I was still sad that he had no gifts under the tree, just a little gift, maybe something that he could hold on his lap. But there was no gift at all. I found myself fretting that he was all alone and prayed that someone would feed him breakfast that morning. In his present state, food meant more to him than anything else, more than gifts, more than decorating a Christmas tree.
For Dad, this day was no different from Christmas past when he learned to be thankful that there was food on the table.
I didn't have a gift for my Dad that day, no wrapped present, but I suddenly knew that Christmas morning what I could give him. I made him a promise to never again pray selfishly for him to hang on for me. I gave him permission to go to his final resting place when he was ready. That same place he taught his children about, where he could go and wait for his family.

Dad is celebrating with Jesus today. I believe his eyes are clear and he can see us gathering together in a little huddle surrounding the Christmas tree. I believe he is singing with the angels and his words are no longer garbled. I believe his legs are strong and that he is dancing around a beautiful tree as he helps decorate it with icicles. I believe he can feel the love that encircles each family. I believe he knows about my gift to him years ago. My promise to let him go!!!