Roland Yeomans's Blog, page 89

Believing in the MAGIC of CHRISTMAS

The magic memories of Christmas that most of us treasure are unique to each of us.

Yet, sometimes clarity comes only upon reflection. 

We get so caught up with the tugs and pulls of the season that we miss the truly priceless people and moments. 

If we but reflect we will see that 
We were blind to the love healing us and holding us tight in the arms, words, and actions of those we too often took for granted.

Still, 
we were innocent enough to see fairies dancing upon frosted lake surfaces, 
to taste the falling snow, 
and to laughingly make snow-angels.

As adults the world is too much with us. 

Yet, The Great Mystery has given us one month out of 12 to see the world as the child we once were, 
the child we can once again be if only we put down the hates and anguish that only harm us anyway.


If the yellow, green, red, and blue lights don’t twinkle with their normal festive happiness 
and instead glower like warning beacons, it is the mind that views them that has changed.

The magic is still there, waiting for the child you once were to believe in it again.

By years of Hurt and Anger, you have closed the door to it. 

But each time you smile to a hurried face that seems lost in life, 

each time you back up to allow a weary older person in line ahead of you,
each time you pause to look at the snow-layered buildings as the child you once were would see them --
you open the door to that Christmas Magic a little wider.

Every day you live can be magical if you work at it.  

The path of least resistense is to live in a world leeched of its color and vitality by Anger and Hate. 


Choose to find the laughter and beauty as you live each hour.  
Each laugh, each act of compassion is a brushstroke that adds the color of magic back to your life.

The magic of Christmas has nothing to do with decorations, lights, presents, Christmas trees or anything so material.


It has everything to do with a little girl’s smile 

and a mom who buys real candy canes for their tree 

so she can hear her little girl giggle as they decorate it together.


Give a smile or a laugh to someone.  The present you will receive will be ...  Magical

The gifts we give that matter most are the ones that cannot be bought or sold.  Me and Midnight looking for that Christmas Star
The love we share and the memories we leave behind, are the greatest gifts we can give. 
They are the only gifts that last a lifetime.
THINK  
ABOUT HIBBS  FOR A CHRISTMAS GIFT
TO THOSE YOU
KNOW WHO ARE
YOUNG AT HEART
or
My  
Christmas Ghost Story

 https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07KQ8XMJR

Silent Knight

 *This Christmas Season Night as I sit alone with ghosts from my past, 

it occurs to me that each of us is a Silent Knight ...


A Silent Knight for whatever creed shapes our thoughts and steps.

No matter our words, it is our actions that speak for us.


Have we spoken love and forgiveness to only retort sharply at the harried store clerk who did not respond fast enough for us?


Have we scoured the stores for just the right present, the perfect gift wrap only to snap at the very ones for whom we bought it out of irritation and weariness?


Have we slaved over a king's spread of assorted recipes, only to have no appetite or warmth or patience for those for whom we prepared the delicious dishes?

If we were to glance up and see the flag of the True Creed which our actions proclaim we live by, would we cringe in disbelief?

 
Today books, films and Internet sites are filled with fanciful tales purporting to tell the history of "Silent Night."

Some tell of mice eating the bellows of the organ creating the necessity for a hymn to be accompanied by a guitar.

 Others claim that Joseph Mohr was forced to write the words to a new carol in haste since the organ would not play.

The German words for the original six stanzas of the carol we know as "Silent Night" were written by Joseph Mohr in 1816, 

when he was a young priest assigned to a pilgrimage church in Mariapfarr, Austria.

The fact is, we have no idea if any particular event inspired Joseph Mohr to pen his poetic version of the birth of the Christchild. 

The world is fortunate, however, that he didn't leave it behind when he was transferred to Oberndorf the following year (1817).

On December 24, 1818 Joseph Mohr journeyed to the home of musician-schoolteacher Franz Gruber 

who lived in an apartment over the schoolhouse in nearby Arnsdorf. 

He showed his friend the poem and asked him to add a melody and guitar accompaniment so that it could be sung at Midnight Mass.

His reason for wanting the new carol is unknown.

Later that evening, as the two men, backed by the choir, stood in front of the main altar in St. Nicholas Church and sang "Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht!" 

for the first time, they could hardly imagine the impact their composition would have on the world.

And so,

they were Silent Knights for their God. 


As we, too, are Silent Knights for our gods: 

Esteem in the eyes of others, 

Wealth,  

Social Status,  

World Acclaim,  

Control over Others, 

Control over Ourselves,

or  

He who sang the universe into being.
 

We can hardly imagine the impact our actions, positive or caustic, will have on the network of fragile souls in our world.  

That fact should make us careful and compassionate in the days to come.

May your Christmas Season be magical and healing. 

Me and my Christmas ghosts tip our egg nog to you, 

while we listen to Josh Groban singing "Silent Night." 



https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07KQ8XMJR
 (Picture courtesy of S. Ward)
***

Saving The World One Ill Patient At A Time

I drove 417 miles today into the night, working 13 hours straight.  Whew!I just dragged in.

As you can see:
Midnight was worried sick about me! 

I write this to let you know why I have not been to many of your WEP Ribbons & Candles and commented.

I just have to get some sleepsince I am still on callfor the rest of the weekend.

Even Night Owls Need A Little Sleep!

Having A BLUE CHRISTMAS?

Having a Blue Christmas?
I am probably the last person who remembers Shotgun Red - a puppet who appeared on the late lamented NASHVILLE NOW.

On his Christmas Special, Shotgun was driving in the snowy night, trying to reach his family before Christmas.

He kept switching radio channels but no matter what station he found, the tune BLUE CHIRSTMAS blared out: 

Elvis, Ernest Tubb, Willie Nelson ...

When he turned to the last station he could get and got the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing it, Shotgun raised his head and howled like a wolf.


Is that Blue Christmas wolf howling inside you right now?

There are ways to starve it and feed the Serene Wolf within:


1.) CHOOSE YOUR COMMITMENTS WISELY -
You may be expected to show up at a family gathering, or to attend a certain set of social events, but if you are not going to feel comfortable in certain environments,

 then simply decline an invitation.

Choosing when to step out and mingle and when to have a quiet night in,

 no matter what day your calendar says, is a great practice in self-care and a great way to avoid a blue Christmas this year.


2.) PUT A H.A.L.T. TO YOUR CHRISTMAS BLUES -

We are much more likely to make poor decisions when we feel Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired, so taking time to check in with your current mental and emotional states is important.

Did you choose wisely and commit to a party that you are now feeling too tired to attend?

You have the right to not go.

When tired, for example, the chances of you making decisions that are not aligned with your values, goals, and way of life are higher.

What can you do instead?

Take a nap and see how you feel. Rent a movie and cook some dinner either alone or with a trusted friend.

Listen to new Christmas carols that are not tied to any bittersweet memories.  

Browse YouTube for comedians that add sparkle to your private times.


3.) STRIVE FOR BALANCE -
Instead of indulging at every event, and every time a treat is offered, stay balanced with your daily intake.

If you indulged at a get together last night, try having a breakfast of fruit and a whole grain (maybe oatmeal or wheat toast with peanut butter) and a hearty salad for lunch.

 Starting the day off with good food choices leads to better food choices throughout the day.

The see-saw of Christmas blues can be swung your way by laughter -- seek out sources that make you smile and laugh.  And try to add the perfume of laughter to someone else's day -- some of it will linger on you.


4.) REACH OUT -
Not just for help -- but to give it as well.  

That elderly neighbor you haven't seen in awhile?  Drop in with a plate of cookies or a holiday turkey or food for her pet.

Have friends slipped away from your daily contacts?  Emails are short and simple. Twitter and FB them, letting them know you miss them.


5.) A MOVING TARGET IS HARDER FOR THE BLUES TO HIT -
By simply taking a walk everyday, you are getting the blood flowing and keeping your body in active mode. 

Increased activity releases endorphins which will elevate your mood.

Just as antibody production is connected to both exercise and happiness, so too is endorphin production.

Endorphins act as both a painkiller and as the pay-off for your body's reward system.

You may also get an endorphin blast from talking to a stranger, eating a satisfying meal or being exposed to ultraviolet light.

A jog, an hour of yoga,

(just me trying to get into those ridiculous positions is good for a good belly laugh -- from those watching me)

 a trip to the gym, a bike ride, or anything else that makes you feel good is even more important this time of year.

What can also keep you from a blue Christmas is movement in the form of volunteering. 

It is hard to be down when you are helping others. 

Check with your local food kitchen or charitable donation centers for when and where you can provide service to those in need.

Don't forget https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07KQ8XMJR

CHRISTMAS: Someone With Skin On

CHRISTMAS THOUGHTS

Black Friday.  Cyber Monday.
We celebrate Christmas but often not from a Christian perspective.

If people enjoyed giving and receiving gifts, 

it might make Christmas healing in some way.

But most do not.  

Many feel obligated to spend too much for too many.

Is it because we have forgotten to be thankful and filled with awe at the gift of Christ, 

at the gift of our being able to love even if we do not feel loved?



A young boy kept coming out of his bedroom during a lightning storm 

to stand at his parents' bedroom door.

"No need to be afraid, honey," said the sleepy mother.  "God is with you."


"I need someone with skin on," he sobbed.

We all do at some point in our lives.  
Perhaps that is why God came to us wearing a human body --


 to give us someone with skin on.

But what if we do not believe in Christ or any God during Christmas?

For one month out of 12, 

Christmas Season gives so many a chance to bless those around us 

in ways that warm not only the receiver but the giver as well.

Giving someone a needed gift is like giving them a fragrant rose.  


Some of the perfume stays with you.
If for one month out of the year, 

we find ourselves remembering the magic and innocence of childhood dreams --


Christmas has still given us  a special present.




WISHING ALL OF YOU  A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!

TRUMP is an ugly CHRISTMAS SWEATER_Mark Twain, ghost

Ghost of Mark Twain here ...



while I was waiting for Roland to come back from one of his rare blood runs,

I flipped through the pages of the New York Times.




Now, I am a humorist ...

which means I am politically amoral. 

I just make jokes while Congress makes laws of them.


And, no, "we are not better than this."



When folks had to choose between Tammany Hall and P. T. Barnum, 

these sort of things just happen, don't you know?




As I was pontificating earlier,

I was reading what made Ugly Christmas Sweaters beautiful

as opposed to just tacky to make a dollar for the sweater company.

Call me contrary,

but I insist that a true Ugly Christmas Sweater should lack any irony when it is made.




The maker of said sweater should truly believe the sweater is a thing of beauty,
despite the badly stitched Santa, tinny bells, and glaring colors.

It got me to pondering that old P.T., ah, Trump
probably thinks he is quite the catch for the American public.
And just as certain, many voting pilgrims thought so, too.
Maybe they still do.
Me?


I haven't had so much material for my humor

since old Clinton got himself impeached for being confused about what constituted sex!

Oh, lest you think me fond of the other side of the aisle ...

Madame Pelosi,  when you question a fella's manhood in "private" in front of an aide ...

It ain't private.
Love the tickling skunk reference.  

Though when one skunk tickles another, neither has the right to point paws.

The 4th CHRISTMAS GHOST

The  FOURTH CHRISTMAS GHOST?
The Ghost of Christmas Never To Be ... Again.
Perhaps Christmas will never be as innocent as we remember because we are not as innocent as we were then.
Families were bigger in the Christmases of the Past

Now, single child families are the norm ...where Mommy and Daddy may be separated, divorced, or never togetherin the first place.

LONELY is now the word that comes to mindat the mention of Christmas for many when once it used to be  JOY 
POVERTY
Christmas has become a season of sorrow for many women who can barely put food on the table, 
much less presents under the tree. 
My mother was one such person.

Weeknight movies were cheaper than weekend showings.  
On the way back to our basement apartment, 
we would walk down dark, scary streets holding hands
and singing our theme song, Side By Side:
Oh! We ain`t got a barrel of money
Maybe we`re ragged and funny
But we`ll travel along
Singing a song
Side by side
With no money for a tree, 

Mother scooped up the largest fallen branch from the lot selling them and brought it home.

Topped with shiny aluminum scraps from Hershey's kisses, 

it was just as wonderful to me as the one in New York's Time Square.

CHRISTMAS MAGIC
Can be conjured to push back the 4th Christmas Ghost, if we but cling to the truth that love and imagination
is within the heart of each of us to share 
with all those in our world who are going through harder times than they appear.
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07KQ8XMJR{Only $1.99}
Celebrate Christmas Eve in 1946 New Orleans.  The ghost of Charles Dickens recommends it!

Haunting Beauty: OCEAN GYPSY

DO YOU READ TO THE END OF LONG POSTS?

Do you read to the end of loooong posts?

Megan doesn't.  But as you can see: she can't even be bothered to buy new stockings!

I usually do since with posts, like with Forest's box of chocolates, you never know what you might get!  

How about you?
Do you stop before you begin  when you see the post is long?  
In 1946, Orson Welles starred in Murder By Moonlight  filmed in New Orleans.
Read all about it in
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07HM8ZS5Q

SONG OF THE CITY

Among scars, I am the fresh wound,
Among days, the one that never comes,
Among the bones you find on the beach
the one that sings was mine.
- Lisa Mueller
Each city has its own voice with its own distinct song.
The song is louder in the dead of night.
My city ...
 
Its sprawling expanse cups a beautiful rippling lake which it poisons daily with the petro-chemical plants bordering it like Mordor did Middle Earth. 


If you look up, an eye-aching blue sky will take your breath away. In more ways than one. 
It has absorbed the poisonous fumes from endless stacks for so long, breathing the air in a course of the day is like smoking four cigarettes. 

City and state politicians swear all is safe. The national newspapers cite the city as capitol of Cancer Alley which runs along the Gulf Coast. 
  The city is a strange meld of something Tennessee Williams and Upton Sinclair might have written in a joint affair -- emphasis on Tennessee Williams. 


One of my older friends was once the "disciplinarian" of the local Hells Angels. 

I have seen a side of the city few have. He was also once a E.M.T. for the one ambulance service here. 
Often he told me of dragging into the center, covered in blood, too weary from the many calls to immediately clean up. 
He would turn on the TV in the break room and hear the local news proclaim the police stating that all was normal.   
He laughed, 
"I suddenly knew their definition for normal: four car accidents, two shootings, and one fatality."


  I have a Non-Aggression Pact with the city. 
I don't mess with it. And it considers me too small to notice. 
It still possesses great beauty. 
But like ugly scars criss-crossing a beautiful woman's face, progress slashes away at it. 
 Terrible poverty and bleak living conditions often within blocks of opulent mansions. 
The poor turning upon themselves. The oblivious rich attending sprawling, ornate churches. 
Business owners committing suicide on the premises of the local casinos after having lost all. 

Silence on the TV and on the radio. 
Jokes among the citizens that the logo of the local TV news is the three monkeys covering eyes, ears, and mouth.


The Plants and the casinos feed the city's treasuries. Cancer rates, ruined lives, and closed businesses are proclaimed independent of the cash cows.
Then, why stay? 

It is the city in which I spent my teenage years. All the friends I made, I made here. 


Here is where I grew to know my mother as one adult knows another. 
This is the city in which all my friends live. 
The common people here have a zest for living that I have seldom met elsewhere. 


If they hate you, you know it.
If they are your friend, they always have your back -- even when it would be smart to look the other way. 
They live large. 
Broad, bold strokes for them. No small, mean snipes. 
The city loves Mardi Gras so much that it has found a way to have two of them every year. 


No ambushes from smiling faces. 
And the last time I checked, the powerful eat the helpless in every city in every state.
  And in a few minutes, you can drive to great expanses of wildernesses. 

In fact, one of the last great American wildernesses is only minutes from here: 
the Creole Nature Trail. 
{ for a more detailed description of it from me go to http://rolandyeomans.blogspot.com/2010/03/last-exit-to-eden.html.}  
Drive it long enough, and you can catch the faint breath of the ocean. 


It is like the Great Mystery reminding me this land had once been a clean wilderness, 

where the waves came in, creamed up to the shore, and their breath smelled of something besides hot fear and cold greed. 

  Now, I sit at night on the terrace of my apartment bordering a small rippling bayou, 
watching the graceful egrets and floating beer bottles while listening to the voice of the city.
    In the distance, the banshee wails of police sirens and ambulances. 
The night is never silent long here. 
In the darkness, somebody is always runing and somebody else is trying to catch him. 


I look into the blackness and know somewhere out there, 
people are hungry, sick, forlorn, desperate with fear or loneliness. 
And others are shaken by sobs or anger. 


Mankind is not very kind.

It is a city no worse than others. 


A city filled with hope, pride, and ambition. 
But mostly, a city lost and beaten and full of emptiness.
This is the city I know.