Hello, Bedford Falls! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, movie house! Merry Christmas, Emporium! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan! Hey! Merry Christmas, Mr. Potter!

I have a florist's card pinned to my bulletin board at work.  On a particularly rough day several years ago a gorgeous bouquet of flowers arrived at my office from my husband.  Opening the attached card I read "We are the Baileys".  Wow.  Four words, and it changed the tenor of my whole day.  I keep the card in sight of my computer where it always reminds me that no matter how rough or rocky a day might get, either personally or professionally, the bottom line is we are the Baileys.  It's a Wonderful Life is one of our must-see holiday movies, even though I have to confess that the last few years I seldom make it past Martini's bar and usually wake up just in time to sing Auld Lang Syne with the whole gang at the end of the movie.  Through thick and thin, lean times and periods of prosperity, celebrations of good health and anxious times of health concerns, the always gratifying but sometimes stressful times of raising a family, the one thing I have always been able to count on is my family, and most particularly, my husband.  Together we've created our own Bedford Falls, and oh, how I love it.  As you can tell from the 2004 ornament from my husband above, it's all about sharing and enjoying the wild and wacky movie script of our own lives, because truly, ours is a wonderful life.

The Most Wonderful Of All Things In Life Sir Hugh Walpole (1884-1941)

The most wonderful of all things in life is the discovery of another human being 
with whom one's relationship has a growing depth, 
beauty and joy as the years increase. 
This inner progressiveness of love between two human beings 
is a most marvelous thing; 
it cannot be found by looking for it or 
by passionately wishing for it. 
It is a sort of divine accident,
 and the most wonderful of all things in life.

Is it just me, or is this week flying by?  I think the swiftness of my days is in direct relation to how much I still don't have ready for Christmas.  Somehow that extra week after Thanksgiving lulled me into a sense of having more time to do my gift shopping and wrapping, and now the 25th seems way too close. Where are those darned elves when you really need them?!

My Christmas memory today centers around the jolly Santa card you see above.  I found this Christmas card tucked in a box last year, and when I opened the card I discovered it was the note that "Santa" had left for me along with my brand spanking new pink and white Schwinn bike the year I turned ten.  I was so excited to get the bike but the funny thing about the card was...it was signed by Santa but was in my father's very distinctive handwriting!  Thus was my introduction to who Santa really was.  Since my dad had recently passed, finding this card meant so much and for the last two years the card has been nestled in among my tree branches, where I can remember both my wonderful father and the true spirit of Santa. 

Off to school on my trusty Schwinn (check out the basket!).  My mother made my dress--isn't it cute?!  

William Stafford, poet laureate of Oregon,  shares his love of biking in his poem below:

MAYBE ALONE ON MY BIKE

I listen, and the mountain lakes
hear snowflakes come on those winter wings
only the owls are awake to see,
their radar gaze and furred ears
alert. In that stillness a meaning shakes;

And I have thought (maybe alone
on my bike, quaintly on a cold
evening pedaling home), Think!--
the splendor of our life, its current unknown
as those mountains, the scene no one sees.

O citizens of our great amnesty:
we might have died. We live. Marvels
coast by, great veers and swoops of air
so bright the lamps waver in tears,
and I hear in the chain a chuckle I like to hear.

I hope you have a good day--are you closer to being prepared for Christmas than I am?  I'd love to hear from you!

This week I've been writing about some of the special ornaments on my family's Christmas tree.  Every year our children's stockings contain a special ornament selected by Santa to represent something significant that happened during the year---an engagement, a wedding, a special role in a play, a trip, getting your driver's license, etc.  This happy little mouse, above, represents the year our youngest son won the state piano competition in South Dakota and got to go to Minneapolis for the regional competition. 

Because I believe having the skill to sit down at the piano and play a hymn, or a Christmas tune, or a piece of music that will calm and soothe your spirit (for me, the Bach Inventions are a great stress reliever) is so important, we made sure all four of our children studied piano.  For a while, my entire part-time teaching check went to Sister Mary Margaret, who both terrified and inspired our children.  She taught them scales, she showed them the power and majesty of music, and she shaped their ability to memorize long series of notes, which helped immensely in later years as three of my children are actors.  She bribed them with warm soda and Woolworth bought-on-clearance trinkets, and occasionally astonished them by sliding off the piano bench, clutching her rosary and praying to God for patience with 'this student who has obviously not practiced this week' !!

At night I sit by my tree for awhile, looking at all the ornaments and all the stories they tell about our wild and crazy adventures as a family.  Funny stories, bittersweet moments, and celebrations of the heart are all nestled among the branches.  It's not a designer tree, and you won't find any pictures of it on Pinterest under "most beautifully decorated tree"--there are no two matching ornaments on the whole tree.  But it's my family tree in every sense of the word, and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Here's a lovely poem by Billy Collins about piano lessons that I have enjoyed for a number of years--I hope its images make you smile as well. 

Piano Lessons
By Billy Collins

My teacher lies on the floor with a bad back
off to the side of the piano.
I sit up straight on the stool.
He begins by telling me that every key
is like a different room
and I am a blind man who must learn
to walk through all twelve of them
without hitting the furniture.
I feel myself reach for the first doorknob.

He tells me that every scale has a shape
and I have to learn how to hold
each one in my hands.
At home I practice with my eyes closed.
C is an open book.
D is a vase with two handles.
G flat is a black boot.
E has the legs of a bird.

He says the scale is the mother of the chords.
I can see her pacing the bedroom floor
waiting for her children to come home.
They are out at nightclubs shading and lighting
all the songs while couples dance slowly
or stare at one another across tables.
This is the way it must be. After all,
just the right chord can bring you to tears
but no one listens to the scales,
no one listens to their mother.

I am doing my scales,
the familiar anthems of childhood.
My fingers climb the ladder of notes
and come back down without turning around.
Anyone walking under this open window
would picture a girl of about ten
sitting at the keyboard with perfect posture,
not me slumped over in my bathrobe, disheveled,
like a white Horace Silver.

I am learning to play
“It Might As Well Be Spring”
but my left hand would rather be jingling
the change in the darkness of my pocket
or taking a nap on an armrest.
I have to drag him in to the music
like a difficult and neglected child.
This is the revenge of the one who never gets
to hold the pen or wave good-bye,
and now, who never gets to play the melody.

Even when I am not playing, I think about the piano.
It is the largest, heaviest,
and most beautiful object in this house.
I pause in the doorway just to take it all in.
And late at night I picture it downstairs,
this hallucination standing on three legs,
this curious beast with its enormous moonlit smile.

Great Spirit gave me special wings, calling me to soar above, 

He adorned my heart and gave me earth

......so I can simply love.
Great Spirit gave me friends and family, calling to my heart,
He showered my life and showed me love,
......so I will never part.
Great Spirit gave me compassion and patience, calling me to be,
He covered my eyes with loving kindness,
......so I can always see.

Yesterday I shared with you a special ornament on my tree that relates to all my favorite memories about ice skating.  Today I am sharing an ornament I gave my husband in 1995, that has a family picture from one of our special places in South Dakota.  You may recall I wrote about Sica Hollow and its Trail of the Spirits earlier this fall, and how it is a revered place for the Native Americans in that area of northeastern South Dakota.

Remembering Sica Hollow calls to mind a lovely Christmas song, the Huron Carol, which was written by a Jesuit missionary priest, Father Jean de Brebeuf, around 1641.  The Huron built a small chapel of fir trees and bark in honor of the manger at Bethlehem.  It's fun to remember that Christmas is celebrated in other cultures, and that not all nativity scenes are depicted the same. In the charming nativity scene below the animals at the manger were the fox, the buffalo and the bear.

1. 'Twas in the moon of winter-time
When all the birds had fled,
That mighty Gitchi Manitou
Sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim,
And wandering hunter heard the hymn:

Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria.

2. Within a lodge of broken bark
The tender Babe was found,
A ragged robe of rabbit skin
Enwrapp'd His beauty round;
But as the hunter braves drew nigh,
The angel song rang loud and high.

Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria.

3. O children of the forest free,
O sons of Manitou,
The Holy Child of earth and heaven
Is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant Boy
Who brings you beauty, peace and joy. 

Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria.

First ornament following our marriage, given to us by my parents

I spent a good portion of my weekend changing my house from fall to winter, reliving happy memories every time I pulled a new decoration out of the box.  As I unwrapped a couple of ornaments my children had made back in elementary school I started thinking about all those great grade school holiday celebrations.  This was, of course, back in the day when an elementary school could stage a full nativity pageant and there were no complaints to the school board.  In music class we always celebrated Christmas by listening to Mrs. Nelson's LP collection of Amahl and the Night Visitors.  I remember others fidgeting through the songs, but oh how I loved when King Kaspar sang This is my Box and how I cried when Amahl generously offers his only belonging, his crutch, to the new baby and is thereby cured of his lameness!  It just wasn't Christmas until I heard his mother tenderly sing "don't forget to wear your hat" as Amahl sets off with the wise men in search of baby Jesus. 

Besides the all-school concert and the classroom parties, I had fun picking out just the right present from the Fuller Brush salesman (I am sooo dating myself now!) for my classroom and orchestra teachers, with my mother's guidance of course.  Such delicious offerings to choose from....would it be a plastic candy cane filled with candy or perhaps a tin of exotic tea?  And then...on the last day of school before winter break, we had an all school assembly to watch Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates (via reel to reel, naturally).   There was something so exhilarating about outdoor skating--fresh air, pink cheeks and really cute winter hats with pom poms.  We had a rink just a few blocks from my house, with a little warming house and a loudspeaker that played the hits of the season (I remember Honey (I Miss You) and Lemon Tree in particular).  One memorable winter my dad even turned our backyard garden into our own personal skating rink--how cool was that?!  So I really cherish the first ornament that my mother gave us after we married...the lovely ice skating couple shown in the picture above brings back so many happy memories.  We started putting our ornaments on our tree last night, and my husband hunted through the collection to put this on one first. 

 

On our trip to Scotland a few years ago I ran across this delightful painting by Henry Raeburn in the National Gallery of Scotland in Edinburgh.  Don't you just feel like smiling when you compare the Reverend's rather dour expression to the exuberance he shows as he pushes off on his right leg?  



Here's a fun little poem by e.e. cummings that sums up the fun of ice skating:

Spring is past, and Summer's past,
 Autumn's come, and going;
Weather seems as though at last
 We might get some snowing.
Spring was good, and Summer better,
 But the best of all is waiting,-
Madame Winter-don't forget her.-
   O
        You
            Skating!
           
Spring we welcomed when we met,
 Summer was a blessing;
Autumn points to school, but yet
 Let's be acquiescing.
Spring had many precious pleasures;
 Winter's on a different rating;
She has greater, richer treasures,-
   O
       You
           Skating!
         
Gleam of ice, and glint of steel,
 Jolly, snappy weather;
Glide on ice and joy of zeal,
 All, alone, together.
Fickle Spring!  Who can imprint her?-
 Faithless while she's captivating;
Here's to trusty Madame Winter.-
   O
       You
           Skating!

One last thought about ice skating--what's not to love about these oh so cute ornaments below?  I found these lovely little felt ornaments at Alicia Paulson's website/blog:  Posie:  Rosy Little Things.  It's too late for this year, but I already bought the pattern so that hopefully next year I can add a few more ice skates to my tree!

http://aliciapaulson.com/collections/ornament-patterns/products/ice-skating-afternoon-ornament-pattern



"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!" 

from A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens

Happy Saturday!  After a really busy week at work I am so looking forward this weekend to finish decorating my house for the holidays.  I love the period between Thanksgiving and New Year's, and enjoy creating special little holiday vignettes throughout my home.  With the help of my husband we have managed the trickiest part of our decorating...assembling the Dickens Village in our family room.  My collection started in 1984 when my best friend gave me one small house--the Candle Shop.  I thought it was charming, so next year my husband added another house.  And like topsy, so it grew....

From its humble beginnings of several little shops my collection has expanded to cover three long tables!  I have to admit, it's a bit of a pain to put it all up (and God bless my husband, whose unenviable task is crawling under the tables, trying to hook up over forty light cords that will eventually plug in to the four outlets we have!).  But the end result is sooo worth it and for my family it heralds in the beginning of the holiday season.  One of our 'must watch' holiday movies every year is A Christmas Carol.  We are partial to the George C. Scott version--his sneering bah humbug is just so...Scroogey!  So we have tried to include all the pieces from the story in the collection.  In addition, we have also carefully chosen pieces that hold a special memory for us, and today I am sharing a few of those with you. 

Welcome to my version of A Christmas Carol and my Dickens Village!

Welcome to olde London Towne!  You can see the innocent little Candle Shop that started this collection on the left.   Of course it wouldn't be a celebration of A Christmas Carol without Scrooge and Marley's Counting House!  The pub next to Scrooge's office reminded us of a favorite pub we enjoyed in London.  I'm sure the street vendor would be happy to share some nice hot chestnuts with you!

It's not geographically correct but I've tried to incorporate a little of the beautiful Hyde Park Winter Wonderland ice skating rink, although Hyde Park is certainly not found in Trafalgar Square, next to the magnificent St. Martin's in the Fields church!  One of my absolute favorite memories of my last trip to London was attending a Baroque by Candlelight recital at this magnificent church.  When the soprano filled the sanctuary with the gorgeous strains of I Know that my Redeemer Liveth from Handel's Messiah there wasn't a dry eye in the house.  If you listen carefully, you might hear the ensemble on the church's steps playing God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen!

St. Martin in the Fields, Trafalgar Square, London--you can see how faithfully Dept. 56 recreates its Dickens pieces! 

One of my favorite pieces is the beautiful brownstone apartment building on the right.  We stayed in Earl's Court in London and loved to walk down the streets, admiring these beautiful old homes.

Street view, Earl's Court, London

We had so much fun at Richmond Park, located on the outskirts of London.  My husband golfed and I entertained myself with a walk through the bridle path and deer park.  When it started to drizzle I enjoyed many cups of tea and a good Anne Perry mystery in the golf club, which looked very much like this one.  Richmond Park was a royal hunting preserve, and it was there in 1536 that King Henry VIII stood upon a hill waiting a signal from the Royal Tower of London that his wife, Anne Boleyn, had been executed, thus allowing him to wed Jane Seymour.  In the background, you can see a bit of the Globe Theater.  We enjoyed a tour of the building on our last visit.  The recent movie Anonymous has some lovely scenes of this historic theater.

"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all. 

 Have a wonderful weekend!  

"Merry Christmas, little daughters! I'm glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little new-born baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there; and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?"

Yesterday was Louisa May Alcott's birthday, so I thought it fitting to honor her today.  The impact she has had on so many young girls' lives through her books is staggering, and Marmee, Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy have become quite real to so many people.  Little Women has been made into a movie three times, and each has its flaws and brilliant moments.  I particularly enjoyed watching Katherine Hepburn as the impetuous Jo, but the 1994 version captured my heart with the lovely interaction between Marmee and her little women. At Christmas time I like to remember how simple the March family celebration was, particularly after the girls gave away their Christmas breakfast to a needy family.  As we prepare our hearts and homes for Christmas may we all take a minute to remember those who have so little and that the best gift of all is the gift of love.

 

From The Short Story A Christmas Dream, And How It Came True

Louisa May Alcott

From our happy home

Through the world we roam

One week in all the year,

Making winter spring

With the joy we bring

For Christmas-tide is here.

Now the eastern star

Shines from afar

To light the poorest home;

Hearts warmer grow,

Gifts freely flow,

For Christmas-tide has come.

Now gay trees rise

Before young eyes,

Abloom with tempting cheer;

Blithe voices sing,

And blithe bells ring,

For Christmas-tide is here.

Oh, happy chime,

Oh, blessed time,

That draws us all so near!

"Welcome, dear day,"

All creatures say,

For Christmas-tide is here.