Friday Tidings

Mr. K was the principal at my kid’s K-12 school. He seemed to have a permanently delightful disposition. He gave away smiles and kind words to everyone he met. He’d encourage young readers by wearing his Cat in the Hat costume, and then subject himself to all manner of good-natured stunts if the kids surpassed their goals—from haircuts, to dance routines, and weird outfits. He was just as kind and helpful with the middle and high school students too. I had scheduled a meeting with Mr. K to talk about my son’s last few years of high school. I was seeking a strategy for making good plans. It seemed that the decisions made now could change the outcome of his future. If I didn’t make solid plans, who would? Mr. K leaned forward in his chair, and in the most congenial way possible said, “In making plans for the future, always use pencil.” That one sentence was packed with such truth. For me, someone who always needed to make plans, and then map it all out, using pencil seemed a whole l

Most mornings I rarely sleep past five. But on this particular Christmas morning, I was awake even earlier because I wanted to be ready to help make breakfast and all the work that comes with a family crowd. It had been a few years since our family had traveled to spend Christmas with the folks and the rest of the family.   The stillness of the hour was noted by the steady ticking of the grandfather’s clock. I sat on the couch and looked across the frozen landscape outside.   I heard footsteps approaching and it was my father-in-law, Conward. He was also an early riser—as well as one willing to stay up late if someone needed to talk.    I motioned for him to come in and he sat across from me in his comfy recliner. We chatted softly so we wouldn’t wake my daughter and her family, and the others. I think we both saw the specialness of the hour, a chance for a quiet start to Christmas.   Other family members would be arriving later, and the house would soon be packed. The people-vo

Conrad was a thin man, but strong—he had to be for the hard work that was his routine. But by 1896 things were bleak for him in Odessa, Russia—formerly the land of Ukraine. The Bolsheviks and the Communists were slowly starving him and his fellow German immigrants.  His grandparents, parents and other hardworking families had made the barren land abundant with wheat over the last century. The government was now confiscating their land, crops, supplies, and food provisions—amid the brutally cold winter.   Harvest in Ukraine 1800's Photo: Myasoedov Born in the port city of Odessa, Conrad was loyal to his new homeland, but he couldn’t escape his German heritage. A ship docked in Odessa was heading to England for Christmas. Conrad was hustled aboard, then onto another ship heading to America—a place he’d heard had land to grow wheat and the freedom to grow it.  He worked as a deckhand to pay his fare, arriving at Ellis Island with only his farming and blacksmithing skills. From there h

I’d met my boyfriend’s parents months before, but now I’d been invited to their home for Christmas. My own family Christmas celebrations ended when my parents divorced five years before. I had a small family—and my boyfriend’s was big—siblings, their spouses, extra in-laws, and grandkids would all be there.   The holidays are merry and bright unless you’re meeting your boyfriend’s family for the first time—then it’s a bundle of nerves. What would they ask me? What would I talk about? I felt like an outsider. I decided to wear a long, maroon colored flowing dress— not very practical for helping in the kitchen or for playing with the little kids—so I probably lost points on that decision. Then, I arrived with nothing to add to the meal, not a pie, or cookies, or anything. What was I thinking? Obviously, I’d forgotten Mom’s hostess gift rule. No points scored there either. Thankfully, my boyfriend stuck right by my side. He did most of the talking, so I could listen to conversations

For many years, the first week of December was my quarterly cancer screening. It was a cluster of different appointments on a single day to accommodate my travel to Seattle. I’d walk from the ferry, passing storefronts festooned with lights, expertly wrapped boxes that looked like huge presents, and smiling mannequins wearing the holiday finest. Westlake Center had a huge Christmas tree glittering with thousands of lights.  I kept walking. The cancer center was not that far, and once inside the huge building, it had its own bright holiday decorations. It might seem odd to celebrate Christmas with cancer. But that’s the optimism that prevailed there. The caregivers wouldn’t have it any other way.  Cancer during Christmas could be a journey you’ve either taken or have walked alongside with someone you love.  While doctor visits and chemo treatments happen, life seems blissfully normal for everyone else. Other folks are Christmas shopping and planning parties, while you’re making yo