And that wraps up our Christmas celebration

We took down our Christmas decorations today - the tree, the ornaments, the manger set - and put them in storage, where they'll stay until November 25, the day after Thanksgiving Day, when we typically decorate our home for the season. 

When I was child, everyone in my large family enjoyed participating in putting up the Christmas, but few were on hand to help take everything down and pack the boxes away in the attic. 

What a difference in moods. It's difficult to imagine a more striking contrast or one so stark. Holiday music played in the background as we decorated the house in December. Rarely was there a note of music played as we packed boxes in January. 

One month was filled with joy and speculation fueled by thoughts of what Santa Claus might bring. The next month was shrouded in dread, both for the dreary task of packing away the holidays and for the Midwest's bitter January weather. 

Consequently, the process of striking the holidays in my house back then was disorganized and hastily executed. Strings of lights were balled and shoved into bags. Ornaments, candlesticks, and assorted related items were snatched up and crammed into boxes with little regard for their safekeeping until next autumn. 

The long-dead tree dropped needles everywhere as it was dragged from the front room and dropped at the curb, where it sat until a disposal crew collected it later in the week.

It was not our finest work. Every November, as we unpacked the boxed decorations and untangled the strands of lights, we promised we'd do a better, more organized job of putting in away in January. 

We never reached that goal during my years in my parents' house, but my wife and I did a good job of it today.

We divided the tasks and carefully tucked away ornaments. I disassembled the artificial tree and secured it nicely in the storage room. The project took a few hours to complete, but the decorations are neatly packed and stacked.

It's taken us about 60 years to get it right, and hopefully I'll have another 50 years to perfect the process.

-- Thank you for reading. Comments are always welcome. You may post them here, or send an email to kbotterman@gmail.com. 

The value of Twelfth Night and the Epiphany

 So I'm sitting here on my sofa, contemplating the mighty wind that's blowing outside, (The local weather guy tells me the gusts are reaching 40 mph.) and preparing for our observation of the Twelfth Night and the Epiphany. 

The Twelfth Night is the twelfth night of Christmas, and the Epiphany (I capitalize the word, although many do not.) celebrates the arrival of the Three Wise Men to the stable in Bethlehem. My Dad always referred to it as the day "those three wise guys came to town."

Our observations of both are modest, out of financial necessity and tradition, but we find joy and comfort in taking at least a few minutes to mark the end of another Christmas season.

Many do not share our tradition. Several friends (don't worry, no names) look at the calendar and are quick to yell, "that's a wrap" and then strike the holiday set. Some do it December 27 others wait until January 2. But all are a little too quick to pull down the decorations - the lights, the tree - wreaths - and plunge ahead into the new year, I think.

Their reasons are many (and most are reasonable). "Oh, the season starts earlier and earlier each year, and I'm just ready for it to be done. Two months is long enough," one said.

"I'm busy, and need to do this while I have some time off from work," another told me.

"These things aren't going to put themselves away, you know. Besides, I hate a long goodbye," remains a favorite that was shared by a relative.

Others think waiting for the Epiphany only avoids the inevitable. It is to them akin to procrastination or laziness.

I understand their points, but I do not share their views. I thank my parents for that. Mom and Dad were serious Catholics. Mom thought we should adhere to the Church's calendar for such things. I always respected that perspective.

Dad was a bit more practical. He cherished Advent and the Christmas season, holding it as a special time of year. "Let's not rush to close the door on such beautiful days." 

I learned from Dad to value the traditions (universal and personal) of the season. Like him, I hold dear the warm and generous spirit of the season. It's difficult to feel it at other times of the year, and I have trouble finding it at all during the hot and humid days of August. 

And "Uncle" Ernie (not a relative, just a friend who wanted everyone to call him uncle, so we did) frequently said life would be so much better for most of us if we learned to enjoy things as they were happening and make those moments last for as long as possible. I agree.

So I appreciate the classic Christmas movies and the holy music. I watch the Hollywood classics and listen to music right through the Epiphany. The practice sustains me in my efforts to hold tight to the spirit of season. It warms my soul and lightens my heart.

That's why I still observe the Twelfth Night and the Epiphany. Besides, I'm in no hurry to pack up all the decorations and carry them to the downstairs closet. I'm kind of lazy that way. 

-- Thank you for reading. Comments are always welcome. You may leave one here or send an email to kbotterman@gmail.com. May the peace of the Christmas season be with you throughout the new year. 

That day I saw Sue Vann on television

 

While writing about my old tradition of watching college football games on New Year's Day, I remembered the day I saw Sue Vann on national television. 

Vann isn't her real last name, but Sue is her real first name. I changed her last name for this account, because she is a nice person, married and with children of her own. I wouldn't want her or her family to be embarrassed or troubled because I publicly associated myself with them, and that's typically how decent folk react when I tell others I know them. 

Sue and I attended the same middle school and graduated from the same high school. She was smart, attractive and charming; I wasn't any of those. Sue was polite to me in public, but also had the good sense to keep a safe distance from me, both physically and socially. 

I admired Sue, but also knew enough to understand we were in too completely social groups - her's being the equivalent of local gentry, and mine being widely recognized as the unwashed and unstable. Consequently, my admiration for Sue was harbored and unexpressed.

People today do not believe me when I describe for them the winters of the 1970s and early 1980s in the upper Midwest, but you can trust me when I tell you the winters then were bitterly cold. 

The winter of 1981-82 was little different from the 10 previous winters. Legendary Chicago meteorologist Tom Skilling reported that January 1982 was the fourth coldest January in Chicago's recorded history.

 

On Friday, January 1, 1982, New Year's Day, Chicago's high temperature was minus 26 degrees. January started bitterly cold and it remained that way for the entire month. 

The brutal weather that January 1 wasn't troublesome to me and my family because we spent most of the day indoors, doing what we did most New Year's Day in those years - watching the college football bowl games. 

We were (and I still am) fans of Big Ten football, so we made certain to watch the Rose Bowl game in those days. The University of Iowa Hawkeyes played the University of Washington Huskies in the 69th edition of the Rose Bowl. 

Elroy Barnes, a close friend from high school, joined us to watch the game. BTW, that's not his real name, but I can't use his real name for the same reasons I can't tell you Sue's real name. 

Elroy attended the University of Illinois and did not consider himself a Hawkeyes fan (neither did I, for that matter), but everyone in my TV room that day was pulling for Iowa to win, simply because the school represented the Big Ten that day. 

The great Hayden Fry coached the Hawkeyes that day, but Washington was at the top of its game, and that became apparent early on.  It was not the happiest of contests for a Big Ten fan, but then it happened. 

Just before going to a commercial break, the camera locked on a smiling, blond haired girl. She captured my attention and then recognized her. 

There on my TV screen, on national TV, was Sue Vann. There was some doubt in my mind, but then memory kicked in, and I recalled Sue was attending the University of Iowa. 

The striking blond, smiling and looking radiant in the warm sun of Pasadena, CA, was Sue Vann, a girl I was certain would love me if only she gave me half a chance.

And then the camera shot ended and a commercial started. I pointed to the TV and yelled, "Sue Vann! Sue Vann was just on TV." My Dad and Elroy stared at me blankly. They had been debating the merits of an official's call from earlier in the game and hadn't seen Sue's appearance.

I repeated that Sue Vann had just been on the TV. 

"Who the hell is Sue Vann?" asked Dad. He didn't wait for an answer, returning to his debate with Elroy, who was still deep in the grips of a hangover from a party the night before and could not multitask. 

I sat in silence, staring at the TV.

In the few years that had passed since last saw Sue, probably in 1979, I had all but forgotten about her, concerned more with the immediate demands of life. I was about begin classes in a few weeks at Northern Illinois University, following a couple of years at community college. 

But at that moment, everything I had ever thought, even fantasized, about Sue came rushing back from memory. Just a few years earlier my adolescent daydreams involved taking Sue to the movies, or out to dinner, maybe inviting her to prom. Crazy, heady stuff produced by the mind of a 17-year-old boy. 

The thoughts I considered long dead all flooded back at that moment. Was it unrequited lust, the remnants of adolescent infatuation, or authentic passion? Didn't matter. Anger and primal jealousy overwhemled those warm memories. 

Sue Vann was sitting in the warm California sun, having fun and looking beautiful. I was sheltering from a frozen hell, watching football with my Dad and Elroy. It wasn't fair. It wasn't real. It was beyond absurd. 

But reality set in. Anger passed, replaced by bitter acceptance and self pity. It wasn't absurd. It was real, and it was fitting. The breath-taking girl escaped the bitter cold, for at least a few days, and appeared on national TV, flashing a brilliant smile and looking stunning. 

Doesn't that just figure, I thought. I spent the remainder of the game waiting for shots of the crowd, perhaps the cameraman who had first focused on Sue would feature her again. It didn't happen. 

That one image was the only one I would have of her that day. It was soul crushing, but I found some pleasure in watching the Huskies top Iowa, 28-0, and life went on. 

I've held that image of Sue in my mind from that day to this. 

I crossed paths with her a few years ago and found the courage to ask Sue if she attended the 1982 Rose Bowl. Yes, she had attended that game. I said I believe I saw her on TV during the game. I had, she said. Family and friends who watched the game on TV that day told her later they had seen her bright, shining moment.  

It was a memorable day, she said, but Iowa's loss made it a disappointing day.

Not for me, I thought. Not disappointing at all. 

-- Thank you for reading. Comments and questions are always welcome and may be posted or emailed to kbotterman@gmail.com.

Remembering a New Year's Day tradition

 

I am sitting on my sofa, watching snow fall and listening to Otto snore. Lori is involved in a phone conversation with a friend. I mourn my late tradition of watching the major college bowl games on New Year's Day.

The adoption of the college football playoff system a few years back killed a tradition I observed since childhood. In those years, my family would gather in our TV room on New Year's Day, eat food, nurse hangovers (some of us, at least), nap, and watch hours of football. 

The day might involve four, maybe five different bowl games and several arguments over the calls officials made during those games. Friends would sometimes join us, a few carried with them gifts of seasonal spirits. 

The day involved a lot of TV, starting first with coverage of the Tournament of Roses parade, followed by games. It might be 11 p.m. before the last man sitting in front of the TV called it a day and shut things down for the night - and for the season, because New Year's Day bowl games in those days also signaled the end of college football for several months.

That's all gone now. Done in by a variety of factors, but mostly because the powers behind college football adopted a playoff system that took some of my favorite bowls and moved them to New Year's Eve and extended the college game schedule to well beyond January 1. 

The Rose Bowl, the Cotton Bowl, the Orange Bowl, the Sugar Bowl, the Gator Bowl, and the Peach Bowl were my New Year's Day favorites. Some are still played today, but not on New Year's Day, and so the day is not the same for me. 

During the years when my daughter attended high school and college, we would watch the bowl games and enjoy what we titled the "Festival of Salty Snacks." A table in our TV room was set with bowls of our favorite snack foods and crackers. I'd add chicken wings, pizzas, and other items throughout the day and night. We'd even eat a few vegetables to relieve some of the guilt we felt about eating so poorly for hours. 

We'd watch our favorite teams from the Big Ten Conference, the Big 12, the SEC, and discuss everything from individual plays to our favorite brand of snacks. 

My daughter graduated from college years ago, resides in a big city, and is rarely able to join us for New Year's Day. Some of the relatives and friends who once shared in our annual ritual have passed away, and others have moved to distant parts.

My wife and I still enjoy the small plates, but now we celebrate the Festival of Foods - vegetables and sliced fruit replaced corn chips and pretzels, and baked chicken replaced the chicken wings featured in years gone by. Change is part of life, and we adapt to the changes we encounter.

Still, I miss the tradition of viewing a New Year's Day college football marathon and remember it with warm fondness.

-- Thank you for reading. Comments and feedback are always welcome. Share a comment here, or send an email to kbotterman@gmail.com.