Hello from my new breakfast spot,
While there is no infamous group of coffee gurus here, there are regulars as with any small town diner. While this place is much more akin to @thenewbloomsburgdiner than Burger King and 12 miles away, it has some really thoughtful mini-breakfasts. The photo above is two of the minis paired into something larger. It is also convenient because the pharmacy I now use, the gas station with the most reasonable prices, and some other places to get necessities are yards or blocks away. To provide some perspective, Mallard, my mailing address, as a little town is not the proverbial one-stoplight town. There is no stoplight. Pocahontas, where I am maybe has a few thousand people, and it is the area school district for a half dozen little grain elevator communities. Emmetsburg is also about 12 miles away the opposite direction and the grocery store with some variety is there. I had some dry cleaning to manage after arrival, and that was a 50 minute drive. So while Bloomsburg was not large, and many lamented its lack of shopping, it felt like a metropolitan Mecca compared to where I am. The city I grew up in is about 100 miles away, and it is 100,000. I am going there yet today. As far as the driving, which can always be of concern in December, the morning is brisk, with temperatures in the teens and the requisite wind (I did not check the windchill), but it is partly cloudy, so manageable.
Last evening, Julie, back from one of her patented trips to be grandma, Gavin, home from a day-long wrestling tournament, and I watched (me for the first time) the 2007 movie Love Actually. I am not sure I can relate to its rather Christmas cultic-status, there are certainly some very heartwarming moments. The season of Advent and the 12 days of Christmas (if considering the liturgical calendar) are not a significant portion of the year (this year a total of 37 days or barely more than 1/10 of the year). And yet the emphasis placed on this last month of the year and less than a week in January, be it commercially, religiously, and societally cannot be overstated. Musicians create Christmas pieces as an obligatory part of their repertoire. Hollywood has, for its entire existence, created and released movies to make optimal money (often into perpetuity). In fact, there are ongoing debates about whether or not something is a holiday movie (e.g. Die Hard, the aforementioned Love Actually, and you can add your own). What is it about tradition and this 5 or so weeks that infatuates us to recall the happiest of memories, to believe that somehow we might turn a new leaf, and to reach into our idealistic-selves, hoping against hope that whatever religious tradition we hold will take hold making us more compassionate, more giving, and simply better people? In my more charitable moments, I believe it represents an essential element of our humanity, that deep down we do have a goodness that compels us to care for the other. I also, however, believe that caring is modeled. It is experiential. It is something that creates a sense of value, something worth sharing with another. That modeling and that experience began early in my life with a grandmother. I have certainly written about her in numerous posts, but her love and care cannot be over stated, never remembered too often. She loved with every fiber of her being. She gave all she had to her grandchildren, to her co-workers (employees), and to her Eastern Star ladies. She had an elegance and goodness to her never paralleled. What I realize some almost a half century later is her elegance, her beauty and goodness radiated because of her kindness. And that kindness and caring, while most apparent to grandchildren during Christmas was never a seasonal thing. Certainly the wrapping, the decorations, the gifting gave it prominence, but it was the way she was regardless the date on the calendar. She is without a doubt, the most influential person when I consider who I have become.
As I continue this blog on the 28th of December it does not go unnoticed to me that my adopted father, who was the cousin of the grandmother I am writing about (there is an interesting family integration – my adopting father and my paternal grandmother as cousins, makes him my father and my fourth cousin – I think I have that correctly.) passed away 27 years ago earlier this morning. He had lived a quarter century following a heart attack, which occurred before angioplasty, bypass, or stents. It was lifestyle change. My father made the changes and lived his life with a sense of appreciation and gratitude that emanated in all he did. It was most evident in his ever-present smile. Perhaps it is not accidental these two were cousins. I wonder how much they were around each other growing up. There was certainly some significant connection because we would be adopted from one household to the other. What is interesting to me now is how little I know about the specifics. Yesterday I was speaking, during dinner, with someone who said how little people wanted their keepsakes. I gently disagreed with them. Perhaps they are correct in the moment, but that does not mean that is static. We are products of our experiences, but we still have agency about what we do with those occurrences, with our circumstances.
I am my Grandmother’s child (in multiple ways) as I think I appreciate Christmas as much as she did. The similarities in wanting to pull out all the stops and making others feel special is something we both relish(ed) doing. I do not believe it possible to be overly generous to another. The words of Scrooge, at the end of Dickens’s Christmas Carol, however, are instructive. After his visitation by the three Spirits, and the realization he did not miss Christmas, he exclaims, “I will honour Christmas with all my heart and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all three shall strive within me.” Each of us has the ability to be transformed as the miserly Ebenezer was. Much like the earlier Scrooge was affected by his loneliness or his lost of a significant other, we can lose our way, bury our goodness, but if we can take the time to reflect, I believe we all have (in my case) those grandmothers, those individuals we can use to model a life, one which is more caring, more giving, more efficacious. There is another irony evident to me as I have composed this blog. My father passed during the week (in terms of the calendar date) my sister and I would have been at my grandmother’s house. Indeed, two decades later, but during that calendar week nonetheless.
Over the past 24 hours I have been blessed to spend some time with a former student, their parents, and their two children. What an incredible gift they all are. The children are polite, intelligent, and fabulous. They give me hope. They are the children of their parent; that is readily apparent across the board. My former student, to whom I have been fortunate enough to have a relationship half their life, is beyond tremendous. There are honestly not enough positive adjectives to describe them. They have become an exemplar of what would ever hope for a parent. The love and care they exude is unconditional. It is a continuous joy to have them in my life. The kindness the parents continue to show me is yet another gift. My profession allowed me a profound opportunity to meet people and have some sense of entree into their lives. This was a gift given to me, and something I will never forget. The care that travels both directions is life-changing. Much like my own personal version of Dickens’s important story, but all year long.
As the year’s end is rapidly approaching, it is my wish that the care we seem to offer so readily during this season might become a way of living for us all. Imagine the change or how different our world might be. A couple weeks ago, I was fortunate to see Pentatonix in concert again. This is their version of that infamous song by John Lennon. I do not believe I appreciated Lennon’s insight nearly enough earlier in my life. Imagine if we cared all year long.
I wish you a year of love and caring, and thank you for reading, as always.
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 