Celebrating St. Nicholas Day

When our children were born, we were thrust into the debate within Evangelical Christianity about Santa Claus.  Was it acceptable to include Santa Claus in the celebration of Christ's birth?  Wasn't it  basically just lying to your kids?  How could they ever believe anything you said when they found out Santa was a scam?  And, more importantly, wasn't it focusing on bags of presents and not celebrating the true meaning of Christmas? 

Aside from the fact that Christmas was originally attached to a pagan winter celebration, the intent of Christmas certainly was to celebrate the birth of Christ. Wanting to be perfect parents, and believing that every decision we made, no matter how minor, could have lasting repercussions for our children requiring years of therapy, we also wrestled with the evil Santa stigma.

Our children were 21 months apart, so the first few Christmases were "no big deal" because they didn't know what the heck was going on anyway.  However, when the Boy was approaching the age of three, we calmly explained the classic account of jolly Santa, the merry present-bringer. The Boy made the decision for us right then and there. Terrified. Period. He was wide-eyed freaked at the thought of a strange man sneaking into our house at night wearing a strange costume, regardless of what he was bringing in that bag on his back. It is kind of creepy when you think of it like that.

So from that point on, Santa Claus was spoken of to our children as he truthfully was -- a story, a legend, a great representation of wholesomeness by our friends at Coca-Cola.  We opened gifts on Christmas morning and for a few years retained the traditional American Christmas morning stockings. But at the same time, it was important to us as believers to celebrate Christ's birth in meaningful ways.  We just weren't there.  The overwhelming gifts buried the goal. How do we as Christ followers, as Americans, and as cultural participants surrounded by holiday Santa images, bridge the gap?  So we jumped into the Santa story more deeply as very naive ecumenical historians.  We took Santa back to his origins and to our surprise found Christ beyond the red suit.  It was wonderful and so very meaningful. We were also encouraged by the fact that in many European countries, St. Nicholas Day is the primary gift-giving day.  Husband and I took action and embraced the true St. Nicholas.  Simply, we would participate in a rich faith history and celebrate this saint who was the forerunner of our modern Santa Claus.

If you're not familiar with the account of St. Nicholas, it is basically this.  In the third century, Nicholas was a young priest of the church. As a young man, his service and faith elevated him to the role of church Bishop.  His area of service spread from Myra in southern coast of Turkey to surrounding areas. He was persecuted for his faith and suffered a lengthy imprisonment. After release from prison, he was numbered as a participant in the historic Council of Nicaea in AD325.  Nicholas was born into wealth but the accounts speak of him investing his inheritances into helping the poor, the sick, and the needy.  Nicholas  was known specifically for his generosity and kindness to children.  The most popular story is of Nicholas rescuing three girls from prostitution by paying their dowry for marriage. Seeking to remain anonymous, he tossed gold coins or gold bars through the window or down the chimney (different versions) which landed in stockings hung by the fire to dry. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, died on December 6, AD343.  He was a beloved champion of the faith and a key leader of the church in ministry to the less fortunate.  The early church elected Nicholas to sainthood and honored him annually on the date of his death as as St. Nicholas Day.

13th Century St. Nicholas Icon - Syria

Truthfully, there is historic debate as to whether St. Nicholas was in fact a real person.  Accounts differ, but many modern scholars and historians find the evidence convincing that St. Nicholas did indeed serve the church of Christ in southern Turkey.

So we welcomed the Bishop of Myra into our annual family Christmas celebrations and never turned back.  But why would a Protestant family choose to honor an ecumenical observance?  First of all, the church is the church "eternal" and "historical."  Secondly, it simply made real sense to our hearts.  Here are some great benefits we discovered as we began celebrating St. Nicholas Day on December 6:

• It's something fun to look forward to at the beginning of December.
• It was usually the first weekend after we had decorated (Thanksgiving) so Christmas was in full swing.
• Since St. Nicholas is a religious figure, it was easy to bridge to the story of Jesus.  Nicholas was a Jesus follower!  Everything fit together.
• Because we focused on St. Nicholas, Santa Claus became relegated to just another Christmas movie theme.  There were no big expectations Christmas morning for those extra big-ticket presents courtesy of a chimney invasion. Gifts given on Christmas morning were clearly to honor friends and family.
• We kept Christmas gifts to a minimum and focused on bigger gift celebrations for our children's birthdays.
• It allowed us to also jump from St. Nicholas Day to Christmas via family Advent celebrations taking a Christ focus from Thanksgiving all the way through the season.
• While all the other kids were in stressful "waiting" mode for December 25, our kids entered the month enjoying some early gifting.

Starting December with a celebration reminding our kids of the history of this wonderful, kind-hearted, giving person helped us to transition to a more healthy mindset of being giving persons ourselves.

 What did the celebration of St. Nicholas Day look like for our family? 

• The stockings were generally like any other stockings, except we always included in the stocking a few things that are traditionally associated with St. Nicholas -- a bag of gold-wrapped chocolate coins, something wooden, gingerbread.
• Each stocking included a special tree ornament picked out to represent something memorable from that child's experiences that year. The ornament would then be added to the family tree as a new decoration to enjoy through the holiday.
• We had a special breakfast -- a bit tricky when St. Nicholas Day fell on a school morning, but it always worked out.
• We tried to have some sort of charitable or special donation as part of our celebration.  For example, we would pack Samaritan's Purse shoe boxes, or help with the Angel Tree party at church for children of prisoners.
• We would read Christmas books together each night, starting with the funny ones at the beginning of the month and moving into the more serious books about Christ's birth as we got closer to Christmas.
• The now-empty stocking would remain on the mantle through the holiday just as decoration and a reminder of giving, not as another thing to expect more "stuff" on Christmas morning.

Although the Boy and Girl are no longer home for St. Nicholas Day, we still try to get something special to them each December 6.  We secretly think they look forward to that surprise box from UPS. This year we will come full circle and do stockings on Christmas morning again, because that's when we're together.  And although we're not together to do a charitable project, we now include in their stockings a charitable gift in their name.

For us, St. Nicholas Day was a way to help make the Christmas season everything we desired for our family.  It wasn't always perfect, but it helped us focus on the reason for the season.

For more information on St. Nicholas, click here.

Granny's Cast Iron Skillet

This is Granny's cast iron skillet. 

At least, she was called Granny when I first met the cast iron skillet.  But she informed her grandchildren that she no longer wanted to be called Granny because she looked it up in the dictionary and it meant old woman.  She seemed ancient to us, but looking back, I'm sure she was probably in her late 40's, certainly not 50 yet.  Just a kid by my standards today.  So we called her Grandma.  Years later, my sisters and I were taking our kids to see their Great Grandma and my daughter got mixed up and said, "I just can't wait to see my Great Big Grandma!"  So that's who she was for the rest of her life, although she was not Great Big!  At all!

Granny and me.  First grandchild.  #win

Grandma with grandkids. I'm crying because I have to sit on the grass.

Great Big Grandma with the great grandkids

But back to the cast iron skillet.  This skillet has seen a lot of years and a lot of cooking.  Bacon, sausage, chicken, squirrel.

It began its work early in the morning.  By 5:30 am, we would smell sausage or bacon cooking so Poppy Ed could eat and then tend to the cows.  WFAA radio had a super strong signal that reached from Dallas all the way to Lane, Oklahoma and accompanied the cooking.

Granny and Poppy Ed

In later years, after Poppy Ed died, the smell of early morning breakfast was also accompanied by cigarette smoke, a vice Granny, um, Grandma, had hidden from all of us for many years.  Fortunately, as far as I know, no ashes made it into whatever was cooking in the cast iron skillet.  But the way she fried stuff, it probably would have been delicious.

Breakfast almost always had sausage or bacon or both, biscuits (from a can, interestingly enough), and fried or scrambled eggs. Gravy.  I don't remember any frou frou dishes such as French toast or pancakes. Certainly not omelets or quiche. Any sausage or bacon that was left over sat on the stovetop for hungry granddaughters to grab later.  With a cold biscuit, also on the stovetop.  Next to the cast iron iron skillet, which may or may not still have grease in it until lunch.

Lunch was usually the big meal with the previously mentioned fried chicken and/or squirrel.  I honestly don't think I ever chose the squirrel, but it didn't look that different from the chicken and it was all on one platter.  So....maybe I ate squirrel.  Mashed potatoes, green beans and corn.  From the garden that you had to hike what seemed like miles through barbed wire to get to.  This was not an adventure for city girls, but my sisters and I did it anyway.  The green beans required snapping, which we helped with on the front porch.  The corn needed shucking, which we did once in the back of a pickup.  No idea why that was.  We never questioned why anything was done the way it was, until a few years ago.  My sisters were snapping beans outside by Sister 3's pool and it was blazing hot.  Finally, Sister 2 said "Is there any reason we can't do this in the house?"

 Holiday table.  To the left is platter of fried things next to mashed potatoes. Fruit is wax!

After lunch, the cast iron skillet was done for the day, because dinner would be leftovers from lunch. It needed its rest because the next day started early.

It is in this skillet I cooked my first meal, under Grandma's supervision.  She pulled a recipe from one of those homemade cookbooks like churches sell for fundraisers.  I remember it being a Girl Scout stew recipe.  The only time I ever knew her to reference a recipe was helping me cook this meal.  And although you can find virtually anything on the internet, I haven't been able to find what I think is the exact recipe.  But it was a pretty standard formula.

Brown ground beef and onions.  Layer in some order tomatoes, corn, green beans.  Maybe cheese?  At this point my memory gets fuzzy.  I think it was yummy.  I have never made it again.

When it became necessary for Grandma to move to a nursing home, my mother and her sisters cleaned out the house, and mother brought me the cast iron skillet.  Grandma knew this for some reason, and frequently fretted to my mom that she needed to season that skillet for me.

I wish she could have seasoned it for me, BUT I was able to find instructions for seasoning the skillet online.  I think of her every time I cook in it.  The other night I made my own layered stew of sorts.  Mushrooms and onions layered with chicken and roasted in the cast iron skillet.  The green beans were out of a can, because I don't have a garden to hike miles to through barbed wire.  And I didn't have to sit in the sun and snap them.  There are, after all, taste sacrifices to be made for convenience.  I have yet to fry my first squirrel, but if I ever do, you can bet I will fry it in Granny's cast iron skillet.

Adventures in Knee Surgery

(Disclaimer:  As God is my witness, I did not make any of this up.)

The old people decline in our household has begun.  Not so much with me, of course, because I am much younger, but with the Husband, bless his heart.  Among other ailments, he has within the past few months developed a tear in his meniscus.  No skiing accident, basketball accident or even falling on ice.  The doctor's professional diagnosis: "You're getting old."  Next up is surgery.  OK, we can do this.  And by we, I mean Him.

Artist's rendering of my healthy knee, left, and husband's knee, right

Fortunately, he goes to pre-admission before the surgery so he can get all of the medical questions and preliminaries (including jaw-dropping prepayment) out of the way. Name.  Birthdate.  What are you having done?  Are you diabetic?  Do you have any metal implants? Do you wear dentures?  Contacts?  Please pay now. This will save us a lot of time on the day of the surgery.  Plus, we get to pay up front!  Yay!

Day of surgery arrives.  Husband says I can just drop him off.  No, I insist on accompanying him.  You're going under anesthesia, I say.  I'm not taking any chances of something happening when I'm not there. Turns out anesthesia was the one thing I probably didn't have to worry about.

No one is available to check us in, but eventually Husband chases someone down, and only an hour after our scheduled check-in time, we are allowed back to pre-op.

Nurse 1 comes in with computer.  Name? Birthdate?  What are you having done? Are you diabetic?  Any dentures, contacts, metal implants, jewelry?  (So much for pre-admission.)  Husband indicates his wedding ring.

N1:  That's gonna have to come off.

H:  I can't get it off.

N1:  Well I can try to wrap something around it in between the finger and ring.

H:  Can't you just wrap sterile tape around it?

N1:  No, there has to be something between the ring and finger because if you start bleeding and they have to cauterize, the sparks will go straight to the metal and burn your finger.  (She turns back to computer.)  But I've only seen it happen a couple of times.

At this point Nurse 2 comes in to insert an IV.  She is on the generous size and has to MOVE THE BED in order to have room to sit down and do the IV.  What are you having done? Are you diabetic?  She then begins to narrate the procedure, sort of to herself, but loud enough for us to hear. 

N2:  Hmmmm, when I push it up further, it stops dripping.  But when I pull it down a little, it drips again.  Push it up, it stops.  I pull it down, it drips.  (Yes, she is pushing and pulling as she says this.)  Well, I guess this will have to do. I'd like it to go a little faster but I guess it will be fine.

Meanwhile, across the way, behind the soundproof curtains, we hear FOUR nurses trying SEVEN times to get an IV in another patient.  How do we know this?  Because they are narrating their procedure too!  Were they all trained to do this?  I'm surprised I haven't passed out by now.  The only thing keeping me from doing so is the thought that if I faint, they might try to put an IV in.

Handy chart I will be taking with me next time.  Except there will be no next time.

I begin monitoring the drip myself.

Nurse 3 now enters and introduces herself as husband's nurse for the procedure. She opens her clipboard and begins:  Name? Birthdate?  What are you having done? Are you diabetic? Implants, dentures, contacts, jewelry?

Husband indicates wedding ring.

N3:  Well, that's gonna have to come off.

H:  I can't get it off.

N3:  Dr. Surgeon is a real stickler for jewelry.  We need to get it off. You could start swelling after surgery, and it's really not worth losing your finger over.

H:  It won't come off.

N3: Ok, well we have a little trick we use that sometimes works.  We'll try that.

I've seen this Youtube video that shows an elaborate wrapping of elastic or ribbon to compress your finger and then reverse the wrapping so the ring gradually comes off.  So I'm thinking this is the trick they're gonna use, and I really want to see this in real life.

But this is not their trick.  You know what their trick is?  LOTION.  That's the trick.  N2 hands Husband the lotion and says just rub that around on your finger and see if the ring comes off.  Like that hasn't been tried before.  However, I say, if it works, pass it over.  I'd like to get my wedding ring off too.

Since this wasn't magic lotion, trick fails.  Who could see that coming?  Not N1, N2 or N3 apparently.  So N1 cuts a finger off a latex glove and begins to tediously wrap it around the ring to cushion the finger.  This takes about three weeks.  Then she says, "Maybe that will work."  She turns back to the computer.  "And maybe it won't happen."

Husband and I can no longer make eye contact.  But I do lean over to him and whisper, "Sweetheart, if I don't see you again, I want you to know that I love you and you have always been the only one for me."

Dr. Surgeon comes in and thankfully, knows what procedure is being done and what knee it is being performed on, which he initials, in case he gets flustered in the OR and can't remember.  Dr. Surgeon reminds the nurses to do a full body shave. HAHAHA.  He is just joking!  What a cut-up Dr. Surgeon is, pun intended.  Just the knee shave, N1.

N1 proceeds to shave the knee, and we wonder if we could have saved any money by doing this part at home. Actually, we are now wondering if we could have saved a lot of money by skipping the procedure all together. 

 Dr. Anesthesia comes in.  We love Dr. A.  He knows his stuff and is funny without being annoying.  I'm pretty sure Husband will wake up from the procedure, with or without his ring finger. 

 Because Dr. A seems so knowledgeable, I ask him how long until show time. He assures me they are just about ready, and he will have Husband back to me within the hour.

And he's right!  I knew I could trust Dr. A.  Unfortunately, Dr. A has nothing to do with release procedures.  We are back to N1 and N3. When we can find them.  Believe it or not, Husband is finding the IV very painful. N3 says she can't remove it until she is sure he is drinking properly.  He reminds her he just finished a can of Sprite. Not enough evidence.  

Finally, N3 comes in with post-op procedures and release paperwork. This takes approximately another two days to explain. But, now we are free.

I am happy to report that Husband is recovering nicely, despite all efforts of the hospital staff to make sure that did not happen.  He is now back to his normal grumpy self, which I love and complement with my unending stream of smiling sunshine. Hahaha, no, we are both back to our normal grumpy selves.

We now return to our regularly scheduled lives.

Butter, Brooklyn and Broadway -- Day Three

Day 3 Summary - Son walks very fast, intentionally trying to lose parents

Y'all better brace yourselves, because today is the most New York day of all the days we have spent in New York.  Let's start with breakfast.  I mention that we should really have authentic bagels while we're in New York.  The boy approves bagels from Murray's, and my dear sweet husband, love of my life, he with the injured knee, walks six blocks, in the snow, uphill both ways, to bring us back delicious bagel breakfast sandwiches.  We are off to a good start.  [After this was originally posted, an important correction was requested by the husband, and I quote: Love the blog post dear heart- but just to set the record straight the bagel delivery racked up 20 blocks round trip. Next time your wife says "it's just down the street" ask to see the map.]

First on the agenda today is the Frick Collection, one of the boy's favorite museums.  On Sunday, it's pay what you wish from 11:00 to 1:00, so we have time to walk through a different part of Central Park on the way.  The boy knows where he's going, so we meander along behind him.  Music is everywhere -- some are organized, planned performances but there are a lot of itinerant musicians out there.  My favorite is the woman on accordion.  My favorite WAS going to be this group that sounded fantastic when I thought they were all acapella, but then I realized they were singing with a track.  

Before crossing over to the museum, we end up in the center of the park at Bethesda Fountain and Terrace.  Photo op! The boy hates being photographed, but we love it!  We think we still look young and hip and in love. Hahahahahaha.  Please don't miss the perfect positioning of the pigeon on top of the angel.

Reaching the Frick, we realize that the artwork inside is only part of the museum.  The house itself is a work of art.  Built during the Gilded Age by Henry Clay Frick, the house was designed to actually be a museum after his death, so it is almost unchanged since the time Frick lived here.  

In the center of the home is a beautiful courtyard, where on selected Sunday afternoons materials are provided for sketching.  Today is such a day.

Are you following here?  Bagels, Central Park, museum, sketching in the museum courtyard.  We are so New York today.

Lunch!  I mean brunch!  Tavern on the Green!  Well, here's the deal.  The thought and experience of eating at Tavern on the Green was far better than actually eating at Tavern on the Green.  They were out of our first choice, and there were definitely issues with some of our order.  If I were to go back for brunch, and I probably wouldn't, I would not go with the prix fixe menu.  Just not worth it.  And I would definitely select a different entree.  But the most likely scenario, should I ever return, would be to try dinner.  But all was not in vain, as I did leave with a cool Tavern on the Green mug and apron. 

Back to the hotel to rest because tonight we are going to be oh so touristy and go to the Empire State Building to watch the sun set.  

The Empire State Building is about three blocks from our hotel, and we set off about 7:00.  We have express tickets to bypass the line, but here's a little tip for you if you decide to do that. Stop at the information desk and ask how it works, and then EVERY EMPLOYEE you see show them you have an express pass.  There are NO signs or directions and if you don't ask, you will end up in line with the unwashed masses.  It took us a bit to figure this out, but we basically had escorted service once we asked someone.

That is where the magic ended.  Once on the observation deck, you're on your own.  With the unwashed masses. Hundreds, nay, thousands of people!  Is there no limit to what the deck can hold?  Apparently not, because more and more people are crowding in.  It is impossible to move, let alone take in the view or take pictures.  You have to be very alert in order to grab a place next to the rail when someone vacates it.  

Here's another thing.  It is not romantic at all.  Maybe if we were there at midnight?  Is that when it's romantic?  We are too old to find out.  We are glad we went, and glad we got an obligatory tourist picture.  But we are one and done for the Empire State Building.  

And that, folks, is our three perfect days in New York.  We will return.  Once the boy has recovered sufficiently from this visit.

Butter, Brooklyn & Broadway -- Day Two

Day 2 Summary -- Son walks very fast, occasionally stops to wait for parents, who are older than they were yesterday

Day 2 promises to be especially exciting as we are gonna see the REAL New York.  That's right, it is subway time!  We have seen all those Youtube videos of subway entertainment and can't wait to see what unexpected exhibition may be in store for us.  However, our ride on the subway is so civilized that I fear we have gotten on a London train by mistake.

Our destination this morning is the 9/11 Memorial Museum.  The Memorial is two pools set in the footprints of the original Twin Towers.  Waterfalls cascade down the sides into a pool and then into a seemingly endless hole in the middle.  The number of names inscribed on the sides of the pools is sobering. It's a thoughtful, beautiful remembrance.  I'm relieved to see that no one is dangling their feet in the water, as I saw people do at the WWII Memorial in DC.

Our ticketed entrance is 9:30am, so I check with the husband for the time.  He looks at his phone and says "9:11."  The boy and I both look at him, a little startled.  He shrugs.  "That's what it says."  We decide we better get in line.

The museum is basically underground, and parts of the original foundation and columns are visible at certain locations.  The main rooms are immense, with high ceilings and lots of open space.  The largeness of the space appropriately matches the enormity of the 9/11 attack.  People are almost completely silent.  That's how well this museum is doing its job.

The individual exhibits are smaller and feel more closed in, and seem to mirror the entrapment of those caught in the Towers that day.  Throughout the museum, audio can be heard of family and friends of victims reading their names at the memorial service, as well as 911 calls and eyewitness accounts.  Minute by minute on the various timelines, the attacks and aftermath happened so fast and yet in slow motion.  Your eyes and ears are filled with the horror and sadness and anger of the day, translating into your own emotions.

I was not prepared for how emotional this experience would be for me, although I have felt the same intensity of sadness when visiting the Sixth Floor Museum in Dallas and the Oklahoma City Memorial.  All these unspeakable tragedies brought the country together in grief, if only briefly.  Reliving each one of them is a poignant reminder of how fragile and uncertain life is. 

Eventually, you arrive at a room that is brightly lit.  An architectural model of the Twin Towers is in a glass case in the center of the room.  On the walls surrounding it are tributes to New York before 9/11 -- showing what a visible presence the towers were in movies, press photos, and souvenirs.  It appears New York will always be divided into two time frames -- before 9/11 and after.  The placement of this room is a relief from the heaviness you have just experienced.  It even has benches as if the museum designers knew you would be ready for a break. 

Exit through the gift shop.

Back in the bright sunlight, we head back to the subway.  It's time to see where the boy lives in Brooklyn, and as concerned parents, of course we want to see what kind of nasty hell-hole this apartment is.  The walk from the subway to his apartment is pleasant, through a nice, quiet neighborhood.  Yay!  The apartment, which he shares with two roommates, is small, but neat and clean.  Everything has a place -- and there's a place for everything!  Let me tell you something, people who think the tiny house is a new trend.  New Yorkers have been living like this for years!  We love the apartment, his homemade chicken salad and the life he is building for himself.  

As much as we've enjoyed our subway experiences, we have also been sorely disappointed, and take a cab back to the hotel.  Our driver is normal and speaks perfect English.  New York, is there nothing about you in the movies that is real?

Dinner and a rest (presumably for the old people, but might I mention that the boy also takes a snooze?  Presumably from the emotional draining of being with the old people).  It's getting dark, and the boy and I decide to head out for a walk.  Husband's old man knee is giving out and he passes on the outing, but offers helpful advice as we leave.  "Be careful!  Guard your purse!"  We step into the hallway, the boy rolls his eyes and says, "It's not like that, Mom."  Yet another in a long line of New York disappointments.

The hotel is only a few blocks from Times Square, so we must go there to see all the lights.  And it is gloriously lit.  And terribly crowded. You guys. We are in Times Square on Saturday night.  The boy confesses, "This isn't my favorite part of New York."  So now we're on 44th Avenue, also known as Rodgers & Hammerstein Way.  I love this!  Broadway shows one right after the other!  Even though we've elected not to attend a show this weekend, it makes me happy just being in their presence.  

And Day 2 is a wrap.  But we still have Day 3 to come!