My Family Christmas

It’s been 16 years since they sat around the same table together. One coming out of a troubled marriage, one lost among her own stress of life, one other with a missing granddaughter and the last one hiding behind his built up walls afraid of them falling brick by brick. Bridges had been burned but lessons were learned. Sitting there among them was the woman who raised them with all her love and adoration. She silently sat there with her own troubles, but thankful for every page turned. As they sat there encircled amongst each other there was an undeniable warmth permeating the room as the five of them sat sipping their drinks….a tangible intimacy in which they all were reveling in. It was something they had been missing for sometime now. As their grandson, nephew and son I sat there taking it all in.

Over the last 16 years people had come and gone. Some marriages dissolved, children grew, homes had expanded and wrinkles formed upon the surface of their family. Around that table hung the epicenter of their former life together.

With the presents already opened Christmas had nearly come and gone. With a few hours of daylight left I sat in the stuffed recliner pondering the meaning of family and the tradition of coming together to share memories, laughter, heartache and tears….plenty of which surfaced this holiday season.

Eventually every suitcase had been repacked and hugs were freely given with each family member heading back to their homes ready to start the New Year. The future suddenly became magnificently uncertain as it seemed to be the last time for another few years before everyone would step back into this warm home again. It was a great Christmas….one full of truth, warmth and love.

100,000 miles. A novel.

Yesterday I hoped for the best. I wasn’t betting on world peace, winning the lottery or the war to end. Instead I hoped for something a bit simpler in life. A great flight home after a pleasant trip to Portland was all I needed.

Yesterday was supposed to be great because it was the day that I accumulated 100,000 frequent-flier airline miles. Though I have netted over 130,000 miles in my account over the last four years I have never at once had 100,000 sitting there together. I was blessed with a great trip to Cabo San Lucas two years ago thanks to some of those miles but today was the day….100,000 miles sitting together tightly woven from numerous trips, layovers and experiences. However, there I sat on the faded blue carpet waiting by gate C-11 in the DFW airport. On my right stood a young thug dressed in baby blue sweats calling all his suppliers using every expletive in the book while on my left, wreaking of alcohol, sat a drunk guy muttering his every desire to each female that walked by us…..when he wasn’t burping out loud. Earlier he had asked an airport employee walking by if he could have another beer thinking she could hook him up. Instead he sat there denied of such privileges trying to strike up a conversation with me while I purposefully tried ignoring him. There I sat in the middle hoping 100,000 miles would get me somewhere else other than the faded blue carpet that lied beneath the alcohol fumes mingling in the air.

My flight from PDX to DFW was nothing near gold treatment. Honestly I was hoping for a free upgrade to first class thanks to my loyal four years of traveling with this particular airline. However, due to the flight being overbooked my reserved seat was moved from the middle of the plane to the second row from the back. While those in front of me had great views of the passing mountains and sunset in air I peered out to a jet engine. It was my now my job to carefully making sure no screws popped loose as we increased elevation.

As our plane backed from the gate an older disheveled lady asked the flight attendant, “Will the jets on the outside of the plane from our exact seats create a magnetic field?” The stewardess calmly searched for the right answer obviously not knowing it. Before having a chance to speak the old lady started demanding an answer saying that she had a pacemaker in her body and would face serious problems if she encountered this magnetic field. As our plane continued taxing down the runway the old lady finally got up and quickly stumbled into another seat a few rows up. Technically her move was illegal but desired by those around me. Many chuckles could be heard above the roar of the engine outside my window. With the absence of old lady I soon settled into my seat diving into my GQ magazine hoping to pass the time.

Landing in DFW with a few minutes to kill on layover I had hoped to grab a bite to eat and make a few phone calls. Because my engine-view seat sat right behind the flight attendants kitchenette I had no place to stow my orange carry-on bag but above in the storage compartment. As we taxied into the airport gates the captain informed us that we would be sitting for 15 minutes while a plane backed out of the gate we were approaching. I sat starting at the blank wall in front of me for 15 minutes. 20 minutes. At 35 minutes my eyes became heavy but perked back up when a frantic flight attendant came down the isle asking us to empty the storage compartment above my head.

My orange bag landed in my lap sooner than I anticipated, but I was thankful to have my cell phone in reaching distance now. As I turned it on to see the local time more bags began to fall out of the compartment above me. A second flight attendant ran back to us describing a certain backpack she was looking for, “the one with blue and silver!” While the bag was not easy to find buried under layers of coats and other bags an argument ensued between the two flight attendants. The argument was over the amount of time it was taking to find the particular blue and silver bag as it contained the medicine that old lady needed immediately due to our delay in getting off the plane. This helped pass a few moments of irritating time, but before all was said it done it had been one and a half hours that we sat on the tarmac waiting for an open gate.

As I exited the plane I ran to the nearest flight information screen in terminal-D to find my connection flight. It had been delayed to 9:08pm. Yet looking at my clock it was currently 9:10pm. Armed with both carry-on bags in hand I ran down terminal-D, up a flight of stairs, across three moving sidewalks, down another flight of stairs pass 17 gates in C-terminal only to find that my connection gate was headed to Denver and not OKC. With sweat dripping from my forehead I quickly approached the nearest flight information screen to see that my flight now was not on the screen anymore. It no longer existed. The next flight out was not for another hour and a half. I quickly scanned the terminal looking for any airline employee who could direct me to the right person or place so I could get home. She was there at gate C-14.

I approached C-14, still trying to catch my breath, and caught the first place in line. As I stepped up to the front counter an older business man quickly jumped in front of me and asked a question about his connection flight. This day was not getting any better. The employee asked if he had missed flight 792, which happened to be my flight. I spoke up only to find out that I had fully missed my flight. I was booked on standby for the next flight out. Unfortunately I was number 15 on the standby list.

Starving and tired I walked over to a fast food counter ordering something to resemble a dinner. I placed two phone calls as I carried my bagged food and two carry-on bags down to my new gate. I sat down for barely five minutes before the loudspeaker came on and announced that my fight had a gate change. I lost my appetite and threw my untouched food away before waking down to gate C-11.

The next hour did not pass quickly as I stressed over the situation sitting in my lap. Again, there I was sitting on the faded blue carpet hoping my miles could get me anywhere but there. Maybe 100,000 miles could bump me to the front of the standby list and place me in a first class seat.

Group by group passengers loaded the plane as I sat there in a blank stare hoping to hear my name called. Every name in the book was called it seemed except mine. Seat by seat the waiting area cleared making room for me and my two bags. It was going to be a long night. As I sat down I noticed to my left a US soldier dressed in uniform standing against a wall. He seemed to be waiting for the same flight I was. This made him standby passenger 14 or 16 as the entire area eventually cleared except for he and I. My name was eventually shouted out as I quickly looked up to make eye contact with the gate agent. A rush of relief came over me knowing that I could make it home tonight. I grabbed my bags and ran up to the counter looking back to see the soldier standing there alone. It hit me then. Though I wanted something simple to happen today I wasn’t asking for anything huge like the war to end. However, I could give up my chair and let this soldier head home. If anything maybe the war could end for his parents whom he was possibly heading to see. I spoke in a hushed tone with the gate agent telling her I wanted to give up my seat for this uniformed soldier. She ripped up my ticket and called this young man telling him a seat opened up for him. I walked to the nearest chair ready to collapse and settle in until I could be hooked up with a hotel voucher. After all maybe that’s what 100,000 miles could get me…a free hotel in a strange town. Plus, when am I ever afforded the luxury of having some alone time outside of my home? It was all beginning to sound nice to me.

Before I became too comfortable I heard my name once again. The gate agent asked me to follow her as she walked down the ramp to the jet. Thinking there was one more seat available I followed her directions. She stepped into the jet as I remained outside until she reappeared. Mumbling a seat number she told me to step on in and grab a seat. Relief, once again, came over me. I walked down the isle feeling hundreds of eyes on me. I glanced at first class before stepping back in coach and noticed the soldier sitting there in 3B. There it was….the first class seat I was hoping for all day. Instead I was welcomed to a window seat at the back of the plane. I settled in and looked out the window only to see darkness. Once again the jet engine sat outside my window accompanying me for the final flight home.

100,000 miles got me home last night, safe and sound.

Bring on the cheer...

After telling my family tradition story of putting up the Christmas tree I continue the saga starting with this past Thursday evening.

The eastern wind continued blowing this week coming out of the gorge carrying itself over the city. With temperatures dropping quickly my brother, E, and I headed out to find the best Christmas tree there was. Or rather, the one closest to home for under $20 that could lay on top of his Ford Taurus. We drove down to our usual spot to find the place was not up and running this year so we continued down the road. We saw a sign that read, "Boy Scout Troop, All Douglas Firs $15." E and I debated over the course of seven seconds deciding if we should stop or continue on before I shouted, "Dad will be proud of us for supporting the scouts!" After all both E and I are Eagle Scouts. With this said and an illegal turn around across four lanes of empty road we pulled into the dust blown parking lot.

E pulled the car up by the leaning trees not sensing the need to follow any sort of formal parking position. Placed in front of us were two small rugged trailors large enough to hold maybe one adult. Tarps lay over each of them hiding their flaws of age and deteriation. One could easily guess the number of bodies laying lifeless out back behind this makeshift community. We sat motionless in the car with the cold wind howling as we surveyed the trees from our warm seats. "Does anyone work here? Where are they?", E whispered. At that exact moment a door swung open from one of the trailors with a rugged gentleman stepping out. We quickly followed suit and soon stood amongst the trees picking some upright while debating which one had a more full look. E and the gentleman conversed for a moment until I settled on the perfect tree. An eight foot tall Douglas Fir.

We watched our tree being placed on a table for trimming and roping, as a second gentleman appeared from the other trailer. He appeared to be older in age and could act as Santa Claus with the size of his belly. He seemed cordial as he joked about the wind and helped his cohort do the final preparations of the tree. E walked over to the car planning to warm it up and roll down the back two windows so rope could be pulled thru them to help tie down the tree. I finished up the business of paying and thanking the men as they carried the tree over to the car and placed it on top. The back windows still were not down as I proceeded to the front seat asking E again to roll the windows down.

"The cars not starting," E said with panic in his tone. "My brake is locked...nothing is working." I stood frozen for a second thinking what could possibly be done to help us get back home and out of the wind. "Have you jiggled the steering wheel or jolted the gear shift some as you try turning the key?," I asked. E proceeded trying every move to get his car started as the two gentleman continued securing the tree down. Without them knowing was was happening the reached in and threw some rope across E's lap as he handed it over to me. I held it in place till one of the gentleman came and took over. I laughed to myself that these two guys basically just created a clothesline with twine across the front two seats...not exaclty safe especially with E driving. When he drives it means he flies and you better hang on for dear life if you're along for the ride. This clothesline would easily scalp us if we ended up in a ditch or wrapped around a tree on the way home.

I eventually walked around to the driver’s side and tried to get the car up and running myself while E stood in the open door way. No luck landed in my lap. E and I traded places while he tried again. This time he shut his door, called our dad and just sat there. I stood there frozen not knowing what to say to these guys. It was the feeling of walking into a large room naked. I stood there silent. These two guys stood there staring at me in silence. We we’re going nowhere. A minute or so passed and I thanked the gentleman and ran to the passenger side of the car getting inside to warm up, or get out of the wind and the dust blowing into my eyes.

As we waited for my dad to come check out the situation the two gentlemen got in their shared truck and sat there waiting in the warmth. They sat in their car staring coldly at us. We sat in our car frozen and frustrated, staring back with silence.

Ten minutes slowly passed feeling more like 30-minutes. We anxiously sat waiting for dad to arrive and rescue us when E reached into his coat pocket and found another key. It was then that he realized that thru this entire ordeal he had been using the trunk key to start the car. With a rush of relief coming over both of us I quickly layed my seat down and ducked as E started the car. I had no intentions of being looked at again by the lot owners. They heard the car start and looked over with surprise in their eyes as they walked towards our car. E rolled his window down to say, "I've been using the trunk key all this time.' As the gentleman chuckled at E's expense I was laying as low as possible hoping to not make eye contact. The first gentleman said,"we won't say a word about it!" adding to the humor of the situation. "We won't be seeing you again!" I shouted as E put the car in reverse.

We finally walked into the warm house with tree in hand only to get a lecture about true Eagle Scouts and how they would know how to get a car started without a key. That lecture was followed by how to start a fire without any matches.

My four walls

I sit here this evening in my cold empty apartment, stillness envelopes me. My walls remain empty of all personal mementos that recall the years where life seemed simple and grand. Though I moved to this place five months ago you would think walking in this evening I moved in two weeks ago.

I stepped into a neighbors home a few nights ago just to check in on her. Somehow over the weekend Christmas threw up in her apartment. An oversized fake tree sat in the corner brightly light and impeccably decorated with silver and gold balls. Greenery gently hung across her fireplace mantel putting off the scent of pine. Thru the French-doors the world stood still outside. Empty trees. Crisp leaves blowing. Footprints of snow from a few days earlier.

There inside her four walls I could barely find a place to sit. Years of Christmas memories spilled out of a green Rubbermaid container placed on the wood floor. Her next decision was finding a shelf or end-table to place knick-knacks on. It seemed there was a place for everything. It would only be a few more hours before the container sat empty ready to be stored on a top shelf in a closet next to some frumpy old sweaters.

Christmas was huge growing up and I loved everything about it. I recall the years of celebrating the family tradition of putting up the biggest live tree we could find that year. Never once did we succumb to being Wal-Mart consumers picking out a tree in a box. Some things were never meant for a box....like wine. The family tradition centered on decorating the tree with our personal ornaments, drinking eggnog and concluding the night with a few Christmas carols as a family. Thinking back I don't know how I managed to get thru that one night without laughing hysterically and upsetting my parents. All my ornaments to this day are still at home packed amongst the family Christmas decorations. Tradition in the family says that once I get married I will inherit all my ornaments for my own tree. In the meantime here I sit with no evidence of the holiday that looms over us.

I'll be home in a few days to start the annual festivities of putting up the tree. As a young adult now I'd rather sit on the couch with cider in hand, and point out all flaws of the tree and the placement of everyone's ornaments. I'll also be griping to my brother that he isn't putting up the lights correctly. Last year I tried hiding my ornaments hoping I didn't have to put them on the needled branches. However, I gave in and hung up half my ornaments for one week before bubble wrapping and packaging them for the next 359 days.

Maybe this year I can announce a fake engagement in order to bring the ornaments back to Oklahoma. I could store them here on a top shelf next to some unpacked boxes and pull them out next year in time for the holidays. But then again, I’ll have nothing to hang the ornaments on except these empty walls. Plus I’d have to find something else to do to in order to shake up my mother a bit causing her some grief over my love/hate relationship with my ornaments

24 hours or 1,440 minutes in a day

It just hit me today that I don't have much time left before I get back in my regular routine of life. I've had a nice break the last few weeks enjoying my four walls I call home. Over the past four years I have travelled anywhere from 172 to 220 days per year. Most of it for work. These are actual counted days where I did not sleep at my house. After looking at my calendar today this is what I am looking at for the next few weeks.

2 days left here in OKC
6 days in Portland
2 days in OKC
2 days in Tulsa
3 days in Branson
2 days in OKC
3 days in DFW
1 night in OKC
5 days in Nashville
...And a Partridge in a Pear Tree...

One of these days I'll post "Mr T's advice for travelling" for you to read. I can already picture how thrilled you are to hear that. However, with this much travel under my belt I've encountered many situations and learned hundreds of tricks/secrets about the travel industry. Some are rather fascinating and help make life a lot easier on the road. In the mean time I need to start some laundry and clean out the fridge before I hit the road. Somehow Christmas shopping ended up at the very end of my to-do list this year.

A Fortunate Day

Everyone loves a fortune cookie right? Thru the years you may have added two certain words to the end of each fortune, or asked everyone at the table to crack open the cookie at the same time for good luck. Nonetheless it’s the highlight of every meal at any Asian eatery. Typically these fortunes center on love, riches and/or power. The wisdom and prophecy causes you to think internally for the following 60 seconds seeing if this one sentence certainly applies to your life or not. I personally am a sucker for these bits of truth, or lack thereof. My fortune today over lunch read, "You believe in the goodness of mankind."

Recently I enjoyed dinner with a friend at a local Chinese restaurant. As history would prove most fortunes from those simple cookies apply to my life dead on. I rarely receive an unfortunate cookie. I tore into my cookie after dinner to receive “You will bring sunshine into someone’s life.” Yes, this is a pretty general statement applying to most everyone. My friend opens hers, frowned and quickly threw it down on her nearly empty plate. “Now hold on, you can’t do that,” I say. “Where’s the fun in that?” I retrieved her fortune and read, “Good things come to those who wait. Be patient.” How ironic is that? Her fortune centered on patience yet she acted like a six year old that has no idea what patience is. She was uninterested in her fortune, come to find out, because she has no patience for anything.

Every time I retrieve a fortune from a cookie I end up keeping it. There are times you could open my wallet and find three or four placed in there. I do nothing with them, except pile them up in a cup at work. Soon I’ll do something creative with them. I had two friends in college once make a homemade card for me using several fortunes glued onto the card. It read, “We hope you have a fortunate day.” Do you have any ideas on what to do with my fortune collection?

Seasons of Love

I’ve conversed thru a few conversations lately regarding the perfect gift this holiday season for the one you love. My thoughts are if you love he/she that much you would already know what to get that special person….so stop asking me what the perfect gift is. If you don’t know the answer already then you need to reevaluate your relationship.

For those of you who have recently spent time and energy looking for romance—this holiday season will be a downer for you. You will misguidedly spend too much money trying to buy it (love). All this money spent will be in the form of expensive dinners, impressive gifts and good tickets to pricey events….all meant to kick-start the blossoming of LOVE from an otherwise unwilling prospective girlfriend or boyfriend.

This confirms that truly, “You can’t buy love”.....unless you’re a millionaire of course. Then you probably can, just not quality love.

You have to be a billionaire to buy that.

The calm before the storm

A couple friends walked into the dining room last night in the midst of a conversation centered on the question of, “Am I approachable?” Laying down my Sunday paper and making eye contact with these two friends I immediately had the question lying on my lap. Trying to sound breezy and not at all nervous I let the question sink in. Since these two friends were females I soon became scared for my life. The intent of my sitting at their table reading a Sunday paper was to kill time till my free dinner was cooked and served. Would I be kicked out if I answered that honestly? Was there a good way to let one friend down and say “No!” while I stroked the other friends ego by saying, “Yes?” As these two girls sat on a weight scale in my mind I kept trying to find a way to make them sit evenly on the scale of approachableness. With all this going on in my head, images of a cold night ordering fast food in the drive thru lane were popping up if I were to answer this honestly.

I battled a few scenarios in my head (if only I had a dime each time I end up doing this act) till I eventually caved in and shared my honest answer. I’ve been told I’m a bit too honest with people so why stop hiding it tonight at this table? Plus I could easily hold up the Sunday paper classifieds if any objects were thrown my way. I stumbled my way thru a perfectly planned course of words letting them know that one friend was very approachable, while the other was less approachable due to her unassuming blank-thought stares and reputation for being a transplant and not a true Okie.

At this moment another guy stepped into the house only to be thrown the same question, by me this time. In blunt action he quickly elevated the two girls ego’s before instantaneously shooting me down with a direct, “not at all.” It was half expected from him to be honest, so no hurt feelings. Following this guy, two more females walked into the kitchen and were caught up to date on the story before they had even loosened their scarves and coats. They were asked the same question. This time I got a “well…um…ya…but you didn’t ever talk to me the first few times I met you.” Still, my cold heart wasn't broken (whew!).

It was a pathetic act...me trying to come up with a rebound but my mind was blank. I wasn't offended at all but still I couldn't place my finger on any one thing or situation that could have caused such ill feelings. I mean come on, I'm a lifetime member, card-carrying geek.

Somethings gone wrong

Spending some time at my friend K's house this evening I analyzed her homemade Xmas tree topper, "3 angels." Each angel (looking more like nuns to me) represents a roommate in the house complete with matching hair colors. I asked to be included in the tree, which K replied with no restraint, "you can be satan!" So I promptly made sure to include myself on their tree as the picture shows. My cousin's wife started a holiday nativity scene years ago using her troll dolls. She's posted a picture on her blog. She sets out this nativity scene every year during the holiday season complete with a satan troll (though all trolls like a bit evil to me). Since when do we start including satan in our holiday festivities? I don't recall seeing a collection of hallmark cards that say, "Seasons Greetings" with Satan sketched on the front side.

Thanks to Charlotte's comment in my last posting I must talk about "The OC" from last night. It has been brought to my attention today that others thought of me during the show last night. If you missed it, Marissa felt that she wouldn't be accepted into any college based on her previous records regarding Ryan's brother earlier this season. My favorite comment of the day comes from my good friend Krista. She literally shouted to her television set, "You can attend college at OC. They'll take you and I'm sure Matt would love to recruit you." Thanks K-dawg.

Place in this world...

This week I’ve been pondering the road and various paths I have taken to get here. I can’t quite detail what “here” means exactly but it’s what surrounds me everyday spiritually, intellectually, emotionally, and physically.
It was late winter my senior year of high school that I changed my mind and decided to attend OC for college. I have always dreamed of being a residential architect. I remember sitting in a church pew or sitting at home drawing houses as a little child. It’s something that stuck with me all the way thru my senior year of high school. While I can’t pinpoint what it was, somehow I decided to forgo my life-long dreams and major in business…until I took an accounting class. I eventually changed my major freshmen year of college to interior design, only to deal with a fire ruining our department and puting an immeasurable amount of stress on us. Interior design was the closest I could get to have my foot and life in the world of design. Ideally I planned to graduate in a decent amount of time (four years), but this fire proved to not permit that. So I moved on. I felt emptiness in me, but continued to attend school not knowing what I wanted to major in.
I was blessed to study abroad one semester and start new friendships that opened my eyes to a world of new things. I eventually changed my major to public relations in advertising and graduated with….grades (what? You thought I was going to say honors?) I’ve never regretted not pursuing a degree in architecture only because I don’t have the smarts to complete such a program; however I still crave for my hands to work in the world of design.
These past few months I have put that dream in the back of my mind and thought more about the careers in the health field. It could be the television shows I watch that center around this particular environment, but this past week I spent an incredible amount of time in some hospitals. I was enjoying it. I observed many nurses, doctors, and those university students who were examining my grandpa. I stared far too long and took too many mental notes enjoying the environment that was surrounding me as I sat there in support of a family member. It's the gift these doctors and nurses have to help someone choose life over death. To help them make a change in their life and continue on with their dreams and goals that attracts me.
Though the last thing I want to do is start school over again…and have to pay for it…It's odd to think that we’re never where we expect to be, yet its okay. I'm ready for a change in my life and lately a few doors have opened, however I'm scared to take that next step...so I currently stay "here" and will continue to live on.

Hello Nurse

This post is dedicated to Nurse Maggie at the Univ. of Missouri Medical Center. It’s you that I set my eyes upon as you walked into the room to check on my grandpa. It is you that I took photos of while you helped my grandpa with his IV…though you thought I was taking pictures of him for his hospital journal. It is you that I said “hello gorgeous” to when I walked back into the room…though I made it look like I was speaking to my grandpa so you wouldn’t see me drooling. Maybe I should sign up for a surgery so I can stay around a bit longer to see you.