A Little Tree Goes a Long Way

I was pretty bummed at not having a Christmas tree this year.  It is such an iconic piece of the holidays and yet, because of time, money, moving, etc., I just decided this year... no tree.

I accept that not having a tree is a failure on my part to get into the spirit but it still pestered me.  The apartment still isn't quite set up and my feeling was that a tree deserved to be placed in a home where it had a dedicated space, near comfortable seating, where people could enjoy it.  Without a sofa and without time to sit and stare at it I felt a tree would be mistreated and feel uncared for.  (Yes, I was anthropomorphizing the would-be tree... it's part of the Spirit of Christmas.)

But then today, sitting on my desk, I was surprised by a little Christmas tree from one of my dear friends.  Along with this little tree was a note with a quote from A Charlie Brown Christmas.  So this little tree revived the joy I had lost in not having a tree and inspired me to decorate and find more Christmas cheer this holiday season.  So, here's to you little tree.  Let's hope I can keep you green for a good long while.

And now for your viewing pleasure...

How the Christmas Tree Stand Nearly Ruined Christmas

‘Twas two weeks before Christmas when all through the house
My mother was flustered and starting to grouse
“Where the hell is the stand for this dag-nabbit tree?
We had it last year so where could it be?”
The fresh tree had come from the vendor in town
But stood propped in a corner causing the family to frown
The Christmas tree stand had gone missing somewhere
And no stone was unturned in our search for it there
“We’ll have to adapt,” said my mom in a snap
And she started to dig through a closet of crap
“Ah ha!” said she as she pulled out a bin
“This wash basin will do, “ and she drug out the tin.
Now how could a washbasin solve our quandary?
Did we plan to scrub Christmas with dirty laundry?
“Quick, grab the cat litter,” she said stern and quick
“What the hell is it for?” I asked, “What is your trick?”
She lifted the tree toward the bin with one hand,
“We’ll plug the tree in the bin and surround it with sand!”
The logic was simple and couldn’t be truer
But I imagined our problems would not become fewer.
The cats were quite curious as I brought her the bag.
They questioned its travels as cross the carpet it drag.
Mom snipped open the fresh bag of cat litter clay
And poured it around the fresh pine in the tray.
She filled and she filled till up to the brim
Did the sand ‘round the tree then she said, “Now let’s trim!”
The tree seemed unsteady but stayed still in the room
And she started to decorate while I collected the straw bristled broom.
I swept round the base as the tree came to life
And the missing tree stand no longer caused strife.
The tree was quite pretty all twinkling with light
And we sat down to watch it long into the night.
But here the story took a most sour of tone
When our genius new plan would cause all to moan.
For one little kitty had seen our tree glitter
And this new place to crap was made of the litter.
There lie the poo all fresh in its place
And our beautiful tree was now a foul stenchy disgrace.
So the lesson to learn during this time of year
Is to think twice ‘bout your plans before you commit to the cheer
For you may think its genius and be hero today
But the crap underneath is just cause for dismay.
You can sing all the carols, dress all your gifts in the wrap
But there is always that something that on your genius will crap.
  © 2010, W. Thomas Adkins

Yes, Monterey, there is a Santa Claus

Mervyn's Department Store, Monterey, California... 1990. My dad had taken my brothers and I to the mall to pick up some gifts for our mom for Christmas. We'd stopped by customer service, for either gift wrap or package pick-up, and while my dad spoke to the clerk at the counter my brothers and I were instructed to sit quietly on the chairs in the small waiting area.

Now, there was a major flaw in the plan. My brothers and I never sat quietly anywhere. Somehow we would get into an argument and start a fight... sometimes fairly innocent and sometimes pretty fisticuffs.

Having happened some 19 years ago, I can't remember exactly what our argument was about. But I'm sure to an adolescent mind it was terribly important. Maybe we were pre-fighting whether I got to watch Saved by the Bell on Saturday morning or they would get to watch X-Men. Whatever it is, it was very verbal. But we knew better than to get our father's attention so even as it escalated, we kept it at a strong whisper.


A large man, looking like he'd just finished off four or five corn dogs with a side of Auntie Anne's hot pretzels sat down beside us and we instantly hushed. This man was large, a stomach that rolled out over his lap, a heavy white beard that clung to his portly face and a thin pair of gold glasses that just barely sat on top of an upturned nose.


"You boys know better than to pull that here," he said.


Being the oldest I often assumed leadership (for better or for worse). But here I was frozen. Something inside said just listen.


"Now I know you're father would not be happy with you three putting on such a show," the old man continued. "In fact, I can think of two men who would not be fond of such a conflagration." What's a conflagration? I thought, not yet having started my P-SAT vocabulary training. "I think that three boys like yourselves would be on their best behavior at a time of year like this. Not that I think you should misbehave at another time mind you. It just seems that if you Bobby" he said, acknowledging my youngest brother, "want those Ninja Turtles and you Mike want those Power Rangers, than I think you'd best be behaving, don't you?"


How'd does he know our names? I was stunned. First, this stranger was talking to us and I was sure that it wasn't a good idea. But for some reason I wasn't afraid of him. Second, this stranger knew our names and I was certain that our father had not spoken to him before we sat down. He didn't have time. He was busy carting three boys around and making sure we didn't cause trouble.


"And you Tom, you should be showing these two what it means to be a man, watching them while your dad is busy. And you're just egging it on," he dropped his head as though ashamed of my actions. "I just don't know what I would do if I were Santa."


Santa? But... can't be! I had been told years before that Santa was not real. Well, technically my mom had told me that Santa was the spirit of Christmas and he was alive in every parent, bringing gifts to those who deserved them as a token of his love in the Christmas season. But a REAL GUY?


Still, I sat stunned... quiet.


"Now, I have to get moving," said the chubby old man. I looked him over. He didn't wear a Santa suite so I was sure he wasn't the mall Santa on a break. He was dressed in khaki shorts, a flowery short-sleeve shirt and then (of all things) socks and sandals. But the beard and belly were right, and the glasses were as I'd imagined them. He looked so much like the Santa on the old Coca-Cola tin tray that our mom always displayed... it was uncanny. "But I hope you boys will do right and behave. Your mother would be very upset to learn you'd acted up. Wouldn't she?"


My brothers nodded at him. They too seemed stunned, just bobbing their heads slowly as they stared at the Kringle-like man.


"Then I have nothing to worry about," he said and stood up. "Have a very Merry Christmas you three." And with that he gave us a wink (A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread... it fit so well) and headed off into the store.


Once he'd disappeared my brothers turned to me, "Did you see that?" Bobby asked as though a unicorn had walked right up to him.


I couldn't answer. Yeah, I saw it. But what was it or rather, who?


Our father finished up his business and collected us, heading out of the store and into the parking lot. We climbed into the van, none of us speaking. The van started up and we pulled out of the parking space and into the mall road, looping around the entrance to Mervyn's department store. Right then a long white Cadillac convertible pulled out of another parking row. Horns (or antlers?) were mounted to the front and the old fat man was seated behind the wheel. Even through the glare of our windows he spotted us. Another wink. And he pulled ahead of us. Can't be, I thought. It really can't be! But there it was, the "Santa-lac" pulling ahead of us with California tags that read "H0-H0-H0" and suddenly it was gone. The car hadn't pulled away, hadn't turned out of sight, hadn't flown into the air... just gone.


I'm still absolutely convinced that the man, or the spirit that is Santa Claus, was really at Mervyn's that day. And I'm still 100% sure that he really is watching for good boys and girls, checking his list twice, finding out just who has been naughty and nice.

Holy Christmas Batman!

This Christmas was full of excitement, magic and... unfortunately... a few passings.

The magic began when we braved the crazies and went to Macy's to check out Santa Claus. No, none of us hopped up on his jolly little lap, but we did walk through his winter wonderland, sneak a peak, and get a jazzy little button that "ho ho ho'd" us right out into the fine china department. (Which is a strange place to dump out sugar-high kids that have just met the man of the seasonal hour. How about the plush doll section instead? CRASH SHATTER YIKES anyone?)

Snow was everywhere too - for a while. NYC at Christmas with snow on the ground in an absolutely amazing sight. If you haven't seen it... get your #@*$ up here and see it (next time... since the snow is melted now).

The new apartment is almost put together - bookshelves are up (the last obstacle to a gloriously cute apartment).

Now... on to the sad news. We lost three incredible talents over the holidays (more I'm sure, but these three have highlights the news feeds).

Eartha Kitt passed away on Christmas Day after a battle with colon cancer. She was 81 and, frankly, the only Catwoman who could take down Michelle Pfeiffer.

We also suffered the loss of two American theatre legends. Both Harold Pinter (78, battle with cancer) and Dale Wasserman (94, congestive heart failure) passed away this last week.

They say Hollywood leaves us in threes... you just don't expect so much so quickly.

On the lighter side of things, these three left us with amazing works that will be shared and cherished for eons.

So this New Year's Eve, lift your glass to American royalty and to the art they've left for us to enjoy.

Cheers!

Um... gross but necessary?

I'm pretty sure that as a baby I attacked my parents once or twice mid-diaper change. But apparently there's a legitimate market for these! If you want to know more, go to their website and make your purchase.

I have a feeling there are a lot of little elves out there this Christmas pissed off that their hats are being misused. (Pun completely intended.)