Wish List for the New Year

 

Welcome to the annual Funstuff New Year's Resolution List, courtesy of Dr. Fun (Maurice, that would be me). This is the (only) time of the year that I can vent a little more than usual, taking jabs here and there at certain public objects and culture flaws around me. If you don't like the word "Resolution," then try "Wish" on for size.

And if you don't like the word "Wish," well, I can't help you.

Here they go:

1. Calgary Flames. I wish for them to have an NHL-level hockey team. The club of millionaires that masquerades as a professional hockey team is on thin ice (pun gleefully intended), and is an embarrassment to many hockey fans across Alberta. (If this were Arizona or Georgia, for instance, this conversation wouldn't be happening; I don't think they don't know the difference between a hockey game and a hickey game.)

Solution? Trade Jerome Iginla, a couple of fourth-liners, and some farmhands to a team like the Columbus Blue Jackets. He could then pair up with another all-star (Rick Nash), giving the Blue Jackets instant play-off potential. It would create even more parity in the league. Columbus (unlike, say, Phoenix) is a bonafide hockey city and deserves a break like this.

2. The Conservative Party of Alberta. I wish for them to do something constructive about their future status, before they do something more destructive. No one wants to go through the rigours of yet another provincial election, but the Conservatives need to do something to stop the bleeding. The Wildrose Alliance Party is making some very serious inroads into staunch Conservative strongholds throughout the province, so the PC's had better watch out. Calling a snap election may not be the best solution, especially if their federal counterparts may be forced to do the same, but they can no longer be comfortable with where they're at.

Solution? Shore up what support is left on the right, before they're left right out They still may go down in flames in the next election, but it will at least look like they are trying to stay alive. Do not construe this as my personal support for either party at this point, though I do have my definite leanings.

3. Subway. I wish every success for Bow Island's newest (coming) enterprise. Years ago, in my capacity as a junior high Social Studies teacher, I called for some fast-food chain to move into Bow Island. My "call" came in the form of an assignment for my students, namely, come up with an eatery that would meet the following qualifications: a. located on Highway 3; b. open past 9:00 PM each night; and c. preferably a well-known chain. I did not specify which business should come in, but I know that Subway will be a roaring success.

I have never been able to understand why there's not a coffee to be had between Taber and Medicine Hat anytime after 9:00 PM on any given night. Highway 3 is the main thoroughfare out of southern British Columbia, and into southern Alberta and Saskatchewan. The best coffee bar is at an all-night gas station--and you know what leftover 11:00 PM coffee there tastes like.

Solution? Bring on even more fast-food places in the same area as Subway; make that high-profile corner a going concern. It will give travellers even more reason to stop in Bow Island. It will also give the locals plenty of opportunity and space to get in on the action. Timmy's anyone?

4. Mexican Mennonites. I wish for more of our Mennonite friends to settle in our area. I have stated the following before: If it wasn't for the Mennonites that have settled here in droves over the past five to ten years, the economy in Southern Alberta would be in a state of near-collapse. Whether they are filling our schools, renting our houses, shopping in our stores and buying our groceries, or working as labourers on our farms, the positive impact of these people on our economy is incalculable. I am clearly aware of a lot of resentment on the part of certain non-Mennonites. Okay, I agree, sometimes some of it may occasionally be justified, but rarely.

Solution? Support them in every which way possible. They are prepared to start at the bottom and work their way up, unlike most of us. And doing this in a foreign country where they don't even know the language or the customs. Something (y)our parents and grandparents did.

Hey, we should re-visit this wish list a year from now and see if wishes really do come true.

One Day at a Time

 

As the year 2011 creeps ever so closely, I remain amazed that I am still around to be, well, amazed by it. This past year has not been a particular kind year to yours truly, though I make ever effort to refrain from wearing my heart on my sleeve, so to speak. One especially grievous setback in my own life this past year has been a reminder of life's fragile balance.

But, I must move on, take a deep breath, and rely on the fact that the One Who made me is the One Who is in control. I don't always understand that, but I believe it. I trust I can say that without sounding preachy or sanctimonious. I find little comfort in trusting in my own ability (or lack thereof) within or some vague cosmic force out there somewhere.

The Good Book speaks so eloquently and relevantly (as usual) about "a time to weep, and a time to laugh," as well as "a time to be born, and a time to die." And it has been that type of year, down here in the Deep South. It has been a brutal year for unplanned deaths for many. I don't know if there have been more tragedies, or it's just that I am aware of more people. Or it could simply be that I sense it more because of my own human fragility

There must be a pall of grief and sorrow over parts of the county of Forty-Mile, thanks to a number of unexpected and unwanted deaths in this past year. My thoughts and prayers go out to the many new widows in the area, especially in Foremost. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that not one of those families ever dreamed that 2010 would be the last for year for their loved one.

So with those morbid thoughts in mind, some may face the New Year with a certain timidity. We make summer holiday plans, but we may never see June. We buy our Christmas gifts early, but ours never gets opened. We anticipate another birthday milestone, but end up being honoured with a headstone instead.

Grim thoughts, I agree, but it is a wise person who reflects upon the shortness of life and the certainty of death. While we are not promised tomorrow, we do have today. And if I can kick across one special thought today, it is this: Live everyday as if it were your last.

Now that can be construed in one of two ways: One, the old adage, "eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die," has come to mean live it up, drink it down, and let it all hang out; or two, cherish the relationships you have, patch up the differences between you and someone else, and enrich the lives around you.

I despise the former response, yet I fail miserably in the latter one. In other words, I wish I would cherish as I should, patch up as I need to, and enrich as ought to. No man on his death bed ever wished he worked more hours, made more money, or was away from home more often. Rather, he would tell you that he wished he had valued those around him more.

Who reading this column today will be reading it next year? (For that matter, who writing it will be writing it next year?) If all goes according to (our) plan, each one of us will be, but we certainly don't know for sure.

Some wag has said the following: Today is the present, so that's why it is a gift (play on words carefully intended). Enjoy the gift of laughter, love, and support. Give the gift of laughter, love, and support. The very fact that you can read this means you are still around, still available for those near and dear to you.

So as you stand up (or sit down) to face the New Year, do it with the certain realization that it is yours to treasure, yours to enjoy—one day at a time. Let's plan to meet here again next year, same time, same place. All being well.

Emily, It's Me Again

 

My note to "Emily" and any other "Emilies" out there is newspapercolumnland a couple of weeks ago left me in a reflective mood. I wonder how she took it, I thought. Was she devastated that Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy are only the products of creative minds?

So, without too much fanfare or retraction, I wish to write her a follow-up letter. Again, you can read along, if you so choose. If not, try at least to figure out what this week's punch line will be.

Hi Emily. Trust this letter, er, column finds you and yours well. I hope we're still friends, after I spilled the beans about there being no Santa Claus. I dislike bearing bad news—bursting balloons, if you will--, but, you know, I have raised, am raising, and (it seems) will continue to raise nine kids of my own, and it seems I am forever saying"No" to them, for the same reason. The reason? For their own good.

My wife and I have chosen to not expose them to many of the half-truths of the culture, and we're glad we took that stand. I'm sure they would have felt betrayed by our half lies, then bemused by our backtracking years later.

You know, Emily, Christmas, sans Santa Claus, is still a wonderful time of the year. And I want you to understand that you can get beyond the trees and the tinsel, the bills and the bells, the stuffed turkey and the stuffed guests, and really enjoy it. Probably a few extra gifts with your name on them under the tree would help.

But seriously, Emily, Christmas may seem for the most part for children and lovers—and that's not a bad thing—but it really can be for us all. Those of us who are long on the tooth, a weird expression for getting older, can still have our share of lots of fun and plenty of memories. For our family, we are having our married kids and their babies, as well as those of us at home, for Christmas. That will make it very special this year.

Some people panic because they have to buy so many presents for so many people. If you know any of those people, Emily, tell them to back off. Trim the Christmas gift list. Buy better gifts for fewer people. Make sure all the bills can be paid in January. Suggest they should start doing what we're starting to do: buy gift cards. (And, Emily, if you're thinking of me this year, think in terms of an East Side Mario's or Five Guys, Burgers and Fries, gift card(s). Thanks in advance!)

Christmas involves looking out for others. It's not the things we get or don't get; nor is it about things we give or don't give. Yes, gifts have their place—I'd be a liar and hypocrite if I told you not to get or give, when I turn around and do it myself. I'm just suggesting to you, Emily, that you really think about what you are doing, and why you are doing it.

Maybe you could change your approach to the big day this year. Think about having a few people over for games and snacks. There's got to be a widow here, an senior there, or perhaps a new family in town. Check out your source of people through your school, church, or neighbourhood. And I'm thinking that if you go that route, you will have one of the best Christmases ever.

The message of the first Christmas, over 2, 000 years ago, is one that still holds true today. That is, the true spirit of Christmas involves opening your heart, your hand, and your home to others, spending time and energy on people (as opposed to spending money and sweat on gifts). Please don't let the rampant consumerism and materialism get in the way of a truly meaningful Christmas.

By the way, if you are thinking of asking over one of those aged friends of yours, I play a mean game of Boggle.

There's a Song in the Air

 

I felt like I was a kid again: There I was, along with some family members and others, singing Christmas carols from door to door in Lethbridge. Every door that opened up seemed genuinely moved by the warm gesture on the part of a family friend who gathered some her Music for Young Children students together (and their families). The carolling was Lydia Collin's initiative, and it was a smash hit.

Talk about a cold call: I wasn't sure if the chills running up and down my back were chills of joy of the season or chills of the freezing. Either way, it was worth the walk. By the time I got back to the church basement, the hot chocolate never tasted better. Even when I accidently spilled some on my arm, I felt both stupid yet warm all over, if you get my drift.

One of the Lethbridgians (Lethbridgeites? Lethbridgaires?) even offered us money after our "performance." Too bad I was so proud and so far back; I would have gladly taken the looney. I needed the cash for the burger on the way home. Others offered candy. It was one of those rare times that I took my cue from the kids: They took it, so I took it.

I can't remember when I last went carolling door-to-door. I certainly went when I was younger, much younger (hence, the age reference at the beginning of this column). Over the years, I have gone carolling with the church(es), in the home(s), at the seniors' centre(s), and, of course, the annual Carol fests scattered throughout the South.

But singing outside to complete strangers, who don't even know you are coming, well, that's a little different. Different, as in not being able to turn pages of song sheets with winter mitts on; different, as in singing songs one sings only once a year, mostly from memory because of the afore-mentioned mitt thing and the fact that the porch light didn't shine all the way down the stairs where I was standing; and different, as in I didn't really want to go at first, then found that I was actually enjoying it.

I like to support my family whenever possible and reasonable (and not necessarily in that order); but yet another drive into Lethbridge, after another long day, as well as doing something new, and doing it outside in the cold—I don't think so. Or at least I didn't think so.

Doing something for others—be it family, music teacher/friend, or complete strangers on the west side of Lethbridge—almost, and I use the word 'almost' cautiously, suggests to me the true spirit of Christmas. Let me re-state that: When I put myself out, that is, I give of my time and energy, others are blessed. And if 'blessed' sounds too religious for you, may I suggest that others are 'pleased.'

Most of my Christmas traditions, at least in terms of public presentations, revolve around concerts, cantatas, choirs, cookies, or any other yuletide seasonal word that starts with the letter "c." Usually, I'm merely sitting as a spectator, taking it all in, then quickly wolfing down all the shortbread biscuits, fudge, poppycock, and Brussels sprouts I can get my hands on--before the kids get to the food table.

Okay, okay, nix the Brussels sprouts; I always leave them for the eco-cuisiners.

That's why by blessing (there's that word again) others, I am likewise blessed. I think there's a metaphor in that experience: When I serve myself, I am miserable; but when I serve others, they not only benefit, but I do too. It's one of those things that's make me ask: Why don't I do this at other times of the year?

(No, Maurice, I don't mean singing "What Child is This?" at some stranger's door in July; I mean the 'serving others' part—okay?)

Anyways, last Sunday night wasn't a "Silent Night" at all for me and mine, and I didn't mind that one bit. And methinks, neither did those folks on the West Side.

Old Saint Nick

 

----- Original Message -----

From: Craig Funston

To: Yak-Yak Cafe

Sent: Thursday, December 02, 2010 11:38 AM

Subject: Old Saint Nick

 

A generation ago, a famous writer wrote to an imaginary girl called Virginia. She had inquired as to whether Santa Claus really existed, and he replied with those famous words: "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus."

I will now write to the next generation of "Virginia," but I'll call her Emily. Unfortunately, I won't be quite as positive (and misleading). You are more than welcome to "listen in"...

Emily, you wondered about this character called Santa Claus. If my history is correct, there was a man called Saint Nicklaus—somewhere in Europe, I believe--a couple of centuries ago. Many things that mark this current icon were likely started by him. I know I probably should be more up on my 200-year-old men of history, but I'm not. The point is, there was someone back then that the current bearded gentleman is modeled after.

Whether he always wore a red jump suit, with those furry frills, a big, bushy beard, I cannot say. He probably didn't have Coke back in the Old Country, either. Whatever, Santa Claus has become an integral part of how many people celebrate Christmas. Funny, isn't it, that we can delete Christ from Christmas, but we better not mess with Santa.

If you go shopping at this time of year, no matter what mall you end up in, he is there. You can even sit on his lap, if you are small enough. In a day or so, you will hear all sorts of songs about him. I don't know if I can say this here, Emily, but my "favourite" Santa song is by the Beach Boys, "Old Saint Nick."

But I am digressing. You see, Emily, Santa Claus is a figment of our imagination, the mere embodiment of a deep-seated void in all of us. In other words, there is something within all of us that wants a kind, benevolent person to be there, giving things to us, and just being a special presence.

You see, he does exist, yet he doesn't. Let me explain: As I stated earlier, he is everywhere; you can talk to him and he can talk to you. He's in store windows, on Christmas cards, and is very popular with certain ads. So for me to say that there is no Santa Claus would be misleading. The question is: Who is Santa Claus and what does he really represent?

On the other hand, he isn't there. He can't be in every mall right across this country, all at the same time, plus scattered throughout the world. Only one can possibly be real, while all the others must be fakes. That's a harsh reality, but it's true. He is part of the secular side of Christmas, yet his presence suggests something much, much deeper.

One of the things that I really struggle with is the many similarities between Santa and Jesus. Please, Emily, don't assume I'm going into a theological rant at this point. The connection, to me, seems only too obvious. I know that that may make me sound like a religious quack, but I'm not. I may be religious, but I'm not a quack. That's often the tag people are given by others when they don't agree with them. Interesting where tolerance ends and prejudice begins...

Back to my Santa-is-like-Jesus thinking for a moment: When I speak of someone being everywhere at the same time, of knowing whether you are naughty or nice, of giving rewards at his coming, you may be confused—because you don't know whether it's referring to Santa or Jesus. You see, there are too many things seen and said about Santa that should be reserved only for Jesus. And I have a serious problem with that.

He also assumes a larger-than-life persona, a fancy term for being far, far more important than he really is, not unlike athletes or movie stars—or any celebrity, for that matter. You understand what I mean when I say too many of these people (Santa included) are treated as if they were a god of some sort, and this is terribly serious and dangerous.

So, no, Emily, there is no Santa, even though there is an element in all of our hearts that would want to believe in something (or someone) who could fill that Santa role in our individual lives. Perhaps I could discuss that vacuum-shape in all of our hearts some time with you.

You have a very Merry Christmas.

---

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Old Saint Nick

 

A generation ago, a famous writer wrote to an imaginary girl called Virginia. She had inquired as to whether Santa Claus really existed, and he replied with those famous words: "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus."

I will now write to the next generation of "Virginia," but I'll call her Emily. Unfortunately, I won't be quite as positive (and misleading). You are more than welcome to "listen in"...

Emily, you wondered about this character called Santa Claus. If my history is correct, there was a man called Saint Nicklaus—somewhere in Europe, I believe--a couple of centuries ago. Many things that mark this current icon were likely started by him. I know I probably should be more up on my 200-year-old men of history, but I'm not. The point is, there was someone back then that the current bearded gentleman is modeled after.

Whether he always wore a red jump suit, with those furry frills, a big, bushy beard, I cannot say. He probably didn't Coke back in the Old Country, either. Whatever, Santa Claus has become an integral part of how many people celebrate Christmas. Funny, isn't it, that we can delete Christ from Christmas, but we better not mess with Santa.

If you go shopping at this time of year, no matter what mall you end up in, he is there. You can even sit on his lap, if you are small enough. In a day or so, you will hear all sorts of songs about him. I don't know if I can say this here, Emily, but my "favourite" Santa song is by the Beach Boys, "Old Saint Nick."

By I am digressing. You see, Emily, Santa Claus is a figment of our imagination, the mere embodiment of a deep-seated void in all of us. In other words, there is something within all of us that wants a kind, benevolent person to be there, giving things to us, and just being a special presence.

You see, he does exist, yet he doesn't. Let me explain: As I stated earlier, he is everywhere; you can talk to him and he can talk to you. He's in store windows, on Christmas cards, and is very popular with certain ads. So for me to say that there is no Santa Claus would be misleading. The question is: Who is Santa Claus and what does he really represent?

On the other hand, he isn't there. He can't be in every mall right across this country, all at the same time, plus scattered throughout the world. Only one can possibly be real, while all the others must be fakes. That's a harsh reality, but it's true. He is part of the secular side of Christmas, yet his presence suggests something much, much deeper.

One of the things that I really struggle with is the many similarities between Santa and Jesus. Please, Emily, don't assume I'm going into a theological rant at this point. The connection, to me, seems only too obvious. I know that that may make me sound like a religious quack, but I'm not. I may be religious, but I'm not a quack. That's often the tag people are given by others when they don't agree with them. Interesting where tolerance ends and prejudice begins...

Back to my Santa-is-like-Jesus thinking for a moment: When I speak of someone being everywhere at the same time, of knowing whether you are naughty or nice, of giving rewards at his coming, you may be confused—because you don't know whether it's referring to Santa or Jesus. You see, there are too many things seen and said about Santa that should be reserved only for Jesus. And I have a serious problem with that.

He also assumes a larger-than-life persona, a fancy term for being far, far more important than he really is, not unlike athletes or movie stars—or any celebrity, for that matter. You understand what I mean when I say too many of these people (Santa included) are treated as if they were a god of some sort, and this is terribly serious and dangerous.

So, no, Emily, there is no Santa, even though there is an element in all of our hearts that would want to believe in something (or someone) who could fill that Santa role in our individual lives. Perhaps I could discuss that vacuum-shape in all of our hearts some time with you.

You have a very Merry Christmas.