A Guide to Better a Christmas
In case you have forgotten how to make the season right, the North Side Boys have thoughtfully prepared a few guidelines. Follow them all and they guarantee a Merry Christmas.
TOYS FOR EVERYONE: No matter how old or young, people still like toys. Paddle-ball or expensive stereo; make sure everyone gets a toy and Christmas will be better.
DECORATE: The minimum is a tiny tree. If you won't put up at least a picture, you deserve to be miserable. Other than that, the more you do, the more fun you and everyone else will have.
LOVE THE ONE YOU'RE WITH: It's hard, but the best way to honor those you miss by death or distance is to spread joy to the ones you have. Find somebody and share something.
COOK: Special food makes everything special. Take the time to make something. Become famous in your family for some dish. If you can't cook buy something and say you did it.
HELP SOMEBODY: Volunteer for something or just be nice to friend. You won't have Christmas unless you find a way to help somebody.
FAMILY IS #1: If you have a choice, opt to be with your family. Forgive and forget.
REASON FOR THE SEASON HAS A PLACE: In an era when people have given up on our major institutions, church included, Christmas has to be more than gifts and good feelings or you miss the point.
SURPRISE: One surprise gift is a must. Be generous and go for it.
MAKE ONE PRESENT: Make one gift by hand— bake it, saw it, sketch it, sew it or write it; just do it.
HOLDING AND TOUCHING: Break out the mistletoe and use it. Christmas is for touching.
ENJOY: Attitude is everything. Enjoy your chance to go to lots of parties or cook for the family. Enjoy having a 1,000 things to do. Enjoy being tired and still having a list. Hospitals and nursing homes are filled with folk who would give anything to trade places with you.
BE A GOOD “GETTER:” Giving may be better than receiving, but it's close. When you get something, please appreciate that somebody gave you something. Show some joy!
SING: Go caroling if you can. Go to the church musical; put on some Christmas music; it will soothe the savage beast in you when you start to frazzle.
START TRADITIONS: Collect Santa's, pewter goblets, Teddy bears or coffee mugs. Have a traditional family toast, read the Christmas story or do advent wreaths. Create the traditions that will carry you through the hard times.
TELL FAMILY STORIES: Gather everyone around and tell about Grandpa when he was young or Christmas long ago. Kids will listen.
GAG GIFTS: give at least one each year and watch the fun begin (DO NOT HURT ANOTHER”S FEELINGS!).
SPECIAL THINGS: Parents (children), dig through the old photo albums and find pictures of you with your child (parents). Have one enlarged and framed and give it to you son or daughter (parents). Write, “I love you” on it.
SHARE YOUR BLESSINGS: The person who dies with the most toys is still dead.
NEW PAJAMAS: Every kid should have brand new pajamas to wear to bed on Christmas Eve
HAVE THE COURAGE TO PLAN: Somebody has to get things going. Make a plan and see what happens. Draw names, go skating, cut a tree, string popcorn; do something with your kin. Merry Christmas!
Showing posts with label stroytelling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stroytelling. Show all posts
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Two-lane blacktop across Kansas
It was a hail of a trip!
Thinking it would prove more scenic and maybe save some time, my son and I left the safe and reliable interstate and decided to take two-lane blacktop across Kansas on our trip to Phoenix and Tucson.
At Wichita we turned west and took old Highway 54 heading for Tucumcari, New Mexico where we would again hook up with the Interstate system.
Our plan when we left Wichita, just after 5:30 PM, was to drive to Liberal, Kansas where we would find a hotel and spend the night.
The detour would be more than across Kansas however; we would detour through time, too. I would tell my son about other days and times when all roads were two lane, the pace was slower and filled with old barns, and small towns.
Driving into the night across Kansas is a Missouri tradition. We are usually on or way to Colorado and the mountains, and Kansas is an annoyance at best.
On this night however, with a generally full moon shining in the driver’s side widow from the south, Kansas turned spacious with farm house and grain elevator etchings along the horizon.
Radio stations in this part of Kansas carry the full spectrum of music; they had country and western music.
Grain and hog prices, and radio garage sales, joined static to complete the spectrum of wireless entertainment. Crossing Kansas at night on Highway 54 becomes an endless repetition of white lines, telephone poles, all night Pepsi machines, and empty spaces.
I drove and we talked. We remembered our other trips.
Because I was lucky enough to be a schoolteacher, I had time in the summers to take trips. Zach, and then Matthew, and I drove off to Niagara Falls, New Orleans, Seattle, Atlanta and all points in between. Sometimes we made up our route according to whim and the state’s color on the map.
We followed two basic rules. We slept only in motels with a swimming pool and ate hamburgers at least once a day. It does not take much more that that to keep kids happy.
That night across Kansas, our actual conversation is already fading in time. We talked about graduate school, music, the Royals, Republican bad breath, and ancient history. I told him about all those drives across Kansas on Highway 36 until I noticed he was sleeping.
At midnight we made Liberal, Kansas. The main attraction in Liberal is Dorothy's House and a theme park dedicated to the Wizard of Oz. The house is a replica of the original used on the set of the famous movie.
Tonight however, the main attraction was the Holiday Inn Express. Located off the main the drag, we had to cross the river and follow a labyrinth of bad signage to get there.
The Holiday Inn Express was not open. It looked like it had been bombed. Actually, a hailstorm had wrecked the place and most of Liberal Kansas. Roofers, Insurance Agent, hawkers and construction crews filled ever other available motel.
We had to drive on. My son took the wheel after I forgot to push in the clutch to stop. He could tell I was tired.
Here is where the adventure began. We were worn out and there was no place to stay. I asked an extraordinary looking lady with beautiful blonde hair and bug eyes where we might find room. She said we had best find another town.
At a convenience store the clerk turned pale when we asked where the next town might be. He swallowed hard and then choked up the name, Guymon, like it was some kind of penal colony at the edge of civilization.
Guymon, Oklahoma has a population of about 10,500, is 312 feet above sea level, and the Area Code is 580. That’s the interesting stuff.
In Guymon we found a room at a motel with no pool, a grain elevator view, and a manager who spoke only nine words of English –none of which related to the motel business. At breakfast the milk was five days outdated and the most edible offering. A sign above the counter read: “DO NOT SPIT IN THE SINK”
We left Guymon, OK the next morning knowing this was a trip we would remember for many years to come.
Thinking it would prove more scenic and maybe save some time, my son and I left the safe and reliable interstate and decided to take two-lane blacktop across Kansas on our trip to Phoenix and Tucson.
At Wichita we turned west and took old Highway 54 heading for Tucumcari, New Mexico where we would again hook up with the Interstate system.
Our plan when we left Wichita, just after 5:30 PM, was to drive to Liberal, Kansas where we would find a hotel and spend the night.
The detour would be more than across Kansas however; we would detour through time, too. I would tell my son about other days and times when all roads were two lane, the pace was slower and filled with old barns, and small towns.
Driving into the night across Kansas is a Missouri tradition. We are usually on or way to Colorado and the mountains, and Kansas is an annoyance at best.
On this night however, with a generally full moon shining in the driver’s side widow from the south, Kansas turned spacious with farm house and grain elevator etchings along the horizon.
Radio stations in this part of Kansas carry the full spectrum of music; they had country and western music.
Grain and hog prices, and radio garage sales, joined static to complete the spectrum of wireless entertainment. Crossing Kansas at night on Highway 54 becomes an endless repetition of white lines, telephone poles, all night Pepsi machines, and empty spaces.
I drove and we talked. We remembered our other trips.
Because I was lucky enough to be a schoolteacher, I had time in the summers to take trips. Zach, and then Matthew, and I drove off to Niagara Falls, New Orleans, Seattle, Atlanta and all points in between. Sometimes we made up our route according to whim and the state’s color on the map.
We followed two basic rules. We slept only in motels with a swimming pool and ate hamburgers at least once a day. It does not take much more that that to keep kids happy.
That night across Kansas, our actual conversation is already fading in time. We talked about graduate school, music, the Royals, Republican bad breath, and ancient history. I told him about all those drives across Kansas on Highway 36 until I noticed he was sleeping.
At midnight we made Liberal, Kansas. The main attraction in Liberal is Dorothy's House and a theme park dedicated to the Wizard of Oz. The house is a replica of the original used on the set of the famous movie.
Tonight however, the main attraction was the Holiday Inn Express. Located off the main the drag, we had to cross the river and follow a labyrinth of bad signage to get there.
The Holiday Inn Express was not open. It looked like it had been bombed. Actually, a hailstorm had wrecked the place and most of Liberal Kansas. Roofers, Insurance Agent, hawkers and construction crews filled ever other available motel.
We had to drive on. My son took the wheel after I forgot to push in the clutch to stop. He could tell I was tired.
Here is where the adventure began. We were worn out and there was no place to stay. I asked an extraordinary looking lady with beautiful blonde hair and bug eyes where we might find room. She said we had best find another town.
At a convenience store the clerk turned pale when we asked where the next town might be. He swallowed hard and then choked up the name, Guymon, like it was some kind of penal colony at the edge of civilization.
Guymon, Oklahoma has a population of about 10,500, is 312 feet above sea level, and the Area Code is 580. That’s the interesting stuff.
In Guymon we found a room at a motel with no pool, a grain elevator view, and a manager who spoke only nine words of English –none of which related to the motel business. At breakfast the milk was five days outdated and the most edible offering. A sign above the counter read: “DO NOT SPIT IN THE SINK”
We left Guymon, OK the next morning knowing this was a trip we would remember for many years to come.
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