O TANNENBAUM

WHAT WAS THERE ABOUT THIS YEAR that made me decide on a whim to purchase a tree? It's to be a year of no material gifts whatsoever, neither given, nor received and I surprised myself by buying an 8 inch wreath and a small swag for our front door, mostly so we could get a whiff of Christmas now and again. That aroma is too good to give up and before my purchases dried up, they didn't offer much in the way of the sweet smell of Christmas.

I passed this sign on the way home from breakfast last Sunday and circled the block, whipped into a parking place and asked my Scrooge how he felt about choosing a tree. Amazingly, he was game and soon reappeared with a perfect little evergreen.

At home he emerged from the passenger side with his tree just as Clara was finishing her three-times-around-the-block-equals-one-mile ritual and she insisted on hanging the tree on her walker to take it inside.

Although she lives on the first floor, she marched on to the elevator and when we got to our door, Clara had the littlest Christmas tree waiting for us.

I couldn't resist taking a picture for the archives. I know that we had a traditional live tree, fully decorated, as the children were growing up, but I wonder at what point we jettisoned the practice to devote all of our energies toward the extra hours of retail demands at that time of year.

Our daughter remembers, perhaps too vividly, the year I was determined to have a tree in every room of the house and proceeded to buy our six trees, standing them in buckets of water on the patio and after Christmas, carrying them from the back yard out to the trash pickup location at the curb. They never saw the inside of the house. A total waste of money. Foolish and frustrating, more so even than the year I mixed up several batches of cookie dough in November, labeling them with oven temperature and baking time before finding room for them in the freezer. My organizational efforts always fail and we didn't get around to Christmas cookie baking until the next February.

So you can see the import of acquiring a tree this year of all years, a year that I can't label "bad" even though we've been challenged beyond anything that's happened to us before. I can't speak for Mr. Bob, but I have found unexpected gifts in the situation, perhaps most of all the receiving of your friendship as you've cheered us on along this unknown path.

"Tradition:

sit with husband

in a room

lit only by 

tree lights and remember that 

our blessings outnumber the lights. 

Happy Christmas to all!"

                                                                                      Betsy Caños Garmon

PAYDAY

I KNOW I'VE MENTIONED BEFORE that the staff at the Manor are not allowed to accept tips. If, God forbid, a resident should insist on tipping a helper, I'm sure the person who lives here would be sharply reprimanded, but the employee would be fired on the spot. Or so I've been told and I don't plan to test it. The urge to tip is hard to resist when the services rendered are often way beyond the call of duty.


I think that's what attracted us about this place in the beginning..... it was obvious that staff members were sincere in their willingness to help and help they do......amazingly.............dropping whatever they're doing to assist a resident who they see carrying a package or juggling keys to unlock a gate or door. 


Our chance to express monetary appreciation comes in the fall of the year. It's much like being near the end of a long cruise when it's time to tip the crew members. Someone brilliant in mathematics is in charge of figuring out how much each employee receives based on seniority from the money that accumulates in the Employees' Appreciation Fund.


Santa comes on a designated day mid-December and the staff are called on alphabetically. One year I hope they'll consider calling names by number of years of working at the Manor. I sat next to someone in the payroll department and was treated to the benefit of annotation as she whispered such words as, "She's been here 25 years".


The worker approaches, shakes hands with our president, Jack Frost and turns to Santa who hands out the envelopes along with a dollar coin for good luck. The residents and other staffers applaud and it's a feel-good event for all concerned.

Maggie has been here 20 years. She works 2 jobs and is the mother of 6 children.

Sometimes it's Jack Frost who gets a hug.
Susie from the dining room is wise. 
Jack's here all year 'round.

Other times it's Santa. Cora takes care of prescription needs and takes good care of us.

Janice is an important nurse who worked here a long time, retired, then missed us enough to return to work.

Juan is one of the skilled cooks in the kitchen and one of two Juans on the staff.

I think this is Conrad. His look-alike brother works on the nursing staff, too, and their mother before them.

Carlos is in charge of the Maintenance and Housekeeping crews.

Verjik waits tables and is always jolly.

Daffodale brought her son, Wyatt, to the festivities.

All mothers are beautiful.
Wyatt is especially fortunate in that respect.

I call this "Waiting for Santa"
Taken in December, 2010

"GETTING TO GO"

I'LL FOREVER WONDER if the reason I came through the mastectomy without losing my sanity might be because I had become so hungry for something different to do that I welcomed even what promised to be a negative experience. I'm a hypochondriac who is deathly afraid of doctors, and the family marveled at what appeared to be "bravery" on my part, but I don't think it could be termed "courage" and certainly not "fearlessness"......how embarrassing if it was merely "boredom".




So after seeing Mr. Bob through months of treatment (and one of these days I must come clean about what living with chemo was REALLY like, but not just yet), and weeks of my own tests and surgery and recuperation and the beginning of my own  chemotherapy program, the last week of "rest" between medications has been what in the drug world might be termed a "trip". 


Even though my eyesight seems to have dimmed somewhat, my receptors have been overwhelmed with insights and ideas and appreciations. One night I made myself get up at 3 a.m. to write down some of the thoughts that were flooding my brain, just so I could fall back into the sleep that usually comes so easily.

I've been letting myself be more spontaneous about going places and following through on ideas, dragging my own precious Scrooge along with me, so far with less complaints from him than when I'm trying to please him rather than myself. 


A friend I'd not seen for months suggested meeting for lunch last week and the actuality brought me such pleasure that I determined to indulge myself more often. That very same evening we joined our former neighbors for our monthly Chinese dinner at a big round table with a lazy Susan in the middle, laden with succulent offerings; definitely the way to go at an Asian restaurant is with a large group which gives one a taste of many flavors. After dinner I drove through Montrose which always enhances one's Christmas spirit.  The tree that was written about in scathing terms in our local paper didn't shock me at all, but rather brought a smile to my face because it dared to be so different. I know who wrote the letter of complaint and I'm sitting on my hands to keep from responding. Christmas isn't the time to be argumentative.

Two days later, we partied rather than stitching at the weekly Needlepoint Group, with lunch and an ornament exchange that was good fun.


Breakfast with friends on  Sunday, after which, wonder of wonders, I was moved to get the first Christmas tree we've had in probably 15 years. I'll do a separate entry about it. I still can't believe it happened as I marvel at the whiffs of Christmas that emanate from it.


Remember, everything that I like, I tend to do in excess and being sprung from what felt like bondage, showed that tendency of mine, so on Monday after taking Mr. Bob to the cardiologist ("everything's fine.....see you in 3 months"), we stopped at Leon's, a new bakery in town and shared a pulled pork sandwich with extra aioli.














Mr. Bob's radiation

appointment on Tuesday took longer than usual; I would have had to drive over the speed limit to get back to the Manor before they stopped serving dinner, so I found a parking place and we enjoyed seafood at Clancy's......Mr. Bob ordered cedar plank salmon. He said not a word about its being good. I hope it was. My fish and chips were excellent.


This morning early I descended to the bowels of the building and had my hair washed and blown dry before rising to the occasion of taking Bob for his daily dose of electromagnetic waves; from there to the credit union and next our minivan nosed its way to a place called The Toasted Bun where we had a late breakfast.

I'm ashamed of the amount of hedonism I've exhibited in this past week. In my heart of hearts I know that I'd do it again, given the chance. I can feel a New Year's resolution or 2 coming up. Meanwhile, "DECADENCE" is my word of the month. At a nearby school, it appears to be something else.

"Too much of a good thing can be wonderful."
                                  ~ Mae West

OUR 2011 THANKSGIVING

HOW I WISH I had kept a record of our 59 Thanksgivings. Each the same at its core, but with variations on the basic theme. This year it was decided that eating here at the Manor was too good an idea to pass up.......no preparation (I love the image of women at church services, hands smelling of onions on the morning of the holiday) and better yet, no clean up. 

Remember 2010 when Roger was recuperating following a lengthy illness and we brought turkey  to the hospital cafeteria? (for the curious amongst you, Fiona is still going strong, but this year chose to go with lady friends to dinner and a movie.)


It was Chef Darin's first Thanksgiving at the Manor and along with oven roasted bird, he offered deep fried turkey which unanimously we voted the "best turkey we'd ever eaten". The rest of the feast was quite traditional. Good, good, good.


Roger and Mr. Bob wore their Reyn Spooner holiday shirts, dated 2008, Roger's with a darker background than Mr. Bob's, but the same design. 

After dinner we repaired to Diane and Roger's beautiful home for pumpkin pie and to decorate their Christmas tree, using the fairytale ornaments that Diane bought at our "estate sale", finding them under a pile of junk. 

It's a good thing to see them used properly. Most years, after the kids were grown and gone, we didn't put up a tree and when we did, only a few of the fairytale ornaments found their way to the limbs along with our other baubles. Diane knows how to do it right and her tree was a marvel to behold.

Tim's height helped to place the messenger of God at the tiptop where angels belong and voila!

Let Christmas begin!

"The perfect Christmas tree? All Christmas trees are perfect!"

                    ~ Charles S. Barnard

THE DAY AFTER

'Twas the day after Christmas and Justin wanted to know where Michael Jackson was laid to rest so on the way to Tim's house we drove through Forest Lawn. I'd not thought of the place as being a tourist attraction, although I suppose that long ago it was considered such. Ryan was interested enough to jump out of the car to capture a picture of the rolling hills.

I never see a picture of David without remembering the story of the mother, seated in the front row at our local YMCA on the first night of a sex education session for junior high students, who  when the first slide was shown and it was of the statue of David, fainted dead away at the sight of .......well, you know. How embarrassing it must have been for the daughter.

Even in the days when our meanderings by car were more frequent than they are now, I loved going through Hollywood or Los Angeles and viewing the activity. My father was fond of country driving and I always prayed fervently that our Sunday drives would be through town, but no such luck.......we'd invariably go in the direction of Palmdale where my mother would wax enthusiastic about the moon playing peek-a-boo behind the mountains. Spare me.

T

Tim's home is warm and welcoming, especially at holiday time and it was a joy to see things that once belonged to us before the dismantling of our household........things I'd forgotten we had passed along to him. His poinsettias were robust, ("What's the secret, Tim?" "Buy them right before people are coming over.") the food delicious and he'd even made pomanders.

His electronics fascinated Ryan, but so did the ukelele.

Simple pleasures are sometimes the best, although all evidence is to the contrary. Even Owen knows how to operate the iPad and iPhone.

When it was time to return home, the heavens had opened up and the rain was pouring down, the kind of storm where the driver can't see the lines marking the traffic lanes. No complaints from Tim, though, as he and Tulip squired us back to the Manor.

'The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree:  the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other."  

                                                                   ~Burton Hillis