At Last

December 27, 2006 | Category: Not The Nightly News

President Ford has died. Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban have reunited in Australia. The Dow broke records, closing above 12,500 for the first time.

It's the day after the day after Christmas.

I'm taking the advice of the people I respect (you know, people who read my blog) and I'm going to push through my writer's block by writing every weekday.

The spirit of my 100 days and all that.

I'm hoping for constructive criticism. And the return of inspiration.

So.

Last week, I took Bear downtown to look at all the holiday displays and to do some shopping at the open-air Christmas market. Headed for the parking garage, Bear saw the Christmas in Daley Plaza for the first time.

He got a little upset. "Mommy! They killed a really, really old tree! Just for decoration!"

He was relieved to get up close and see it is really a bunch of smaller trees stacked together.

Once upon a time...

My dad did that.

Although, not as much on purpose.

He bought a bargain basement tree so pathetic that when he got home, he realized it wasn't going to work out. So he went out an bought another one, tied them together, and sort of hung the whole thing from the ceiling with fishing line.

"Don't worry," he told my brother and me. "No one will ever be able to tell once its decorated."

We looked at him, looked at those trees, looked at each other. And wondered, in a loud whisper, if Christmas trees were, you know, supposed to be triangle-shaped.

Dad's creation was a strange kind of..uh... polygon.

My mother stood in the doorway, watching the whole thing happen, and I knew from the look on her face that one day she would either kill or divorce my dad.

My father could have used the decorating and creative skills of the Daley Plaza tree people. Or, you know, a bucket of the sense God gave goats.

The next day, Bear was telling CD about the "stack of trees" over hamburgers our favorite diner when a tropical Santa popped out from behind the bar.

Bear looked at me and shook his head.

"Strange," he whispered in my ear.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's a strange time a year."

Tropical Santa gave Bear a plastic blue lei.

He rolled his eyes.

"Mommy," Bear said. "I gotta tell you. It really is."

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