Christmas

Well, we did not light our candle chandelier in the dining room for Christmas dinner. And therein hangs a tale.

The eight-candle chandelier had been a feature in our Connecticut dining room for several years. Since the chandelier was such a favorite, we stipulated when we listed the house that it would not remain with the house. When the packers and movers arrived, it was clear that if the chandelier were to come down, I would be the one to do it, so I hauled out the ladder and enlisted the help of one of the packers to catch the fixture as I released it from the high beams in the dining room. There was no problem in the transport, and the chandelier arrived safely. We removed the electric chandelier in our new house (placing it in the entry hall) and mounted the chandelier--soon decorated with a Christmas garland--all ready for the big day.

And then it was Christmas--with a houseful of 20 awaiting Christmas dinner, and the temperature steadily rose outside (and inside). We opened up windows, turned on ceiling fans, and still it was warmer and warmer. There was no way we could add to the heat of the house with all those candles! Finally, in desperation (though I know the Connecticut contingent will be incredulous) we turned on the air conditioner.

I did manage to capture a picture by candlelight on a cooler day!

The San Antonio Riverwalk

One of the most famous attractions in San Antonio is the walk along the San Antonio River, which winds its way through downtown San Antonio. With family from out of town and with this being our first Christmas in Texas, we were anxious to spend an evening along this colorful river, lined with restaurants, shops, and hotels. On the weekends there are thousands of luminaria along the river banks, but the schedule did not allow us to come to San Antonio on the weekend, so we paid our visit on Tuesday, 23 December. It was seasonably chilly--coats, hats, scarves, gloves all felt appropriate. The picture gives an impression of how colorful the river is with Christmas lights and milling crowds of happy families.

Afterwards we went to the Mi Tierra Restaurant in the Mercado. This is a huge establishment (which never closes) with many dining rooms, a very large display case full of Mexican pastries (postres) and decorations galore--all year long. The entrance to the restaurant has a shrine that combines the popular Mexican holy day Dias de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) with a commemoration of Mexican culture. The picture does not do it justice but does show something of the effect.

The New York Times

All the News that Fits, We Print

Today we got the New York Times delivered--hallelujah! And therein hangs a story.

When we went through all the steps in separating ourselves from Connecticut, I called the Times and canceled our Sunday subscription. (In spite of the relative closeness to New York City, we were unable to get daily delivery in Canton. Sunday only was all that was available).

The subscription lady asked why we were canceling and I said we were moving, so she asked if we would like to see if we could get the paper in our new home. I said, “you mean mailed the next day?” (I was imagining the pony express or something.) She came back and said indeed they had Sunday delivery in New Braunfels. I was incredulous but cautiously optimistic.

Well, after the third Sunday with no New York Times, I called to make sure that we were not being charged for the non-delivery of the paper. My complaint was so meek and mild that the circulation lady said that she would throw in three months of daily service for free. Daily delivery? Of the New York Times? In central Texas? In the spirit of “what the heck?” I agreed. The paper was to start on Thursday. Sure enough, Thursday came, and there was no paper. I was more convinced than ever that it was all a shell game. And then, today, Friday, as I took out Sammy for his morning constitutional, there was a plastic bag at the end of the driveway. Could it be…no, no way. There is no way I am really going to get a daily Times here in central Texas. And then I opened the bag. Hallelujah, indeed!

My children say that I just like the Times because of its liberal editorial bias, which is only half right. I like the New York Times for its coverage of news. Today’s edition contains stories about the first proposed capital punishment in New Hampshire in over half a century, a list of all the big donors to the Clinton Foundation, and a story about the first ever human rights declaration to decriminalize homosexuality debated at the United Nations. Sixty six countries supported the declaration. Sadly, the United States was not one of them, joining with Russia, China, and the Organization of the Islamic Conference in opposition. That’s the kind of story I think will probably not appear in our local paper. Don’t get me wrong—I am a big supporter of local papers, and I am sure we will soon get around to subscribing to the New Braunfels Herald Zeitung. I don’t think, however, it will ever become a major source for us for news.

What's Different in Texas

Things That are Different

Wine in the grocery stores.

Gas pumps that still let you click on the gas flow automatically so that you are free to wash your window while the tank fills.

On the other hand, gas pumps that require you to enter your zip code at the pump if you plan to pay at the pump (and the pumps do not like out-of-town zip codes).

70 MPH speed limit on the interstates.

A mailbox (letter drop) that can be accessed from the car without getting out (haven’t seen one of those since 9/11).

Plastic straws in fast food restaurants that are not individually wrapped.

Freshly-made tamales for sale everywhere.

Soul food is not pizza but barbecue.

Weather that changes dramatically from one day to the next.

Undoubtedly, more to come....

Saint Lucia's Day

We have celebrated St. Lucia’s Day (13 December) for as long as I can remember as a kind of reminder of the Swedish heritage on my side of the family. I have never really understood how the commemoration of this Italian saint (Santa Lucia) ever migrated to Sweden, a Protestant land that does not have the calendar of saints of the countries of the south, but nevertheless St. Lucy’s Day is an important part of the pre-Christmas festivities in Sweden and has been in our family for many years.

Since the feast day comes on a date close to the shortest day of the year, it is inevitably associated with light, and involves the oldest daughter of the family bringing a plate of warm buns to her family members while wearing a wreath with candles in her hair. These buns, called Lussakattor, are one of our favorite taste sensations of Christmas. If you look up Lussakattor, you will inevitably find them characterized as flavored with saffron. The recipe N has used for years, however, features cardamom. As we have lived in various places—Kansas City, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Connecticut—she has shared these delicious treats with many friends who first learned about this delightful celebration from us. We hope that there are families across the country who remember St. Lucia (and the delicious taste of her buns) from hearing about the feast day from us.

There have been many years that there were no “eldest daughter” to do the honors on the morning of 13 December, but this year we had an eldest granddaughter, G (age 7). E and K’s three oldest children (G, C, and S) came to our house for their first ever sleepover. N kept them busy! They made ornaments for their parents, made chocolate-covered pretzels, and made bread to take home (and, of course, played with all of the special toys kept at our house while managing to watch some Christmas specials on TV). And, G served as St. Lucia early on Saturday morning.

Texas, Part 1

Returning to Texas brings a flood of memories—often memories of things I have not thought of for a long time. What kinds of things? Well, the weather, for instance. Tuesday was warm—really warm. Like 85 degrees warm (and I am wondering why did I bring anything made out of wool). That evening N and I drove to San Antonio for a production of “Oklahoma!” by the high school troupe at the San Pedro Playhouse. A has been associated with the San Pedro playhouse for years as musical director on a number of productions. We had always wanted to see one of his productions and we finally got the opportunity. The presentation was polished and delightful, with a number of the young thespians belting out those Rogers and Hammerstein numbers like pros. It took us back to the productions at Shawnee Mission East when our kids were in high school. When we came out of the theatre, it was snowing! We had sleet and snow all the way back to New Braunfels. We had big temperature changes at times in Connecticut, but I had forgotten how the temperature could drop 50 degrees in a matter of hours.

And then there is the Texas wildlife. N went down to the cluster of mailboxes that serve our rural area and found a sign posted by a helpful neighbor warning that rattlesnakes had been spotted in the community pavilion and restrooms! Needless to say, that was a good reminder that we were no longer in New England.

Finally, the Texas boast about everything being big in Texas. We went out for a quick bite with A at one of his favorite diners in San Antonio that has won the community award for the best chicken fried steak three years running. There was no way that I was going to pass up an award-winning chicken fried steak. Imagine my surprise when I saw what came out of the kitchen! Not having a tape measure with me, I did a quick mental calculation and determined that the steak (hanging over the sides of the plate) was approximately 12” by 8” ! That is a lot of chicken fried steak. In fact, it was dinner two nights in a row. A said that the diner was also famous for its cinnamon rolls, so we ordered one to go. See for yourself what a Texas-sized cinnamon roll looks like.

Travel with the Animals

We knew that Sammy the dog would enjoy the trip to Texas. After all, his favorite activity (after eating and barking at native wildlife) is riding in the car. After four days on the road, I never wanted to see a car again. Sammy was ready for another four days at least. Just let him stick his head out of the window periodically, and he can travel forever.

We had our doubts about Molly the cat. She had never been in the car. In fact, since the day she first came to our house she had never left it (except for one day when she slipped out the slightly open sliding glass door onto the deck) and even then she looked confused wondering what she was to do next. Our last car trip—nine years ago—was with a different cat, Katie. In spite of a dose of tranquilizers, she moaned and meowed all the way from Minnesota to Connecticut. We were not looking forward to having Molly on the road for four days. What happened? She was a model traveler, nestled down in her little travel case during the day and plopped out on the motel beds at night.

Sammy is happy in his new home. As you can see, Molly is, too.

Wassail

Wassail! wassail! all over the town,
Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown;
Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree;
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee.

The Christmas season in New Braunfels begins with the Wassailfest, and since our realtor gave us little wassail mugs as a housewarming present, we figured we had better attend. And were we ever glad that we did! New Braunfels is laid out much like a New England town with a green space in the center of town encircled by what would be called in the east a “rotary.” Or maybe it is laid out like a German village. At any rate, for the Wassailfest the town takes the song quite literally: there is wassail all over the town. All the shops are open, people are in a festive mood, and everywhere there is free wassail to drink in our little mugs. The wassail “all over town” is really a competition; festgoers vote at the end of the evening for the best wassail of the night.

And what is wassail, anyway? Judging by what we tasted, it can be just about anything. The term comes from Anglo Saxon wæs hæil, which meant “be healthy!” and does not give any clue as to what should be the ingredients for this mulled wine or cider or flavored beer concoction. The strange word “wassail” lives on in Britain in another iteration today. There are pubs all over the UK called “The Pig and Whistle.” Did you ever wonder why? Well the Old Norse word for barley was bygg. At the end of the barley harvest in earlier days, people celebrated with a feast known as a bygg wassail. And from that old early medieval celebration we get the modern-day “Pig and Whistle” pubs.

I don’t know if the locals know the story of wassail, but they sure know how to start off the time of preparation for Christmas with a bang.

Why We Came to Texas

Why We Came to Texas
(or how our lives are changing)

The furniture, books, clothes, books, gardening implements and books came on Friday after Thanksgiving. With five men unloading the truck (and in a hurry to leave) most everything got dumped into the garage. Chaos does not begin to describe the scene. On Saturday morning, however, the priority was Christmas trees, not unpacking. A showed up bright and early with M, K, and S in tow, along with M and V, K’s parents. They all headed off to Santa land to cut down trees; I stayed behind for Larry the Cable Guy (thus, no pictures of our first big family outing in Texas.) A, however, has 67 shots on his digital camera which he would be delighted to share with anyone who is interested.

Sunday was the family dinner E had been waiting for—Sunday dinner at the folks’ house. There were still a lot of boxes around, but N fixed up a pot roast dinner with a home-made apple pie that brought tears to E’s eyes. We got to do some serious unpacking on Monday and Tuesday before we were called into major grandparenting—presence at G’s school for the Feast of St. Andrew. K already had a doctor’s appointment for the baby and E coud not get off from work. Mimi and Bumpa to the rescue! And what a delight for us. This school knows how to do a patronal feast, from the bagpipers who piped in the liturgical procession to the bishop suffragan who celebrated the eucharist. The event was a wonderful reminder of St. Andrew’s celebrations back in Kansas City, but made even better by the participation of all the musicians in the school, with selections from African American spirituals to songs of praise to C.P.E. Bach (!) and even a selection from Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.” Can you say eclectic?

After the service we joined up with G and E for lunch on the school grounds. What a celebration indeed, as we were serenaded during lunch by the school jazz ensemble alternating with the school drum band and the school rock combo. Did I mention eclectic? Yes, this is why we made the southwest migration—to be a part of fun activities like tree cutting (an old family tradition) and school activities. Unpacking can wait a while!

The Eagles Have Landed

After 1981 miles, 13 states, and four days.

A few bumps along the way, to be sure, but we are here.

The one-day load turned into a 2 ½ day load. It’s not just because we have a lot of stuff (we know we have a lot of stuff) but because our driver Eddy is a careful and methodical packer (thanks, Eddy!) and because of the long walk up the driveway at 29 Morgan Road (there was no way a moving van could make it into and out of that driveway; the truck had to be loaded from the street.) The extended load meant that we did not get away until 11:00 am on Friday morning—and then we had 500 plus miles to go—through New York, Baltimore, and Washington.

The drive would have been bearable except for the whiteout snowstorm in Maryland. Hello, winter! And AAA said they were routing us along the southern route to avoid bad weather. We heard later from Eddy that he hit the same snowstorm in Pennsylvania. I have driven the Pennsylvania turnpike; I know the Pennsylvania turnpike; I am very glad we were not maneuvering the Pennsylvania turnpike at night in the snow, with our cars laden with animals, plants, and all the things that did not fit onto the van.

We stayed at a motel south of Richmond the first night. It was so warm and comfortable that it felt like a palace. All four of us were so glad to be in a cozy room and off that highway. We would gladly have slept until noon—except that we had another 500 miles to drive to arrive in New Braunfels in time for our closing first thing Tuesday morning.

So we wended our way south, bundled against the chill early Saturday morning. And why was it so chilly for us, you say? Well it seems that an energetic packer grabbed up all of our winter coats while the loading was going on in Canton. N had a windbreaker; I had a down vest—no more. That second night was in a roadside motel outside of Atlanta. It was as bleak as the previous night’s lodging had been comforting. We had a deranged single man next door who talked loudly on the telephone, listened to hip hop music on TV, and talked to himself. N was astounded to learn that I had ventured outside to ask his cooperation to keep the noise down (to no avail). We couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

The third night was just outside of Baton Rouge in a little town called Hammond, Louisiana in an inn on the national register of historic places, the Michabelle. We had a little cottage outside of the 1913 Greek revival mansion that serves as the inn in a suite called Scheherezade. I am certain that this serves as a honeymoon suite for newly-married couples (Michabelle is a popular place for weddings). We made good use of the huge jaccuzzi tub—just the thing to wash away the aches of 1500 miles on the road. I would describe the décor of our suite as New Orleans bordello. Get the picture? The next morning we had a luxurious breakfast in a picturesque dining room with omelets to die for. Some day I hope t be able to create an omelet as soft and delicious as the ones served to us that morning.

Day four gave us hope—after all, only one more day of relentless highway driving. We made contact on the road with Eddy, who, though he had left after us, was already in Dallas (he took another route). Eddy was at least five hours ahead of us! We made it to New Braunfels by dinner, greatly relieved and greatly grateful. And then we heard again from Eddy that he had had mechanical troubles and was not expecting to greet us at the house the next morning just after our closing as he had planned. Eddy’s intention was to make it home (Kingman, Arizona) in time for Thanksgiving. I will leave it to you to plot the route Eddy was planning to cover in a day of driving on Wednesday.

In most respects, we were relieved. We realized we would have a chance to get familiar with our new home and decide where furniture should be placed before the onslaught of our worldly possessions. That gave N time to meet up with A and purchase a new sofa at a place S and K had recommended. And it gave me a chance to return to the New Braunfels library (free wi fi access!) to catch up on my classes. Then we heard from Eddy that the mechanical damage to the truck was more extensive than he had imagined. The truck would not be ready until 1:00 pm on Wednesday, and he knew he would find no one willing to unload on Thanksgiving Day. And that puts off our delivery date to Friday.

In the meantime, S and K and A had us to dinner and sent us home with an inflatable bed so we could camp out in our new home. And that brings us up to date. Oh, except that the new sofa was delivered today (Wednesday) which means that we now have someplace to sit besides on the floor.

The house is even better than we had remembered it. And this morning N ventured out on a walk-run in the neighborhood and found the area to be even nicer than we had realized.
Tomorrow (Thabksgiving) we will feast with A and the group of friends with whom he always spends Thanksgiving. Lord willing, we will receive our worldly goods on Friday and get wired into cable and the internet on Saturday. Then it will begin to feel like home.
Do I even need to say that our hearts are full of thanksgiving?

Saturday 6 December

N and I had a full day of grandparenting--just what we had imagined when we made the decision to move to NB. The big event was G's violin recital. We drove to Austin, met up with E and his family and then headed over to the big event, housed in a music center bearing the name "Armstrong" (presumably created by the philanthropy of Lance Armstrong). E tells me that there are many facilities all over Austin that bear either the name of Armstrong or Michael Dell (the computer manufacturer).

We heard an hour of violin music primarily performed by youngsters between the ages of 3 and 10. A few sour notes, to be sure, but lots of beaming parents, grandparents, and assorted other family members. G performed splendidly! She told us her knees were shaking, but we couldn't tell it. Afterwards we celebrated at Starbucks.

In the evening E and K attended the firm's Christmas party and N and I did the full-time grandparent thing. Managing the children (who were excellent) was nothing compared to managing the three dogs--Sallie, Izzy, and Sammy! Best of all, I got to take care of the baby while N played with the other children. It's been a long time since I was able to spend so much time with a nine-week old baby. What a precious doll she really is.

After the children were all asleep, N and I reminisced about how my mother used to come and care for our children (often for a week at a time) when we were the busy, active parents and we felt so good to be able to do the same for E and K.