One at a Time

I read an article about multitasking which said that if you think you can do more than one thing a time you are delusional. I tend to agree. Even computers are only capable of alternating activities so quickly that it appears they are doing two different things at the same time. People can’t effectively do that. Another study on the subject of multitasking asked some people who felt they were the exceptions to the rule to participate in a study. What was interesting was the people who were most confident of effective multitasking were proven to be the worst.

There really isn't anything wrong with doing one thing at a time. Do you really think you can talk on the phone, read a book and answer your email at the same time effectively? I even know some people who try to do all of that and add a conversation in with it. Not so good. What they do is irritate anyone attempting to communicate with them equally. Many of those people will even assist you in finishing your sentences and will know what you mean before you even get to the point.

Not a lot in the world has changed that much over the last two or three hundred years when it comes to understanding or giving instructions. There is one source for information and one receptor of information. It takes some time to process the information and some more time to apply the information.

I know, you think you are different and maybe you are, but I doubt it. If you are sitting down for dinner at Ruth’s Chris Steak house and about to cut into a piece of Kobe beef that should be the only thing on your mind. When you put the beef in your mouth experiencing the texture, aroma and taste should occur one at a time and blend into a total experience as you bite into the meat. If you cannot do that you are wasting your money. Have a Big Mac and be done with it.

The great things in life take all of your attention just for a while. If you do not understand that it’s perfectly OK. I’m not talking to you anyway. But, I will offer this well used phrase that I used with my children when they told me a task was too overwhelming to do. I would ask them how they would eat an elephant. You know the answer, "One bite at a time."

Happy New Year!

Herb Ratliff, December 31, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Christmas and the Bliss Park Archer

This year one of my grandson’s got a bow and arrow for Christmas. He was pretty excited. Visions of Robin Hood danced in my head. There I was in the forest of Sherwood eating venison cooked on a spit and laughing at the ineptness of the Sheriff of Nottingham. As I sat by the fire with my merry men I remembered the Christmas I got my first bow and arrows. It was a glorious day.

The Christmas buildup had hit the “molasses lap”, that easing up to Christmas Eve which took so long to accomplish. It was a time that seemed to mire in molasses up to your knees that had cooled to a point that allowed almost no movement. The excitement was nearing a crescendo and it was just out of reach.

With five sisters and me in a one bedroom house with conservative parents we were pretty much a “one gift” operation. Each of us got a fair amount of input regarding the gift but there were no guarantees. And while locating and getting an early look at the gifts was possible it would seal the door on expectation and end speculation that the impossible might happen. I was always caught in a quandary over that one. The few times I gave in to the desire to know ended the magic too soon and so I decided not to give up hope in favor of knowledge.

On Christmas morning I was over the top when I saw the long narrow package. I opened it slowly. When there is just one package it is approached with respect and careful measure of enjoying the moment versus ending the expectation. Even knowing what it was did not change the visions of hunting in the woods or standing bare-chested facing the wind on a butte in the western sky of Montana.

The rush of satisfaction lifted me to new heights. I asked permission to go to Bliss Park, an oak filled recreation area about four blocks from my house. Permission granted but, “Don’t lose the arrows.”

“OK, mom, dad. See you later.”

I saddled my trusty steed, a Schwinn, and put my bow and quiver of arrows on my back. As I rode toward the park I could feel my vision sharpen and my stalking skills awaken. It would be a good day.

After arriving at the park and noting it was empty of other humans I surveyed the area for game. There was a plethora of squirrels. I lashed my ride to the hitching post and strung the bow, then began a stalk that would have made Straight Arrow proud. After seconds, perhaps even a minute I took my first shot at a squirrel about thirty feet up a tree. The arrow lodged in the crotch of the tree and would not touch earth for days. No problem I had more arrows, two to be exact. In less than ten minutes I had lost all three arrows and shattered my dream of bringing home buffalo robes for the entire family.

No matter, there would be more arrows. I could make them myself. What enterprising archer would let a small thing like that slow his enthusiasm for the hunt? Dealing with the pointing fingers of my parents would be another matter. But I could take it.

Christmas from the Loge

Sit beside me for a moment,

Let me hold your hand,

take a breath,

close your eyes,

Smell the pine,

It's Christmastime.

The fire's blaze is softening now

the embers will take over

so while the warmth

caresses us

Let's caress each other.

The train set is another's job

that's not for us to do

we'll watch them play

and scurry fast

That's what is left to do.

I loved each toy I put together

I savored every moment

Well maybe not so much

right then, you know

But now ....

And don't you think I didn't know

how carefully you planned

each moment, every hour

And how your touch

your smile, your voice

Gave Christmas so much power.

Merry Christmas.

©Herb Ratliff, December 14, 2011, All Rights Reserved.

Charity, Christmas and an Angel

I got this from a friend that I have known since I was a child. I have no personal proof of it's truth but I find the story full of truth.
Merry Christmas
Herb

I would like to share with you a Christmas story that was shared in a meeting last week in the Training Zone. The story is written by Tamara Stitt and is an account from the diary of her great grandmother. She presented this account at a  Christmas Party in Rexburg, Idaho in December of 1990. The story is true.

"The true meaning of Christmas is charity. And the true meaning of charity is the unconditional love of Christ, which is the unconditional love of our fellowman. My great-grandmother, Beth, left me this story, which has had a tremendous impact on my life. She kept a detailed journal and this entry took place in the year 1900...

Carl, my great-grandfather was a rough, tough old trapper man who homesteaded what's called Burnscreek, Idaho, which is 15 miles above Heise, above Kelly Canyon. He took a team of horses and a sleigh and he built the road that you travel on today. He trapped furs for a living and sent them back east to Boston every fall, and every fall the fur trader in Boston would send him a check for the furs that he had received, until the year 1896, the fur trader had no money. But he was a man of honor so instead of sending him money, he sent him his 17 year old daughter as a mail-order bride and she was to become my great-grandmother. I think the reason she kept such a detailed journal is that's the only way she kept her sanity, as she wrote how badly she hated Burnscreek, Idaho. What a cultural shock it was from Boston, Massachusetts, and how she never could quite forgive her father for doing this to her.

In December 1900, when she made this entry in her journal she was 24 years old and pregnant with her fourth child. She wrote that she had asked Carl to take the remaining furs to the valley and trade them for the things she'd asked for in her Christmas list. She was embarrassed at how much she had wanted that year, for on her list she'd asked for three things: peppermint, chocolate, and a little piece of yard goods to make her only little girl a dress for Christmas.

She wrote that Carl had heartily agreed to take the furs to the valley and to trade them for supplies and for the items on her Christmas list. He told her that he would be home early on Christmas Eve morning and that he would bring with him a tree that he would stop and chop for his children. He left her in fine shape with lots of wood chopped and that the only thing she needed to do every day was to go out to the barn and milk the old cow.

The first day was delightful. They made ornaments for the tree that their father would bring home. They also made Christmas pudding. Late that night a tremendous storm hit the mountain. It snowed and it blowed like nothing she had ever seen before. The storm did not subside until early on Christmas Eve morning. When it finally died down enough that she could hear herself think, the wind was still howling, but she could hear that poor old cow in the barn bellowing to be milked.

She wrote how she tried to get the front door of the cabin open and physically pushed and worked for one hour and ten minutes. She could not get the door open. She knew that something must have frozen on it from the outside. Even though logic told her to stay calm, she panicked and she took the axe from beside the hearth and chopped the hinges off the door to slide the door over. She was faced with a tremendous ice strip that had fallen off the top of the cabin, so she took her axe and shopped a hole through it, big enough that she might step out to the other side. She couldn't believe the devastation that the storm had left, how high the drifts were, and how hard it was still snowing, and how hard the wind was still blowing.

She could hear that poor old cow in the barn bellowing to be milked, what empathy she had for it. She said that she was afraid that she couldn't make it out to the barn herself and back again. So she tied one end of a rope to the doorstop and one to her waist and started out towards the barnyard. She got less than a few yards when she realized that being with child she dare not go any farther because the snow was over waist deep, so she stopped in her tracks and said a silent prayer to her Heavenly Father that Carl would hurry home early that day and that the poor old cow might forgive her.

She spent the rest of the day waiting for Carl in great anticipation...Christmas Eve came and ...went and Carl had not returned home. She was just about to put three cranky children to bed when she heard someone outside the cabin. They all rushed to the door where she slid if off its hinges once again to peer out the little hole of ice.

She anticipated seeing Carl. She wrote how her heart sunk, for there on the other side of her doorstep stood the dirtiest, straggliest old trapper she had ever seen. But to three little children on Christmas Eve, an old man with red long johns, a long white beard, a tree in one hand, and a pack over his back, was a most welcome sight in their home. Those children gleefully explained, "See Mother, Santa did find Burnscreek, Idaho after all!"

She said that he looked at her and must have felt her great anticipation of where her husband was, and felt her hesitation at letting him into her house so he stared her straight in the eye and said, "Beth, don't be afraid. Carl's at Table Rock at Spaulding's trapper cabin with a lame horse." He said, "I was out on snowshoes this night and told him I was going to check my own lines and that I'd stop off and tell you that he was alright, that he'd be home early in the morning and bring you this straggly old tree and this pack that he'd sent from the valley."

So she brought him in the house and fed him stew from her fire. She wrote he helped set up the tree and helped the children decorate it. She judged him to be a man of fine character because he could recite the story of Christ's birth by heart from the Bible. He carried the children to bed and helped her putout her meager Christmas gifts. The old trapper chopped more firewood and milked the cow. he told her he had no family of his own, but  thanked her sincerely for letting him spend such a wonderful Christmas Eve with her family. He asked if it might be all right if he spent the night in the barn and he would leave early in the morning to go on up Black's Canyon to check his traps. She told him only on one condition, that he join them in the morning for Christmas breakfast. He heartily agreed, thanking her once again before retiring to the barn.

She wrote that that was the very first time  she'd had a chance to look inside the old, worn, leather pack that had been sent by Carl. She went to bed a happy woman, for there inside the bag was peppermint, chocolate, and little piece of yard goods. She woke up the next morning to the children's gleeful sounds underneath her tree and it grew late into the morning before she realized that the old trapper had not joined them.

Just as she was going to the barnyard she noticed Carl was coming over the horizon. They all gathered at the front door to welcome their father home in wild anticipation and to tell him, "We have Santa locked in the barn!" Carl looked stern and tired and sent the children into the house. He asked her who was in the barn. She said, "Well, Carl, it was just the old trapper who came last night and brought me the tree and the pack and to tell me that you would be home early this morning."

He said, "I never even made it to the valley. I made it as far as Table Rock when the storm hit, and I went to Spaulding's trapper's cabin and tied my horse to a tree. Another old trapper had tried to water his horse at the river and had fallen through the ice. It took three of us to fish him out, and we could tell he was a goner but we took him into the cabin and rolled him in blankets, and laid him by the fire and stayed with him until early on Christmas Eve when the storm broke. We hesitated and pondered what to do, but all three of us were anxious to get to the valley so that we could return home to our families on Christmas Eve. So we stoked up the fire a little, wrapped him a little tighter, and left him lying in front of the fire.

We saddled up our horses and started down the lane.  I got less than a few hundred yards when a tremendous feeling came over me that I could not leave that old man alone on Christmas Eve to die. I sent the other two trappers on to the valley and I returned to the old boy where I held his head in my lap. Once in a while when he would regain consciousness. I would tell him about you and about my children and how much I loved them and how disappointed you'd be that I never made it to the valley to get the peppermint, the chocolate or the little piece of yard goods that you'd so desperately wanted for Christmas. Early on Christmas Eve night the old boy died in my arms, but it was too late for me to come home so I waited until today."

She said right at this particular moment she couldn't understand what was happening to her as she ran to the barn to show Carl that there was an old boy in the barn. So Carl followed her out, showing her that there was no man in the barn and there were no snowshoe tracks. She stopped, she pondered, and she prayed, and she got a wonderful peaceful feeling as she said to Carl, "I read in the Bible once that when you show charity to a fellow man, Heavenly Father sometimes lets you entertain an angel in your home. (Hebrews 13: 1-2) Carl, I think I had a blessing last night to entertain an angel underneath your roof."

Carl scoffed at her and told her there had been no angel in his home, until she took him by the hand and led him into their home. She showed him the tree and underneath the tree she pulled out an old worn leather saddle bag, and inside showed him a small bit of peppermint, chocolate and a little piece of yard goods.

Sixty years later, in 1960, great-grandmother was at my parents house when she died on Christmas Day. I was just a little girl and my great-grandmother left me her diary, this story, and a little piece of yard goods wrapped in white tissue paper with a note, 'This is never to be used.' It was fabric from an angel and a reminder that true charity and the true love of Christ was to be shown 365 days a year."

Herb Ratliff, December 21. 2012

Ed Ricketts - On Gifts

The real gift in life sometimes is how we accept the bounty of others. That is often why children are the favorite targets for gifts, they receive them well. And so for Christmas let us remember how to accept the gifts others have so carefully selected for us.

In this excerpt, John Steinbeck eulogizes his recently deceased friend, Ed Ricketts, who was the real-life model for the character Doc in Steinbeck's novel, Cannery Row:

"I have tried to isolate and inspect the great talent that was in Ed Ricketts, that made him so loved and needed and makes him so missed now that he is dead. Certainly he was an interesting and charming man, but there was some other quality that far exceeded these. I have thought that it might be his ability to receive, to receive anything from anyone, to receive gracefully and thankfully, and to make the gift seem very fine. Because of this everyone felt good in giving to Ed--a present, a thought, anything.

"Perhaps the most overrated virtue in our list of shoddy virtues is that of giving. Giving builds up the ego of the giver, makes him superior and higher and larger than the receiver. ... It is so easy to
give, so exquisitely rewarding. Receiving, on the other hand, if it is well-done, requires a fine balance of self-knowledge and kindness. It requires humility and tact and great understanding of relationships. In receiving, you cannot appear, even to yourself, better or stronger or wiser than the giver, although you must be wiser to do it well.

"It requires self-esteem to receive--not self-love but just a pleasant acquaintance and liking for oneself."

John Steinbeck, The Log from the Sea of Cortez, Appendix, "About Ed Ricketts", Penguin Books, 1951, pp. 272-3.

Herb Ratliff, December 20, 2012

Kith and Kin

I love my children as much as I am capable of loving. I have watched them from the time they were born to the time they became parents and began to feel a love for someone else the way I did when they were born. Being a parent is a gift as well as a responsibility. Nothing can lift you or take you to your knees faster than a child. I wouldn't trade that privilege for anything.

Yesterday I had an attack of parental pride and thanks that surprised me. It just seemed like all at once I missed them the same way I did the first time they went away for a couple of days. Having them out of reach was a consummate thought; just being able to feel them in the same space would have made me feel complete.

As I went through those thoughts and feelings I knew that my parents felt that way about me at some point. I knew that when they did I had no idea what they were feeling. I also knew that I when they were missing me, I was laying the groundwork for me to miss my own in a few years.  My focus was on my family and my children. That is where it belonged.

There is no perfect way to manage the relationships we have with our families. Some families seem like they have it down to a fine science. Some seem happy and delightful all of the time. I think sometimes all of that supposed happiness others have is a wish that I have and not a reality. Even so, there is nothing quite as joyous as being with kith and kin during this magical time of the year.

I have four children: Dora, Bud, Julie and Lindsay. I have twelve grandchildren: Corey, Nick, Lindsay, Kirkland, Skylar, Logan, Keaton, Brayden, Joshua, Zachary, Xander and Zoe, ten boys and two sweet girls. Now that is a bunch and they are all beautiful, handsome, intelligent, clever, talented and a part of me. I love them all. I won’t see all of them during this holiday season but I will feel the joy of knowing them and the time I have spent with them. I can also say that for my parents and siblings. I know you can too.

Merry Christmas everyone.

©Herb Ratliff, December 19, 2012, All Rights Reserved

All I Want for Christmas

One Christmas many years ago, I was thirteen; the world was firmly in the grips of a budding love affair with Elvis Presley. A lot of presents on Christmas lists had something to do with this new icon, for me it was blue suede shoes.

I come from a large family by some standards. There were two parents and six offspring. One of the offspring was a boy, that was me. The other five were girls, that was a lot of people interested in the use of our single bathroom. That’s not really what this story is about but I thought I’d acknowledge the obvious.

Planning for Christmas presents must have been an interesting operation in the executive offices of our house. Dad worked two jobs to support our financial requirements and mother ran the outfit from her home office. A request for particular presents was standard procedure. Acquiring said requests was another matter.

Santa Claus was always an option if writing was your strength but persuading the purchasing agent typically would yield better results. Laying the proper foundation for requests was critical. Timing was very important and so was one’s most recent history of behavior. Dropping hints to mom after doing something noteworthy was good and so was carrying out regular chores in a timely manner.

If you wanted something special it was useful to perform some act that would ingratiate you with the purser. So when the request was made for blue suede shoes all of the surrounding niceties had been accomplished. The request was granted but there was a caveat. The price of the shoes was a bit beyond the budgeted per child expenditure, so it would have to be the only item in Santa’s bag. I agreed and the negotiation was successful.

Christmas morning felt pretty lean as I sat by the tree with only one gift but the gift was definitely a winner.

When friends asked what I got for Christmas I would say, “Blue Suede Shoes”.

When they asked what else I said, “You know, just the regular stuff.”

The implication was other less important stuff. That was true, in a way. Anyway, I got the shoes and I added a little cool to my resume. At least, I thought I had. I hope you get what you want for Christmas. I hope what you give isn’t limited to what can be bought. The gifts you have to share with friends and family are priceless, be generous.

©Herb Ratliff, December 18, 2012, All Rights Reserved

The Messiah

I have had a long love affair with Handel's Messiah. Going to see it performed during the holidays is a standard objective every year. Typically it is an objective I meet, but for the last two years I have fallen short and unless something happens very soon I am about to miss it for the third year and it makes me very sad to go that long without having a chance to lift my untrained voice with the trained ones and rejoice aloud in an explosion of gratitude for being alive and in good health.

I am fascinated by the effect of the music. There is nothing else that so resonates with me the purest form of communion with God. I set aside all of my religious prejudices and attitudes for the chance to achieve an unparalleled harmony that lifts me into a heightened awareness of the remarkable gift of life.
It is not a surprise to me that Handel composed the Messiah in 24 days. If he felt what I do listening to it, when he was writing it, the sheer force of ecstasy would have consumed him if it had been a long, drawn out process.

I had an opportunity, that is a story all by itself, to sit with The Mormon Tabernacle Choir when they performed  The Messiah a long time ago. I was not a member of the choir but they told me to sing if I wished and believe me, I did. I can't imagine how you could avoid singing under such circumstances. I will never forget that. So, I suppose that may explain some of my enthusiasm for the music.

I do wish all of you a Merry Christmas. This is a magical time. Give and receive gifts generously and give thanks often. Enjoy! Thank you, Herr Handel.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_VARtvgGBY&feature=related

Herb Ratliff, December 23, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Delta is Ready When You are

In my work I used to travel a lot by air. This time of year the traveling was problematic. There were inevitably those who were completely out of control with the idea of getting their stuff and their offspring from point a to point b without losing anything or anyone. There were always many business travelers who were trying to finish their work and get home to help with the last minute details. The senior members of the airline staff were usually on leave and so many of the employees who rested on lower rungs of the ladder were called to duty. And, as you would expect, there were travelers with the joy and spirit of Christmas and those who could find a way to have a bad day at Disneyland. Part of the way I kept my heavy travel schedule manageable was by finding a way to enjoy what I was doing when I did it.

I remember a late flight one year close to Christmas when I had been the happy recipient of plate full of beautifully decorated Christmas cookies at the last minute. I had no way of putting them in any of my luggage so they were in my hands when I boarded. The lines were long and slow so there was a lot of standing and waiting while boarding. At one point I found myself standing in front of the flight attendant that stands in front of the cockpit and greets the oncoming passengers. I offered her a cookie and she accepted it so quickly I could see she was very hungry, so I offered the whole plate to her and said she could share them with the other staff. She beamed and accepted without hesitation.

When the plane was fully boarded, we taxied off to our runway, took off and reached altitude. The pilot announced the seat belt sign had been turned off and we could walk about the cabin. After he had finished the flight attendant I had given the cookies to came to me and asked me to follow her. She took me to first class, went and got my carry on and brought it to me and said. "Merry Christmas, Sir. You have no idea how nice it is to have a passenger who is giving instead of demanding. Have a nice flight and if there is anything I can do to make your flight more comfortable please just ask."

There is a lot of power in cookies

Herb Ratliff, December 22, 2011, All Rights Reserved

My First Poem

To you I’d send a dew dropped rose

That glistens in its quiet repose,

The fragrance of a piney forest,

The singing from a thrushes nest.

To you I’d send a winter’s day,

The dawning at the break of day,

The fluffy down from a Robin’s breast,

The silence of a fawn at rest.

The softness of a summer rain

To all but us is naught, in vain.

We see the beauty in these things

To all the rest they’re tarnished rings.

Your beauty‘s in your lovely smile

The purity that can’t beguile

Your honest heart will not betray

The things we do and share today.

©Herb Ratliff, December 26, 196?, All Rights Reserved

Author's Note: 

The poem was written in response to what I thought was an original poem from a college sweetheart. It was handwritten inside a Christmas Card. It turned out the poem she sent had been copied. There was no intention of deception. She simply found a beautiful poem to send that she thought communicated her feelings. I felt compelled to write an original back to her and this poem was the poem, the first I ever wrote. It served to stimulate my inclination to write original prose and poetry. I'm grateful I misunderstood. Without this misunderstanding I doubt I would have been inclined to write. So, it's my favorite poem, but I have never titled it. Any suggestions? Herb

Yuletide Turbulence

That's the magnificent seven three years ago.

Monday and Tuesday evening I heard three of my grandsons perform in concerts with their school bands. The music was remarkable. Two of the boys, Zachary and Logan are in the seventh grade. They play in the same band. The music was outstanding. The skill level of the participants is far superior to band members of my era and the music selections were well designed to showcase their talent. They played on Monday.

Tuesday evening two more grandsons had concerts. Kirkland, who is in High School, had a concert I missed because of a lack of communication and a conflict. He played at the same time Joshua played. I only heard of Kirkland’s concert the night before and had already committed to attending Joshua’s concert. It takes some planning to work out a schedule and in the rush, information about dates, which is critical to a plan never reached me in time to make a more inclusive plan.

I went to Joshua’s concert. It was outstanding. He attends a Magnet School and has a concert band that is performing at a near professional level. The quality of the performance was so much better than I expected, I was overwhelmed.

That accounts for four of seven grandsons who live in the immediate environs. Lindsay, my daughter and mother to five of them spurted out something about more activities Monday night, but it was lost in the noise and confusion of the aftermath of the concert. So I still don’t know what or when the other three do their performances.

I have three more grandchildren in Seattle that are not in the scurry because of logistics. My eldest child, Dora is their mother and she is currently starring as, Mary in a stage production of “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

My son lives in Midway, Kentucky, near Lexington. His children, Xander and Zoe’s activities are unknown to me and they are inaccessible as well logistically. So there you have it, the tale of twelve grandchildren in various states of communication, confusion and comedy.

We are less than two weeks away from Christmas. Let’s not forget that so much of what we do in preparation for the holidays is for our family. In our haste sometimes we run over the top of them getting it done. Slow down and enjoy those beautiful people and enjoy the beautiful person you are too.

©Herb Ratliff, December 12, 2012, All Rights Reserved

The Gift Challenge

I remember working my way into a corner one Christmas. I had a specific item that I wanted above all and made it clear that nothing else would do. There was a strange look on my parents faces when I confronted them with this ultimatum and ended it with the closing argument of: "If I cannot have that, I want nothing at all." There was some short, gentle persuasion from them asking me to reconsider my position but,  I would not budge. Finally, they conceded the argument and there it was, a line drawn in the sand not to be challenged. I doubt I will ever forget Christmas morning that year. After all the gifts had been distributed, opened and clean up was under way, I still was without a gift. I had younger sisters and so there was no forum for argument. There was only the clear message that my ultimatum had been honored. I had nothing.


If we are diligent in our measure of things it will become evident that we are among the most blessed people on the planet and live in a kind of favorable bubble of generosity. Many will find areas to complain about, others will find injustice, still more will find inequity and so there will be sour attitudes in abundance. But, do not be deluded into believing that you are an unfortunate beggar of alms in the town square. What we have as members of a free society is priceless.

As you consider your lot this Christmas, exercise caution in your demands, both spoken and whispered. You may get what you say you must have. I wish you bounty, blessings, and enough to share with others less fortunate. It costs nothing to look with kindness on another, a squeeze of the hand, a hug perhaps would lift someone's spirits or your undivided attention for a few minutes. Be generous in your giving and your receiving.

Herb Ratliff, December 16, 2011 - All Rights Reserved

Hiding Christmas Cookies

My mother would begin baking cookies for Christmas not too long after Thanksgiving. She baked them during the day when Dad was working and the rest of us were at school. She left no evidence of her activities and made no comments that would alert us. And, she hid them. She hid them all over the place and she must have really enjoyed it too because she did it for many years including the years that I was gone to college.

Somewhere along the way I discovered this activity and would systematically purloin the cached bounty but did it carefully so as not to alert anyone looking at the goods by moving the cookies around to suggest an untouched appearance. It was a good job but not good enough to fool the baker. And so began a cat and mouse game of hiding and snitching that lasted until after I was married. It was even mentioned during visits to the nursing facility where mom spent her last few years.

Last night I made some Christmas cookies and since I live alone there was no reason to hide any of them. They  sit willfully tempting in tin containers in the kitchen. But as I made them, frosted them and tucked them into the tins for later enjoyment I thought of mom and the Christmases past when she would make them for me and hide them and hope that I would find them.

©Herb Ratliff, December 8, 2011, All Rights Reserved

A Christmas Reminder

There’s an elf in the closet, reindeer on the roof,

Wreathes are on door ways, and candles, it’s proof

That Christmas is coming right now on a sleigh

So you’d better get ready before it goes away.

No, it doesn't matter how children reach bed,

whether nestled or wrestled in pink or in red

cuz Santa is coming to bring us some joy:

an apple, some candy, maybe even a toy.

But you have to be good, put a smile on your face

When the Jolly old fellow, without soot, not a trace

Slides down the chimney, with giggles and grins

knows without question which house he is in.

Did you put out some cookies, milk or cocoa?

A wee little bribe cannot hurt, don’t you know?

And besides, it’s much better ere he goes out of sight

that his Christmas and yours are both a good night.

Merry Christmas to all, it's a sight.

©Herb Ratliff, December, 7, 2012, All Rights Reserved

little tree

Even though this blog is by design an effort in original discourse, sometimes I get tired of the sound of my own voice even though it's written not spoken. When that happens there are plenty of authors whose work I deeply appreciate. e.e. cummings is one of them. So today I offer his lovely little poem, "little tree". Enjoy!

Herb

by: e.e. cummings (1894-1962)

little tree

little silent Christmas tree

you are so little

you are more like a flower

who found you in the green forest

and were you very sorry to come away?

see i will comfort you

because you smell so sweetly

i will kiss your cool bark

and hug you safe and tight

just as your mother would,

only don't be afraid

look the spangles

that sleep all the year in a dark box

dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,

the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,

put up your little arms

and i'll give them all to you to hold

every finger shall have its ring

and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy

then when you're quite dressed

you'll stand in the window for everyone to see

and how they'll stare!

oh but you'll be very proud

and my little sister and i will take hands

and looking up at our beautiful tree

we'll dance and sing

"Noel Noel"

"little tree" was originally published in The Dial Vol. LXVIII, No. 1 (Jan. 1920). New York: The Dial Publishing Company, Inc.


--
Herb Ratliff,
whathappenedtosports.blogspot.com

The Most Unselfish Gift

The Christmas this year would not be very memorable, I thought as I considered the serious lack of funds to supply the lavish things I wanted for my family. Christmas is not about expensive gifts, I countered, but I didn't believe it. All I could think of were packages under the tree, gleeful children and a grateful wife looking at me with admiration for being such a wonderful provider. The truth was I had not been a wonderful provider; there would not be an endless supply of richly decorated gifts for those I loved. There was scarcely enough to meet our daily needs let alone excessive indulgences to satisfy my selfish ambition.

I had seriously limited the Christmas budget for my wife. I held out a little for myself to give her a small gift but insisted there was not enough for us to exchange gifts. So I insisted she not spend any on a gift for me. Since she was not working, she had no means of income and was unable to argue. I didn’t realize the selfishness of that maneuver for years, when I think of it now I am ashamed of my self serving attitude. Youth and ego is a clumsy pair at times.

I found a way to ignore the unhappy situation and moved through the pre Christmas days as well as I could. We attended holiday parties with friends, did some caroling and planned family activities. There is a magical quality during this season that seems to be able to amplify the smallest acts of kindness and muffle the most thoughtless ones. On Christmas eve during the day I went to a jeweler and bought a gold bracelet for my wife. I still remember not feeling good about it. Not that it was something she wouldn’t want; it was that even then I knew she would have rather had the money to use for the children.

I’ll never forget Christmas morning that year. The children were happy. They didn’t care what they got. What they loved was the excitement of the tree, the lights, expectations and an endless supply of gifts from family and friends. When I gave my lady her gift she opened it with a questioning face. When she saw the gold bracelet there were instantly tears in her eyes, not from joy but from being deceived. Tears for being mislead, tears because we had not joined together in this moment, tears because she had found a way to keep our agreement and not give up the right to offer me a gift and I had not. I would soon find a deeper lesson in this exchange.

It took a bit for her to gather herself but she did. Then, she looked at me with something that contained sorrow, anger and a lot of hurt. She reached under the tree and took several small packages in her hands. She looked deeply in my eyes when she handed them to me.

I opened the first package. It was a small tin that had contained tea. The tin had been covered with pictures taken from a National Geographic magazine article. The other packages were of various sizes but with the same theme. I have always been fascinated with spiders. My wife had always been terrified by them. That Christmas she gave me the gift of a lifetime. She subdued her fear to give me a gift that I shall never forget. She spent no money but hours of her precious time to make me happy.

As the day of gifts grows more near it would be wise to remember that exchange of gifts. There is still time to use your love, your imagination and your creativity to make a gift for someone you love. And when you give it to them you can both stand on equal footing with the knowledge that you are giving from the same place and that is the real gift.

©Herb Ratliff, December 5, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Christmas Eve Memories

In the corner of the closet

by some shoes that have no laces

sits a pair of golden slippers

and a picture with eight faces

There’s the mommy and the daddy

sisters Jo and Lyn and Judy

In the background is the kitchen,

Then, there’s Bev and Pam and me.

In the hands of our good father

is the bible turned to Matthew

Mother holds a burning candle

Givng light for Dad to read

It’s the story of a couple and a child

that have no shelter, who need a bed

and some cattle gently lowing

But there’s no fear, not here, no dread.

There are people gathered round them

dressed in clothes of finest silk

bearing gifts of gold and myrrh

But the babe drinks mothers milk.

There’s a part about some taxes,

and a reference to a star.

There’s a choir of holy angels

singing carols where they are.

This is Christmas and the Christ child

come to save this crazy world

bringing hope and love and laughter

that’s what the season’s for.

Merry Christmas every body

May your every dream come true.

May the love that you pass out

be redoubled back to you.

©Herb Ratliff, December 4, 2012, All Rights Reserved

One Little Tree

When it comes, I’m not ready, too early,

 it’s just commercial hype.

Where are the Wise Men?

Where is the star?

The babe in the manger

must be awake from all the noise.

There’s no lowing in Walmart

and sleeping on hay,

at least here in Georgia,

would invite an

infestation of ticks.

Silent Night, Holy Night

were the words

and the buildup was more gradual,

a bit of a pause after Thanksgiving,

then, slowly, ever so slowly,

Christmas would ease

its way to our homes.

Gaudy isn’t Godly

and this is about

a savior being born,

remember?

If you are a kid

you can be lost in the letters to Santa

that’s OK.

But, don’t forget the

Magi

or

The Gift Of The Magi.

We all are

getting something special,

don’t worry about

whether batteries are included

worry about the energy

you give off.

Worry about those

who continue to

need

while the rest of us

exceed.

You

can be

a little

Christmas Tree

with only one light

but shine brightly, shine big.

©Herb Ratliff, December 3, 2012, All Rights Reserved