Four Rocky Mountain Stars

I like the way the Scottish celebrate New Year’s. They call it “Hogmanay,” a word with several different spellings and pronunciations. It’s a two- or three-day celebration, which gives everyone plenty of time to get it right. The first day, New Year’s Eve, is spent putting your affairs in order: cleaning house and paying back debts. After midnight, you make a very big deal about the first guest who sets foot in your freshly cleaned house. Depending on where in Scotland you’re from, you might engage in singing or dancing, baking and eating cakes, ringing bells or parading through the streets swinging fireballs from sticks. Since New Year’s Eve is Sunday this year, any cleaning I do will probably happen today. Tomorrow I’ll take the dogs to the park, play the organ in church and cook dinner for the family. There may be time January 1 to enjoy a jigsaw puzzle and to begin a Marvel Movie Monday Marathon.

Turnstile

Researchers from the University of California in San Diego conducted a study in 2013 using genetic information from 2,000 individuals and their friends. They came to the conclusion that somehow we choose as our closest companions people with very similar DNA to our own. It goes way beyond gravitating towards people with similar ethnic or cultural backgrounds. The people we call our best friends often share 1% or more of our genome (fourth cousins or closer) though we’re usually not conscious of the connection. Alan Robinson and Walter Macfarlane met in grade school and have been best mates for sixty years. Walter never knew his father, and Alan was adopted. Separately they turned to DNA tests to learn more and discovered they share the same birth mother. “This is the best Christmas present I could ever imagine having,” says Alan. The bosom buddies – who were half brothers all along – have decided to spend retirement traveling together.

Rocky Mountain Star

A year from today my husband and I will celebrate our fortieth wedding anniversary. My friends at the nursing home tell me forty isn’t really something to crow about. (If you want a new perspective on life, I recommend spending time with people who’ve seen more of it than you have.) It feels like a big deal, though. Fifty-five percent of all married couples have been together at least fifteen years. Thirty-five percent make it to their 25th anniversaries and only six percent live to see fifty years. Most marriages that end in divorce do so during the first decade. When I think about our first ten years, that makes perfect sense. We were raising small children and building a new career at the same time. There was never enough money, and we never got enough sleep. It’s a miracle we made it to our tenth anniversary. We celebrated then, and we’re celebrating now. Next year, we’ll celebrate again. 

Blue Windmill

Not all Christmas songs are cheerful. Some, like Bob Carlisle’s “Christmas Shoes” or Nat King Cole’s “The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot” are maudlin to the point of being laughable. When I was very young, daddy owned the Simon and Garfunkel album Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Time. The last track of side B was an odd combination of “Silent Night” accompanied by an acoustic guitar and the 7:00 news. But some sad songs might be just what you need at this time of year. If you’re in a blue mood, I recommend Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” (Frank Sinatra’s version is a bit less weepy.) Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas,” Bing Crosby’s “I'll Be Home For Christmas,” Charles Brown’s “Please Come Home For Christmas” and Stevie Wonder’s “Someday At Christmas” are all good choices. You might even try Faith Hill’s “Where Are You, Christmas?” Just don’t overdo it.

Violin Window

Our house has an arched window in the front room that faces directly west. Many of our neighbors have identical windows hidden with blinds, curtains or shutters, but when we moved here ours wasn’t covered. A few weeks each year – spring and fall – the setting sun would interfere with music lessons and with dinner in the adjacent dining room. I drew this design on a piece of butcher paper which I took to a stained glass studio near the ballpark in Salt Lake. A few weeks (and a few hundred dollars) later, they installed the finished product. I loved the way the colored light danced across the floor and the wall each afternoon. But one of our tenants didn’t love it. We found the window hidden in our garage with a large crack through its middle. It was sad, but this maple tree (bottom center) has since doubled in size, rendering the window invisible and unnecessary. 

Santa at the Window

“As we commemorate the birth of Jesus Christ two millennia ago, we offer our testimony of the reality of His matchless life and the infinite virtue of His great atoning sacrifice. None other has had so profound an influence upon all who have lived and will yet live upon the earth. We bear testimony, as His duly ordained Apostles—that Jesus is the Living Christ, the immortal Son of God. He is the great King Immanuel, who stands today on the right hand of His Father. He is the light, the life, and the hope of the world. His way is the path that leads to happiness in this life and eternal life in the world to come. God be thanked for the matchless gift of His divine Son.” – The Living Christ; the Testimony of the Apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

Four Bear Paws

Charles Dickens had originally planned to call his work “An Appeal to the People of England on behalf of the Poor Man’s Child.” It was to be a pamphlet criticizing poverty and brutal child labor practices. At the time, many thought helping the poor would make them lazy and lead to overpopulation. (Okay, they may have had a point. There were 18 million people in England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales in 1840, and nearly 66 million today.) Eventually Dickens scrapped the pamphlet idea in favor of a work of fiction. He worked feverishly on A Christmas Carol for six weeks. As he wrote, Dickens wept, laughed, and wandered the streets of London long into the night. His novella hit the shops December 17, 1843, selling out in three days. 174 years later, it still encourages us to see each other as “fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.”