Writing is like being able to put life into a snow globe. It takes the things that are too big and scary and reduces them into a form that I can put away when I want and look at from a distance. It also takes all that’s good in life and captures it into something I can take out when I want and look at close up and keep forever. It makes the bad things into something I can hold…and the good things into something I can hold onto. Both help so much that I need that little souvenir of life.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The festivities have grown over the years, and it is spectacular. Here was a real-life version of those nostalgic little Christmas towns that people try to capture in ornaments.
As I sprinted down the damp streets, an old-time, velvet-cloaked Kris Kringle waved a gloved hand at me and smiled a genuine smile. Smoke billowed the scent of roasting chestnuts from the street corners. People hugged their mugs in icy hands, breathed in the chocolate-scented steam, or cradled homemade cookies in their mittens. Bundled, pink-cheeked children clung to their parents’ hands and tried to keep up, jiggledy-frolicky bounce, pom-poms dancing.
When I finally got to Main Street Books, Vicki was there to greet everyone in a scene right out of a Christmas calendar. Upstairs sat six smiling friends: Linda O’Connell, Becky Povich, Theresa Sanders, Sherri Stanczak, Pat Wahler, and Patsy Zettler. Below are (far left to right) Pat, Becky and Linda.
The parade started shortly after I got there, and we had a great view from upstairs. We met many new people, saw some beloved old friends, and as always, laughed.
Stay tuned for Part II—Doug Hauls Asses.
Minister at a service we attended on Christmas Eve, 2006: “Love wins.”