I haven’t written a word about 2010 yet and for good reason: the REBECCA’S DAUGHTER new year does NOT start until Monday, January 4, 2010! The holidays haven’t ended for me as yet. It’s nearing 2:00 A.M., and  I’m still basking in the light of my Christmas tree that will be UNdecorated tomorrow afternoon. I’m still thinking about the loveliness of the past 12 days and how much I enjoyed each one of them. And I’m still laughing at all the cute observations my grandchildren shared with the family. Here are just a few:

Mia, almost 4 (pointing at the cardboard cut-outs in the Nativity scene): There’s baby Jesus, baby Mary, baby Joseph, and the Holy Ghost.

Her mommy: Holy Ghost? Where is he, Mia?

Mia (pointing to an animal near the manger): Here, Mom.

Mommy: That’s a goat, Sweetheart.

Mia: Oh. Here’s baby Jesus, baby Mary, baby Joseph, and the Holy Goat.

Mommy dials Daddy as she laughs.

Mia: Who are you calling?

Mommy: I’m calling Daddy to tell him how funny you are.

Mia: Oh, he already knows. You don’t need to call him.

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Upon visiting Temple Square on December 23, our family stopped by the life-sized Nativity to listen to the narration of the story of Christ’s birth, accompanied by music from the Tabernacle Choir. As each chapter of the story unfolded, spotlights lit up the shepherds or the Wisemen or the Holy Family, and the music swelled. Obviously touched by the presentation, Abby turned to us and EXCLAIMED, “I didn’t KNOW Bethlehem was TRUE!”

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While driving to a matinee with my grandsons and grand daughter, I reached over to Brayden, 10, and asked, “Will you still give your grandma hugs and kisses when you’re a teenager or will you be too cool to do that anymore?”

Before Brayden could answer, Drew, 8, interjected, “My dad’s a lot older than a teenager and HE still LIKES you, Gramma!”

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Okay, our cute Connor refused to play Joseph and he declined a request to operate a paper sack puppet, but he did summarize our Christmas experience when he exclaimed,

“This is the BEST Christmas EVER!”

And I have to agree that it was a very good Christmas! Lots of things made it that way – some big, some little – but they all added to the love and joy I felt.

• I’m grateful our California kids celebrated with us. It is NO fun to cart 4 children AND Christmas for 6 nearly 1700 miles round trip! Oh, we appreciated it!
• I enjoyed the MOCKtail party hosted by our SLC kids on Saturday night for ADULTS only. We were able to chat, laugh, and HEAR each other while enjoying delicious yummies.
• I appreciated help with the setting up and cleaning up required to feed the 500. Headed by G.E., the boys and their wives jumped in to ensure that we ate only a little later than planned!
• I was also grateful for my sous chefs on Christmas Day. Even with advanced preparation, we would have been eating a midnight without my daughters’-in-law help and support.
• I loved the joyful gratitude of grandchildren who were thrilled to be with their COUSINS, aunts, uncles, and GRANDPARENTS!
• I was especially thankful for G.E. ! He thought of so many details – like buying a pre-lit Christmas tree to lessen decorating frustrations and purchasing a high chair to replace the pathetic booster seat I bought years ago.  And he didn’t complain ONCE about money – not bad for someone who has just a little bit of Ebeneezer in his blood!
  

With this post,

I’ll put Christmas ’09 to bed,

knowing that reflecting

upon the many events through writing

made it all the better. 

Good night, All.

Mrs. Quidor, a GREAT teacher!

Mrs. Quidor, my 1st, 2nd, and 3rd grade teacher didn’t fiddle around with traditional Show ‘n Tell activities. No, she was an educator who gleaned ideas from the latest technology, and in the mid-1950s, that was television!

Instead of  showing off Daddy’s World War II medals or Mickey Mouse ears from Disneyland, circa 1956, we performed on Little Theater. Loosely patterned after TV’s The Lawrence Welk Show,  our Little Theatre provided a venue for the developing talents of Mrs. Quidor’s precocious students. (I am sure that watching a dozen 1st, 2nd, or 3rd graders plunk out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” on the piano or xylophone week after week was nothing short of painful!)

The performers rotated turns each week to enable us to practice in between “on stage” appearances. Kay Donaldson usually played the piano, Paula Lystrup danced, Donna Partner sang, and Dan Sanders tinkered with tunes on that miniature xylophone.

Blessed without a singing voice, an ear for music, or coördination and flexibility needed to dance, I spent my weeks searching for a talent instead of practicing it. Oh, I tried my turn at singing – Mrs. Q. applauded my rendition of “This Old Man; He Played One” a few verses BEFORE “… he played 10; he played knick-knack on my hen… .”  (My teacher’s tactful “gong” that sent wee entertainers scurrying off-stage.)

On one occasion in second grade, Mom rewrote a Raggedy Ann and Andy story, and I memorized it. When it was my turn to perform on Little Theater again, I retold the story without looking at notes, without prompting, but  oozing WITH expression! Mrs. Quidor did NOT interrupt that performance! In fact, she gushed over me like she never had before.

Apart from making Fridays fun, Little Theater was also the prelude to our BIG SHEW (Ed Sullivan’s pronunciation of “show”). Mrs. Rhea, the principal, always invited our class to present either the Christmas or spring program for those special PTA Meetings.

In these instances, Mrs. Q. ASSIGNED each student a talent – usually the ones we performed best. That meant Kay played the piano, Paula danced, Donna sang, and Renae told a story. That was fine with me until the year I took dancing. When she requested that I retell “The Little Match Girl” for the Christmas program, I protested.

Me: Mrs. Quidor, I’d like to dance.

Mrs. Q.: I know, Dear, this is your FIRST year of dancing, isn’t it?

Me: Yes, but I’m REALLY getting good.

Mrs. Q.: I know you are, but we REALLY need a story-teller.

Me: I’m tired of telling stories; I want to …

Mrs. Q.: Renae, do you want to sit in the corner? Again?

Me: (Silence. Glare. Pout. PLOT.)

Mom and I worked on the “Match Girl” story, which I really did NOT like because I knew NO ONE wanted to listen to SAD stories at Christmas unless they ended happily – you  know, like “Rudolph.” While I couldn’t talk my teacher into letting me change the story’s resolution – a kind neighbor finds the little girl before she freezes to death and takes her in – I did convince Mrs. Quidor to let me wear a costume, a recycled Halloween witch’s cape,  long and black with colorful patches sewn on it.

The final practice was actually a performance that we presented to the entire school, so I was nervous, yet excited for more than one reason! I had cooked up my BIG SURPRISE! I don’t know if I plotted over several ensuing days or if I thought of it overnight, but when the day of our dress rehearsal arrived, I had solidified my plan.

Shortly before my number, I changed into my costume and took my place on the sidelines. I clasped the cape tightly around me and then walked slowly to center stage.

Tearfully, I retold Hans Christian Anderson’s sad tale of the poor, little orphan who had to sell matches on Christmas Eve. As the weather worsened and potential customers disappeared, the barefoot girl lit one match after another, trying to keep warm. A special vision appeared within the sparkle of each lighted stick. And as the child gazed into the final image of a loving grandmother reaching for her, the tiny orphan flung off her tattered cape and DANCED her way heavenward, wearing a CHARTREUSE LEOTARD and TUTU!

As amazing as that performance may have been, Mrs. Quidor requested that I wear my Sunday BEST dress under the cape for the evening program. BUT, she didn’t say I COULDN’T dance MY WAY to heaven!

It’s not every Saturday that I enjoy High Tea at the America Grand Hotel with anyone, let alone dear friends with whom I tramped the streets of Vienna! The occasion sort of commemorated the 10th anniversary of our Austrian adventure. Mingling memories with hot chocolate, scones, and tiny sandwiches was the perfect way to rehearse the details of our trip to that beautiful city. 

I’ve always associated sipping cocoa on a wintry day with my childhood, but now I also travel back to the Vienna Woods and Hermes Villa on a January day in 1999. Emperor Franz Josef presented the villa to his wife Elizabeth (Sisi) as a gift, a “Castle of Dreams,” with the hopes of keeping her home in Austria. You see, poor Sisi suffered from “wanderlust.”

While we might define this condition as a “love of travel,” the emporess’ state exemplified the dictionary definition: “a STRONG, INNATE DESIRE to rove or travel about.” If Sisi wasn’t on the road, she suffered tremendously from physical ailments and mental depression; but time spent in Greece, Hungary, or Great Britain restored her health and sense of well-being for a time. 

As magical as Hermes Villa seems, however, the Castle of Dreams failed to captivate Sisi. Not even bedroom walls painted with scenes from Midsummer Night’s Dream enchanted her royal highness.  The romantic mansion, located on a former game preserve on the outskirts of Vienna, was not far enough away for Elizabeth’s escape from the pressures of the royal court and the prying eyes of a controlling mother-in-law.

That day, hoarfrost-covered trees lined the paths that meandered through the Vienna Woods leading to the villa, adding a visual chill to the frozen air. The cold beauty and the overcast skies introduced us to the melancholy that haunted the grounds and the rooms of the mansion. Sisi’s displayed dresses, combs, brushes, jewelry, and other personal effects only added to the emptiness of a sad life and a broken marriage.

Drinking hot chocolate in the Hermes Villa café, my friends and I talked of the Empress at length. For whatever reason, we felt more of a closeness to her that day in that place than we did at any of her other castles. It was there that we realized Sisi could NEVER have satisfied her search for happiness because she knew what she wanted to escape, but she didn’t know what she sought.

Nevertheless, the people of Austria and Hungary loved the empress, and they still do. In spite of Sisi’s idiosyncracies, they admire her beauty, her athleticism, her intelligence. She was passionate and compassionate. Many compare her to Princess Diana of Great Britain, and there exists a few interesting similarities, including tragic deaths.

Empress Elizabeth brought us all to Vienna once upon a January, and so it’s only fitting that we bring her to Salt Lake City once in awhile to join us for hot chocolate and warm friendship.

During NaBloPoMo I wrote about a couple of historical moments: President Kennedy’s election and assassination, and the Berlin Wall’s destruction. In both of those posts, I mentioned that I wished I had recorded my feelings when the events occurred. To a small degree, I remember how I felt, but hindsight provides a very different view.

With that in mind, I decided I MUST write about the historical moments I’m witnessing now. The most signficant is the 2008 election of Barack Obama, the first African-American president. His first year in office is coming to a close, and it has been a most difficult one. President Obama took on more problems than most presidents, excluding Presidents Abraham Lincoln and Franklin D. Roosevelt – who happen to be his heroes.

Among the challenges his administration inherited are an economy in crisis and a war being fought on two fronts. The U.S. AND the world are slowly climbing out of “The Great Recession,” a descriptor that indicates the severity of the situation that is reminiscent of “The Great Depression” of the 1930s.

Tonight President Obama also announced a troop build-up in Afghanistan where Islamic extremists and terrorists are swelling in ranks. This is an 8-year struggle that was neglected after President George W. Bush decided to take out Saddam Hussein – his father’s old nemisis. (But that’s ANOTHER story of unfinished business and imaginary “weapons of mass destruction.”)

While I did not vote for President Obama, I really WANTED him to win. I’m accused of being enamored of his charismatic personality and his eloquent oratory, and that is partially accurate. But I am also drawn to his intelligence, his grit, his courage, and even his politics. (Now that really freaks out some individuals who are certain that the man is pushing this country  into becoming a socialistic nation – a state just a hair above Hell.)

President Obama’s dedication to reform health care is at the heart of this criticism. I guess I am liberal-minded because I believe in affordable health care. Furthermore, I also believe that American taxpayers will pay for an improved program, or we’ll pay for the uninsured that turn to welfare and bankruptcy, etc. Whether it’s increased taxes or fees and interest, we’ll be out-of-pocket.

One interesting backlash for my support of  President Obama occurred on Facebook – a popular social network. An old high school acquaintance “befriended” me and occasionally commented upon my FB wall. I usually avoid topics concerning religion or politics, but when an outrage erupted over President Obama’s desire to speak to the nation’s students at the beginning of the school year, I HAD to say SOMETHING!

I could not understand why people were against his desire to encourage America’s youth to study hard and to make the most of their education. I was appalled at the lack of respect for our nation’s leader. Good grief, he didn’t want to BRAINWASH them with socialist drivel! He wanted to INSPIRE them. I felt like some parents were afraid that their children would hear this positive message and actually LIKE the man and what he said. Mommies and Daddies just didn’t want to run the risk of kidlets becoming critical thinkers.

This is what I wrote on September 3, 2009:

Is the president of the United States going to present a message that is rated PG? Or PG13? Thus requiring parental consent? From what I understand, the content of his speech centers on the importance of setting goals and getting an education, being of service to our fellowmen, and taking care of our earth. I did not vote for President Obama, and I do not agree with all of his policies; nevertheless, I respect him as the president of this great nation. This is NOT a state of the union address; nor is he “candidate” Obama. So why should “someone respond” to his remarks? He is the president. How would “someone” respond? Quit school? Turn against your neighbors? Trash the earth? Who is making this political? And why? Is the message one of indoctrination or one of concern about the youth of this nation? I prefer to believe it’s the latter. And if I am disappointed, I’ll talk to the children in our family about it.

My old school mate commented that she was too conservative for the conversation that eventually erupted, and I replied that I welcomed ALL comments. I think it’s a healthy discourse when people civally disagree. And then she added …