December 5th

Fort Hood, Texas was our first active duty station after Layden was commissioned as an Army Chaplain in 1995. We were there for a total of 4 years. One year Layden decided it would be great fun to set up our video camcorder to record the kids opening presents Christmas morning. He put it on a tripod facing the tree. Of course we were all in pajamas – new because we always get new pajamas Christmas Eve. The boys had no problem with the whole thing. For us girls it was a different matter. We stayed well behind the camera as much as possible. When it was our turn to get a present we would dart in and back as quick as we could. The video was a combination of gleeful boys and blurry flannel nightgowns. Bluebonnets, the Texas state flower, don’t bloom in winter, but we are happy to have them bloom with good memories on our tree every Christmas.

Historical note – No cell phones back then that could take pictures, let alone videos. Mobile phones were slightly smaller than a regular phone handset and could make and receive calls. Just that – nothing else. Video capability on cell phones wasn’t commercially available until about 2002, and was not a standard feature of phones.

December 4th

A miniature gumball machine! The stand is actually made of metal and is heavy for its size. The dome is acrylic and filled with glass seed beads as the gumballs – very clever. It came from a Secret Santa gift exchange, so the giver remains a mystery. That is part of the fun of this whimsical ornament. Every year when we hang it on the tree we speculate who the giver might have been. We also remember being part of a good group of friends, which is an important component of military life. We were almost always stationed far away from home, missing parents, children, brothers and sisters. Friends became our substitute family.

December 3rd

Though dated 1980, this rocking horse wasn’t completed until 1981. It hung on the tree for Stephen’s first Christmas. I doubt he remembers the event because he was not quite 3 months old, but he does know that is his horse. He is patiently waiting for it to join the rest of his ornaments. When he got married, one of his gifts their first Christmas was all the Christmas ornaments that had been given to him over the years. Except this one – I am hanging on to it for a while longer because it reminds me of my first Christmas as a mother and how wondrous it was to have a baby of my own. It also reminds me of Mary and her first time as a mother which makes the Christmas story feel more personal.

The hat I made for myself. It had a pair of matching mittens which belonged to Stephen’ s Dad. These ornaments came as small embroidery kits. They were on sale because they were last year’s designs. I find it a bit odd that Christmas ornaments and decor have “trends” such as rustic plaid one year, bright red and green the next, metallics another, but they do. In this case, it worked in my favor. I was able to save money and indulge in one of my favorite hobbies – needlework. And, despite being designs from 1979, I don’t think they have lost one bit of charm or Christmas cheer.

December 2nd

I don’t remember when I got this small (less than 2 inches beak to tail) hand-painted wooden bird, but I know I have had it since I was a little girl. We lived in an adobe house in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It had a big picture window in the living room and we usually put the tree in front of it. I remember my father, who was about 6’4″, would hang the bird at the tip of a high branch so I could imagine it was really flying through the wintry blue sky. Years later, my Mom sent it to me my first Christmas on my own. It was lovely to have a reminder of family and childhood. Over time, it has come to represent the kindness of my father and his recognition of the importance of imagination, and the wisdom of my mother knowing the comfort of the familiar in the midst of new beginnings.

Here We Go – Again

Hi there. I have been reviewing some of my writing and came across a personal essay that was picked up by The War Horse, a great site that publishes stories, essay, and journalism related to the true costs of war and military service. I wrote this piece in 2020, before the pandemic, political divides, and escalating conflicts. There are some updates.

I chose to write from the standpoint of Mom/Wife, but I do acknowledge that there are many – more than you might think – Dad/Husbands, and other combinations of spouses and miliary service. My husband did indeed retire after 36 years of military service. My son joined the Naval Reserve. He is currently deployed – again. We are all glad that, for the moment at least, our son/husband/father is serving in a support role away from conflict zones. I am sharing this because, even though I have been through this twice before, much of the sentiment I wrote about still applies.

https://thewarhorse.org/when-its-hard-to-be-mom/

If you would like to read more pieces like this, I invite you to check out The War Horse website: https://thewarhorse.org/

First Bandelier Poem is Out in the World!

Many thanks to Arvilla Fee for accepting 3 of my poems and 1 photograph in the first issue of Soul Poetry, Prose and Art Magazine. My poems are on pp 23-25. Here is the link: https://soulpoetry7.com/soul-poetry-prose-arts-magazine-issue-1-volume-1-upon-these-wings/

The poem on page 24, Abert’s Squirrel, is the first published poem directly from my time in Bandelier National Monument as an Artist in Residence. Abert’s Squirrel is a delightful species, curious, talkative, very cute, smart, but not always wise. I spent quite a bit of time observing them in Frijoles Canyon. It is not surprising that they show up in several poems. In this case, one is juxtaposed against the experience of being out in the open and surprised by a thunderstorm.

Abert’s Squirrel

We are halfway to the high mesa overlook
to watch canyon streams flow into desert river,
to wait for the moon to rise, see it
plate the world in a wealth of silver,
when suddenly the northward sky takes on a shroud
of dark clouds, lightning forking the horizon.

We know it is rash to continue on exposed, yet
we stand, listening for thunder, undecided,
like the tassel-eared Abert’s squirrel
stretched full length on sun-warm adobe,
loath to leave his spot on the roof
though winged shadows flicker over him.

For what pleasures
will we risk the hawk?

Again, many thanks to Arvilla for bringing these words to her lovely virtual page, to Sally King, National Park Service for the photo, and to the Abert’s Squirrel.