Something on my Mind: Splashing through the Snow

There is no question in my mind that my happiest Christmas memories as a family man were years ago in BC's interior. I could break down the previous statement to emphasize that it was a specific stage in life, a specific season of the year and specific place in the West.

Right now, I'm busy listening to Andy Williams, Anne Murray, and Bing Crosby, among others, singing their Christmas carols, and if that doesn't put me into a Christmas mood, I don't know what else could. Maybe the big fat guy who hasn't shaved for weeks, wearing his boots inside the house, and drinking what we trust is Coke, might do it.

But myths just don't do it like the real thing, although you might say Coke is "the real thing."

So with the music wafting through the air, taking me back to yesteryear, I am in a pensive mood. This column is giving words to those reflections.

What does a "Christmas in the Cariboo"--specifically, 100 Mile House (scene of that horrific fire this past summer)-- look like? How does it qualify as the "real thing"? Well, simply put, it looks like a winter wonderland, with lots of trees and snow. And the mood in the community was always very Christmasy (a real word, Maurice).

That's "trees," as in those tall green things; and "snow," as in that fluffy white stuff. It would be nice that that Cariboo Christmas out here sometime.

Because we have always been away from family at Christmas, we try to include other families who are alone. I recall one Christmas when we had our neighbours over; the snow was so impassable, they came over in their snowshoes.

Sledding with the kids, building snowmen, and cross-country skiing were the norm there, though I passed on the skiing part. They even had the annual Cariboo Marathon, and probably still do.

Another memory is getting my own Christmas tree right off the land. Often it was right off the different acreages that I owned or rented. I thought it was fun, though it wasn't for the kids I took out with me into the bush.

I still get a live Christmas tree from an acreage, but it's now from someone else's land (aka tree farm in the Kootenays), and I buy it through an outlet that rhymes with Home Depot. There is something really nice about the fresh smell of a six-foot Scotch pine. But then again, there's nothing really nice about the shedding needles that mess up the floor. There's real joy in putting it up, but real relief in taking it down.

Christmas is for kids and lovers, a line I've used in this space before. And that was the part of the specific family life season I referred to in the first paragraph. Back in those days, we had just four kids (with five more added over the years), so our family wasn't all that big, but big enough and young enough to make Christmas really fun.

These days my wife and I are at the stage where we're scrambling to have some family home for Christmas, what with kids scattered right across the country—Halifax (2), Edmonton, Kamloops, Kelowna, Langley, and Milk River. At the point of writing, we'll have only two home for the Grand Day, although some are coming early in the New Year.

It's not all bad, though: More egg nog and white meat for the old man.

Christmas is a time for family, a comment I made last week. Every day should be about family, to be sure, but between the cards and carols, gifts and greetings, trees and traditions, Christmas is the most poignant time for the family to get together. It's the laughter and the memories, the down time, and change of schedule that makes it so special. There is no better time or place to chill in December.

If all goes according to Hoyle, this column should come out just after Christmas. I trust you had a good one, and garnered plenty of memories from the good times.

Please don't let anyone take away reason of the season, even if you're not overtly "religious." You have to wade through the cultural morass to get down to the bare facts of history: the magi (astrologer-kings) from the present-day Iraq region and the census from Augustus Caesar, for starters.

It did really happen and there really was a special birth. When history and theology mesh—and they usually do-- that is very good.

And as I said more or less to you last week, all the best to you and yours from me and mine.

Something on my my Mind: I'll be Home for Christmas...I Think

I thought I would take a brief break from the Ten Commandments, and work in a couple of seasonal columns. After all, who can resist the rich theme of the birth of Christ and the hope and motivation it gives a new year?

I don't look forward to Christmas like I once did, for a variety of reasons. Public admission of private matters is not kosher, in my books, And I'll leave it at that.

I will say, though, that I see and hear so many wonderful things at this time of year, and that makes me feel really hopeful. Despite the unbridled consumerism of the season, Christmas seems to give people a reason to go that extra mile of warm greetings, good will, and renewed relationships.

Kids can be extra nice at this time of year there, too, and if there's was a Santa around, I get a little wary of what's behind that pleasant behaviour.

Speaking of being nice at this time of year: I wouldn't go so far as to say nice things about any leftist provincial government—not even if there was a Santa in the room. I don't believe in either, so would that be a no-no, right? There's being nice, then there's being misleading, and I draw the line somewhere in between.

I googled the word "home" for this column (yes, I do that sometimes), and I was amazed to see how many links there are between "home" and "Christmas" in a range of Christmas songs. And that's only in the title. If I made the effort to scroll down to the lyrics, I know there would be even more "home" references.

Home and Christmas. What is so special about being home with your family at Christmas, especially if you live elsewhere? I don't really know, of course, because I live at home all the time. I did spend a year teaching school in El Salvador almost decades ago, and it was tough being away during this season. Spending Christmas under a banana tree in 35-degree weather doesn't quite cut it.

But beyond the weather anomaly, I was missing the parents and family, friends and relatives, as well as the snow, such as it is, in greater Vancouver, BC.

Christmas is far more than trees and tinsel, trimmings and turkey, and all the bells and baubles , associated with the season. There's a place for some of those things, I suppose, but I think we can all agree that Christmas boils down to family.

Believe me, I am fully aware of the historical and biblical basis for Christmas, and I buy into it big time. However, for the most part, we've lost most of our historical and biblical moorings, and so we're losing that perspective.

But in the main, Christmas is about family and re-connecting with them. Even as the notion of "family" is changing, yet there's still some connection.

However, I know a lot of families personally that have been fractured this past year, and for them it's going to be very tough Christmas. I think of marriages that have gone south, of a husband who was killed by a drunk driver, or of wayward kids who have gotten lost, as they searched for themselves.

As I write this, a friend of mine is languishing in an area hospital, dying of cancer. He may not even make it till Christmas, and that will be really hard for his his family. It's rough any time, but it always seems more so at this time of year.

Or maybe the family is still intact (ie., no death), but changes are coming: health, finances, employment, or even one's outlook. Life raises its clenched fist and may land a punch to the gut or a cuff to the head. Not only do things like that hurt, but often they blindside us.

Then beyond that, there's the unknown. At this time of year plans get shattered or turned on their head, and bit by bit, blow by blow, they've disappeared completely or have morphed into something else—a very ugly "else." It's hard to celebrate the season with so much uncertainty in the air.

So, in the meantime, Merry Christmas from our house to yours. Cherish your family one more time...hopefully not for one last time.

Something on my Mind: No Buyee? No Takee! (2)

Let me start off by listing two other possible motivations for stealing:

4. Boredom. We are raising a nation of bored, directionless children, with social media being one of greatest contributors to this problem. There is a rush (see #2) to taking something that isn't yours (so I hear), and it simply breaks up the daily tedium.

One antidote to this factor is to have a real life: a fulfilling job, meaningful relationships, and a touch of character and courage, works every time.

5. Anger. This sounds something like: "I couldn't help it, I was ticked off." This is the "blame game" rationale and it is so full of holes that it's hardly worth wasting even moments addressing it. In this case, the blame is based on family life (usually no father present), the colour or race card, or socio-economics factor. These are all real issues, no question, but they are never excuses to go out and rip someone off. Never.

Have you ever considered the cost (pun not really intended) of taking what is not yours? We referred to places where stealing can take place, but I will remind you what I said last week:

"There are job sites, supply yards. regular retail outlets, public places and institutions, and, of course, houses, where we call it breaking and entering." I must add that mugging people and robbing banks should be listed, too. Let throw the way our taxes are dealt with by the CRA, while I'm at it.

Things stolen must be replaced. Inventory that was purchased must now be purchased again. That likely leads to greater surveillance, more staffing to maintain that surveillance . Perhaps there has to be a re-working of how merchandise is presented.

And that all costs money, which will be passed along to the consumer. So, in other words, the thief may not pay, but you and I will.

There may be the shortsighted view that it's just one chocolate bar, or one light bulb, or one tie, but it's not. It's one item by one person in one store at one time. Multiply that by many items stolen by many people in many stores over many hours –all in one day—and you get the picture.

There are many ways that stealing takes place. It may be by shoplifters in some retail outlet. It may be fraudulent returns. It may be employees ripping off their employers.

Then there is gas and dash, where it may actually cost the clerks their lives, in trying to stop scumbags from gassing up without paying. And beyond the cost to the retailer, there is the cost to family life and the courts when these people are charged and put away. Stealing is a very expensive way of getting free things.

I did some googling on the cost of stealing. The dates are a little old, but that only suggests to me that the figures are higher today (as we're not getting better as society, you know).

They say that shoplifting costs retailers worldwide $112 billion (that with a "b," not an "m") on an annual basis. Even when employees rip off their bosses, it costs the employers anywhere from $20 billion to $40 billion (again, starting with a "b"), though I don't know if that's here in "enlightened" North America or worldwide.

There's more, but I trust you get the picture. The main thrust of this eighth commandment is the forbidding of taking something that is not yours.

Here are a couple of really simple principles to live by:

1. If it's not yours, don't take it. Plain and simple. If you want it and it's available, go through the proper channels, namely, pay for it, work for it, or earn it somehow. There are agencies that help people who just can't afford the basic necessities; ripping others off is not an option.

2. If someone else is stealing, deal with it. Dealing with it could involved being a "fink," one way or the other. I know that word is so '60ish, but it fits in right here. Maybe you do not have the physical or personal wherewithal to confront the thief, but there is a 9-1-1 phone call/text to the cops, the venue itself, or even a friend.

And yes, we would be much, much better off if we stopped stealing. It makes sense at every level.