If you are going to write a Christmas Newsletter, for God's sake please tell the truth...

 Remember the “Christmas Newsletter” that would come with all of our Christmas cards back in the day? We would receive Christmas cards and a long typed page would fall out. It would fill you in on how amazing each family was, and how perfect each child was.  I think my own mother wrote some- and what I wouldn’t give for copies of those right now! 

I started writing my own newsletters early on in my marriage when the kids were young, just to keep my extended family of aunts and uncles  apprised of what was happening in my family. My parents were gone, and I thought that perhaps they might be interested in what was happening. (I was probably wrong about that, but what the hell.)

After a year or two I had an epiphany.  Why are all of these newsletters so amazing? Jesus, you can’t tell me that these parents aren’t fighting with their kids, that they aren’t sneaking out at night or fighting over boyfriends who are losers?  REALLY? I would just like to read one newsletter that told it like it really was. 

 I decided one year to write a newsletter that was real. After that, well, I just couldn’t help myself. I thought, perhaps, that I might be offending people. But then I saw my Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Larry and my uncle said that it was the one thing he looked forward to every Christmas.  

 While I might not have copies of the early ones, I will start with one that I DID find on my hard drive. I am sharing this in honor of my Uncle Larry, who reminded me that it was cool to be real.  He really was the best, and I will never forget that he made me feel loved for who I am.  

Enjoy- and if you  write a Christmas Newsletter, PLEASE tell it like it is!!

The good news is I finished my Christmas newsletter early this year.  The bad news is, the girls found it and were so mortified that they stole all my copies and shredded them before I could get them out.  We proceeded to have a screaming match that ended up with me making all sorts of promises.  So, here it is: I am not allowed to talk about anyone being arrested, any phone calls from parents during sleepovers (use your imagination), screaming hormonal teenagers, calls from the high school, fighting with siblings, or anything that would embarrass them.  That leaves me with nothin’.  However, in the spirit of the Christmas newsletter tradition, I am willing to give this a shot.  Here goes…

Bitchy is 18 now, and loves it here at home.  She is the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen.  She just loves her job at Wegmans making subs for the community at large, loves paying for her own gas and coffee at Starbucks, and can often be found playing board games with her sister and brother, after they’ve helped with dishes, laundry, cleaning and running errands for their mother.  She is having so much fun in high school, and is sad about graduating and going away to school.  In fact, she’ll probably go to Penn State and live at home because she loves us so much.  Sassy is also just a doll.  Aren’t all 15 year-old girls the best? She is sweet as can be, never yells at any of us for no reason, and can often be found sharing her clothes with her sister whenever she asks, or romping in the yard with her adorable 9 year-old brother.  (They are very close.) She never yells at us, and is best friends with her older sister.    The Golden Boy just adores his sisters as well.  They never pick on him, hold him down, tickle him until he cries, spit on him, or treat him badly in front of his friends.  They always go to his football games, and sometimes even go to his practices just to see him.  And, when they held him down last week and told him there was no Santa, they were just kidding.  He’ll probably stop crying real soon.  

I am having a blast writing a monthly column for the local paper, and am trying to keep up with an accompanying blog.  I still love teaching kindergarten, but am very exhausted at the end of the day, mostly from laughing, but also from keeping 20 six-year olds from hurting each other, peeing all over the bathroom floor and eating things off the carpet.   Bob is enjoying his work on I-99 as a roadway supervisor, but has nothing to do with the road not opening on time! I’m keeping him busy trying to get him to finish all his jobs around the house, but he keeps sneaking off to camp to finish all the project out there!  (Frankly, I’d rather he live THERE.)

We continue to pray for Kathy, Bruce, AnnaBelle and David, as they try to find their way through this time of such terrible sorrow.  We also send prayers to Tim Kavelak as he wages his own battle with cancer.  Yep, we thank God every day for His blessings, and pray He is keeping our departed loved ones close at hand. 

Well, as always, peace and love to you all – The Patrick family

P.S.   If you want to read the original letter, it’s on my blog, and was read by over 400 people.  (psst…don’t tell the girls)  

Candy houses, Menudo and amazing memories...

 The christmas columns, Day #2!  Enjoy, and let me know if YOU make gingerbread houses! 

On a snowy, December train ride into Cleveland, Ohio, in the year 1922, a five-year-old girl’s life would be changed forever.  She and her mother had a chance encounter with a feverish young soldier who insisted that the girl sit on his lap.  It seemed he had recently bid goodbye to a daughter just her age as he left for duty.  She became deathly ill several days later with diphtheria.  Fortunately for her family, they had a close friend who was a doctor that worked at the W.R.U. School of Medicine.  They had a new serum that doctors were only beginning to use that would later become the diphtheria vaccine.  She was one of the first children to receive the injections, for fourteen days straight, and by what was always called a Christmas miracle she lived.  That little girl’s name was Genevieve, but we always just called her Aunt Jimmy.   

She and my uncle Paul, along with their two boys, lived on a very sharp turn on a very busy Superior Road in Cleveland Heights, Ohio.  Although we didn’t see them very often, our yearly visits were always preceded by great anticipation. As children we looked forward to these visits for many reasons, most important of which was that she was the best baker in town.  

We knew that she would have freshly baked goodies.  We knew that she would have lovely books for us as gifts.  We knew that our Uncle Paul would take us to his musty basement and show us his newly polished stones, or other fascinating scientific discoveries.  We knew we would be able to snoop through our cousin’s rooms- that were always filled with amazing toys and more scientific gadgets that they used in all their mad scientist experiments!  We also knew what we thought our parents didn’t – that hidden in her attic, and tucked under large layers of clear wrapping paper was a magical, mystical, incredible candy-filled city.  

My aunt and uncle were known far and wide (in Cleveland) for their incredible candy creations.  They weren’t your ordinary candy houses.  Oh no, to these young nieces and nephew they were mansions!  The biggest and bestest candy houses ever known to mankind! My sister and I would sneak up into the attic when we thought no one was looking and begin the hunt.  

We would find these creations and peel away the coverings to gently reveal the treasures underneath – exposing each architectural wonder.   We stood and gazed at them for what seemed like hours, and to this day I can remember the smell and the feeling I had gazing at these wonders.

I am reminded of Aunt Jimmy’s candy houses each time I get ready to tackle the task of making them in my classroom.  Although we’ve had to re-name them over the years (Christmas cottages, holiday houses, candy houses and finally, teddy bear cottages) the spirit in which they are made remains the same. 

With candy, icing and confectioners sugar flying, the children burst with the excitement and joy of the season.  And during the cottage construction, if you’re really lucky, you’ll be privy to some enlightening conversations: 

“I don’t know why Joseph and Mary couldn’t have slept on a pull out couch at a friend’s house. That’s what we do.” 

“I DID see Santa.  I am not kidding.” 

“Mom my made me give a dollar to Jesus. Now I only have nine.”

“My cousin celebrated Hanukkah and they lighted a Menudo.” 

“And I know there was a star.  And when you follow the star, it leads you to SANTA!” 

And finally, I sent the children out the door covered with confectioners sugar, glitter, and a package of “reindeer food” that we magically mixed together with glitter, marshmallows and love.  One of my little girls was asked by a child in another room what it was.  Her response? 

“I think it’s for the goats.” 

When magic lived in our hearts...and Santa knew what we REALLY wanted...

 

I am working hard these days putting together my third book- a compilation of all of my monthly columns that I so joyfully wrote for our local newspaper. I am re-reading them and enjoying every minute- even if now and then I cry a little. 

I thought I would share my December columns here, so that some of you might get a chuckle or two. 

Enjoy!!

When I was nine years old, I won the life-sized stocking that was in the window of Cowdrick’s Drug Store in downtown Clearfield.    It sat in the display window of the shop and each time I walked past it while walking to my dad’s office I would PRAY that I would win it.   I was stunned when I received the phone call the day before Christmas!  Never mind that it was stuffed with 20-cent plastic toys and tons of candy, it was LIFE SIZED!  I felt as if I was floating on air as my whole family got into the car to go downtown to claim the prize.  I was SURE that some greater being had a hand in my winning.  Honestly, I am still shocked by it, and it is with a big grin on my face that I recall this lovely memory.  I think that many warm memories of the holidays are the ones that are magical.  

I still remember when I believed in magic, do you?  Magic, when I was little, was when the tooth fairy remembered there was a tooth under my pillow and left me a shiny quarter.  Magic happened on balmy summer evenings on Lemon Road, when the fireflies lit up the backyard and we captured it in mason jars.  Magic happened on Christmas morning when, under the tree, was the handy dandy nifty disguise kit I so DESPERATELY hoped Santa would bring.  I hadn’t told ANYONE except Santa in the letter I wrote under my covers one night while writing with my Underdog flashlight.  I placed the note in our outgoing mailbox when my mother and father weren’t looking.  I remember that kind of magic that filled your heart with wonder and joy. That wonder and joy are what surround me every day when I am here at school.  

As we know, “Most grownups don’t believe in magic. It just, sort of, grows OUT of them. “  That’s what Judy the elf told Scott Calvin, in the Santa Clause (a CLASSIC, people) when he stated that he stopped believing in Santa a long time ago.  Well, I’m here to tell you that Santa is alive and well and greatly anticipated by most of the children in Room 120 in Park Forest Elementary school.  We seem to end up discussing Christmas and Hanukkah every day these last two weeks leading up to the holidays.  (I have one fellow who officially celebrates Hanukah; three who SAY they do, and one kiddo who says he doesn’t celebrate either of those.  He celebrates presents.)  This is ALL that the children are thinking about.  

“You know, Santa has turbo reindeer that take him all over the world. “

“No, it’s special fairy dust that he puts on the reindeer, and it makes them go fast.”

“He uses a magic whip to get them to go fast!”

“Hey, I saw that whip under my mom’s bed!”

“No, the reindeer have special magic flying dust! Santa sprinkles it on them and they,,,,,”

“It’s magic BEANS!  They eat magic beans!”

“Hey, I had beans last night…”

“Hey, I know the bean song.  Beans, beans, the magical..”

“STOP!! STOP!!” 

And with that sleight of tongue, I maneuvered our conversation back to where we had started.   

As I look forward to the holidays this year, I am reminded of all the magical, enchanted Christmases I spent as a child, and am thankful for the magic that is alive and well in my own heart. 

No matter what you celebrate or what you believe, I think the most important thing to hold close to your heart is the belief, deep in your soul, that magic IS real.    And, as we say in the Patrick house, if you don’t believe, you don’t receive….