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2024
Month: December 2024
China Town 2002
Family
Our family probably doesn’t get together as much as it should.
Illness
“Padre, when you get a chance, can you fill my two water bottles,” the Girl asked standing at the top of the stairs after checking on her bath water.
“Of course,” I said, finishing up a couple of dishes. As I headed up the stairs, I suppressed a giggle about it. Instead of going to L’s room, I headed straight to ours. K was reading in bed.
“I hope she realizes this is a temporary thing,” I said to my wife. Laughing, I continued, “‘Padre, can you make me some tea?’ ‘Padre, can you get me a nose hose ready?’ ‘Padre, can you get me some gauze?’ ‘Padre, can you fill my two water bottles?'” K just smiled.
In truth, helping her this week has been a pleasure. Helping your daughter recover from a minor surgery is so much less stressful than sitting with her in an emergency room. With the latter, there’s no clear outcome. Too many unknowns. Helping her through this post-operative trial, though, has been simply helping her through very clearly and well-defined steps. We know what happens next. It’s just a matter of dealing with the present discomfort, which will most definitely pass.
That being said, I thought L might try to go it alone. To strike out and try to take care of herself as a show of a now-eighteen-year-old young woman. Heaven knows there’s a stubborn streak in our family that’s as wide as it is deep. “I can do it.” “I don’t need help.” That’s been L the last few years as she explores her growing independence. It’s admirable and frustrating.
I could see L doing it.
But instead, we see another form of independence: the understanding that adults can ask for help. The understanding that asking for help does not suggest dependence.
“We are a family that has three bowls of dried ice cream and a plate of crusty scrambled eggs in a room we’re not even supposed to have food in.” It’s a sentence
Saturday
Remainder
Boxing Day 2024
Everyone has returned home; K returns to work tomorrow — the 2024 holiday season is over. The timeless magical period of Wigilia and Christmas and all the time preparing for it disappears, and the worries that for a few days we put out of our minds come crowding back in.
Worry 1
I woke up this morning thinking of school. The students are great — the best group I’ve had in years. The amount of micro-managing and mindless paperwork has increase so much over the last two years that it has me dreading a return. I’m left in a stressful quandary:
- stay at the school where I have a reputation, where I am (by administration’s own admission) the most frequently-requested teacher and put up with the increasing fiddling in every single decision I make while taking a little bit of comfort in the fact that that reputation serves as a bit of a buffer as I push back, or
- move to a new school (preferably a high school — I think all middle schools in the county are under the same micro-management stress: it comes from the district) where I am an unknown with no capital and no reputation, where it might in fact be even worse.
It’s a difficult decision that I’ll have to make very soon, and it entails a conversation with my school’s administration that I don’t really anticipate gleefully.
Worry 2
L is still recovering from surgery. It will take a couple of weeks. It’s still stressful to us all, though. It’s “Worry 2” instead of “Worry 1” because we know it’s temporary. She’ll recover; she’ll be able to breath better; her sinuses won’t be giving her constant headaches. So it’s a short-term worry — hence, “Worry 2.” But it’s our daughter we’re worried about: even when it’s a seemingly unfounded worry, we can’t just shake it off.
Worry 3
We have a leak in our roof. It might be under warranty from the company that replaced our roof a few years ago; it might not be. We won’t know until the company comes out and looks at it. But we’ve been on the list for over a week now. It took them forever to start the work in the first place. I’m not confident we’ll see anyone here for a long time.
And it’s supposed to start raining tomorrow afternoon and rain through the weekend.
I’ve got it tarped, but not sufficiently for a heavy rain. The location of the leak and the shape of our roof make it difficult to tarp. And we have no idea how long this will last.
Do we just call another company and take the hit?
Do we call insurance (they suggested calling the company that replaced it in the first place — a company the insurance adjuster had recommended, for the wrote our current roof)?
Worry 4
We have elected as president a narcissist who’s a convicted felon who tried to retain power by overthrowing the democratic process, a man who is, in every possible sense of the idea, completely unfit for the office. And some very worrying people will likely have an influence on him. People like Curtis Yarvin:
Yarvin, who considers liberal democracy as a decadent enemy to be dismantled, is intellectually influential on vice president-elect JD Vance and close to several proposed Trump appointees. The aftermath of Trump’s election victory has seen actions and rhetoric from Trump and his lieutenants that closely resemble Yarvin’s public proposals for taking autocratic power in America. (The Guardian)
When Trump takes office in a few weeks, it could conceivably lead to the end of America as we know it. Sure, the Republicans said the same things about Biden, but those fears were based on baseless conspiracy theories and good-old-fashioned hate-mongering. The people surrounding Trump aren’t being conspiratorial about anything: they’re saying it all aloud. They’re not holding their cards close: they’ve laid them all out with the Project 2025 manifesto and rhetoric people like Yarvin are saying.
Given the post-election period and Trump’s preparation for a return to the White House, Yarvin’s program seems less fanciful then it did in 2021, when he laid it out for Anton.
In the recording of that podcast, Yarvin offers a condensed presentation of his program which he has laid out on Substack and in other venues.
Midway through their conversation, Anton says to Yarvin, “You’re essentially advocating for someone to – age-old move – gain power lawfully through an election, and then exercise it unlawfully”, adding: “What do you think the actual chances of that happening are?”
Yarvin responded: “It wouldn’t be unlawful,” adding: “You’d simply declare a state of emergency in your inaugural address.”
Yarvin continued: “You’d actually have a mandate to do this. Where would that mandate come from? It would come from basically running on it, saying, ‘Hey, this is what we’re going to do.’”
Throughout the 2024 campaign, Trump promised to carry out a wide array of anti-democratic or authoritarian moves, and effectively ran on these promises. Trump has suggested he might declare a state of emergency in response to America’s immigration crisis.
Trump also promised to pursue retribution on individually named antagonists like representative Nancy Pelosi and senator-elect Adam Schiff, and spoke more broadly about dispatching the US military to deal with “the enemy within”.
Later in the recording, Yarvin said that after a hypothetical authoritarian president was inaugurated in January, “you can’t continue to have a Harvard or a New York Times past since perhaps the start of April”. Later expanding on the idea with “the idea that you’re going to be a Caesar and take power and operate with someone else’s Department of Reality in operation is just manifestly absurd.”
“Machiavelli could tell you right away that that’s a stupid idea,” Yarvin added. (The Guardian)
This is, of course, a worry that leaves me thinking, “This is all out of my hands — I can do nothing about it,” and yet. And yet…
So when the holidays are over, it’s not just a return to “normal” life. It’s that with a few additional stressors (not even all mentioned here) thrown in. We’ll get through it all, but it doesn’t diminish the stress levels.
Christmas 2024
Wigilia 2024
Going into Wigilia sick is no fun. K was ill during the 2011 Wigilia, and I had to make the barszcz as a result. It was probably not as good as K’s.
Still worse than heading into Wigilia sick is going into it after an operation. The Girl’s last Wigilia here as a full-time resident of our house and it was a struggle for her — the whole day.
She stayed in her room for most of the day. “I’m saving my energy for tonight,” she explained.
Evening came and she put some nice clothes on, came down stairs, and had dinner with us. After soup, she took a break in the living room, but she came back for the fish.
When it came time for the gifts, she lay on the couch and smiled as E passed out all the gifts she’d bought for everyone.
That was a bit of a role change: she’s always been so thrilled to get the gifts (what kid isn’t?), but tonight, she was more enjoying watching everyone else open her gifts.
The Girl is growing up. In fact, how long can we continue calling her “the Girl”? Isn’t she legally an adult now? A woman?
But some things never change. Wigilia never changes. The same food every year. Perhaps a different fish — trout this year. Or did we have trout last year as well?
And the same faces around the table, with one exception — a new guest this year.
So if some things don’t always change, if some things just stay the same seemingly forever, I guess the Girl can remain the Girl in our eyes indefinitely.
And what of the Boy this year? He retained his role as the gift distributor, but his voice is a little deeper now when he hands someone a gift.
But some things with the Boy don’t change: he’s still the most grateful gift-receiver.
Everyone, happy with their gifts, discussed whether to go to Mass tonight or tomorrow. They all decided on tomorrow, so we watched National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. The girls’ pick. I hadn’t seen it since I watched it in the theater, I don’t think.
I checked the release date of the film: 1989. I was two years younger than the Girl is now. And like that, those thirty-five years disappeared.
The movie ended, and like that, yet another Wigilia was over. Everyone slowly went their own ways.
Another Wigilia.
Another little bit of perfection.
Wigilia Preparation 2024
Getting ready for Wigilia is a multi-day affair. We actually began a couple of weeks ago by preparing an absolute truckload of pierogi and uszki for the dinner as well as the zakwas for the barszcz This morning K put the dried mushrooms to soak just before she began the vegetable stock for the barszcz (carrots, parsnips, celery, a couple of turnips, some prunes and an apple) and the beets themselves were roasting in the oven. As I was grating the roasted beets, she was preparing the crust for the cygan.As I cleaned up the mess we’d made, K was chopping the massive amount of dried fruit (mainly prunes, dried apricots, and raisins) cygan requires. As K was melting the butter, chocolate, and sugar to mix in with the dried fruit, I looked for recipes for spanakopita. A bit of a mixed morning.
In the afternoon? I’m sure K finished the cygan, and she was going to make a rolada, one of the Girl’s favorite desserts, for L. That was the plan. I’ve no pictures of that process, though, because I was with the Girl in the hospital. We arrived at twelve as instructed. At 3:30, the surgeon still hadn’t met with us.
“Things are running behind,” the nurse said. “That happens.”
True enough. Medicine, though, is the only industry for which we have this kind of patience. Everywhere else, we would have long ago gotten up and left. “We’ll take our business elsewhere.” Not such an option for surgery.
Finally, a little before four, they wheel the Girl back for her minor procedure: a deviated septum which has contributed to never ending sinus problems for our poor girl. The day before Wigilia is hardly the best time for surgery, but we have to fit it in wherever we can between volleyball, winter/indoor track, work, school, and everything else that crowds the Girl’s calendar. After waiting over three hours in preop, the Girl gets wheeled to the OR, and I head to the waiting room for more waiting.
It seems somehow appropriate that the last Wigilia that L is living at home is so wonky. It gets us thinking about how it’s so different from every other Wigilia and so similar at the same time. We spent the day not preparing as a family, and we go into Wigilia not even knowing how L will feel a day after surgery — will she even want to sit at the table? (Not really a serious worry.) And yet Wigilia will be the same as it always is, as is my post about it: the timelessness of tradition in the midst of an ever-changing world for our family. Next Wigilia, L will be coming home from college, probably with a big list of foods she wants K to prepare and a big bag of laundry. It’s always been this way: all the same, never the same.
Smoking Day 2024
Exactly one year earlier, it was a smoking day as well.
Hometown Fire
Virginia Intermont College has long been something of a central element of Bristol. Sitting high on a hill, the 19th-century buildings were a focal point of the city.
Early this morning, it burned down. Completely.
The historic James Tecumseh Preston house burned down two days ago.
There is one main theory about who’s responsible…
Left Behind III: Cause of Disappearance
One of the most interesting elements of the first Left Behind book is its necessity to create some kind of imagined explanation that the non-Christians would come up with to explain the disappearance of so many people. This is what the authors come up with:
The world has been stockpiling nuclear weapons for innumerable years. Since the United States dropped atomic bombs on Japan in 1945 and the Soviet Union first detonated its own devices September 23, 1949, the world has been at risk of nuclear holocaust. Dr. Rosenzweig and his team of renowned scholars is close to the discovery of an atmospheric phenomenon that may have caused the vanishing of so many people instantaneously.”
“Dr. Rosenzweig believes that some confluence of electromagnetism in the atmosphere, combined with as yet unknown or unexplained atomic ionization from the nuclear power and weaponry throughout the world, could have been ignited or triggered-perhaps by a natural cause like lightning, or even by an intelligent lifeform that discovered this possibility before we did—and caused this instant action throughout the world.”
“Sort of like someone striking a match in a room full of gasoline vapors?” a journalist suggested.
This Dr. Rosenzweig character is, in fact, a botanist, and his theory becomes the prevailing explanation among non-believers. In the Left Behind authors’ world, there are no skeptics saying, “Now, wait a minute. We stopped testing nuclear weapons decades ago. Even if your idea of ‘some confluence of electromagnetism in the atmosphere, combined with as yet unknown or unexplained atomic ionization from the nuclear power and weaponry throughout the world’ itself weren’t completely bonkers, there simply wouldn’t be any remnants decades later. The whole idea is ludicrous.”
This lack of skeptical characters is hardly surprising. The Evangelical authors don’t even understand current skepticism toward their faith. Any time any idea comes close to their religious beliefs, skepticism disappears.
Opłatek 2024
9 Years Ago
Probably my favorite video with the Boy…
Tenderfoot
Eighteen Years Old
Eighteen years ago, the Girl was just that — a newborn treasure, a gift we were to cherish, a future wrapped in a little bundle. That day, she couldn’t open her eyes yet; today, she couldn’t drive to school because her car was in the shop. How things have changed.
That day, my mother and father became Nana and Papa. Their first grandchild had just entered our world, and they were thrilled, ready to laugh at the slightest thing, unwilling to let L out of their sight. Now Nana and Papa are no more, unable to see the strong, intelligent, and beautiful woman the Girl has become.
That day, her future was unclear but promising. Today, there is more clarity, there is more promise, but still more mystery.
Jasełka 2024
Every year for as long as I can remember there being an active Polish community in a local parish, the Poles have gathered for a Christmas potluck. Everyone shares the opłatek tradition, sings carols, and simply spends time together. Before all this, though, is the jasełka performance.
We’ve been doing it for so long that the kids who participated in it when we first began fifteen years ago are now done with college. Every year, though, a group of kids would put on the Christmas play. Every new a few faces disappeared and a couple of new faces made appearances.
It was truly a labor of love, cliche though that might be. Parents brought their kids for rehearsals, helped the kids learn their lines, created costumes and a set. Someone would have to find a script online. Someone would have to arrange for space for rehearsal. It took weeks to get everything together.
One year L was Mary. Another year the Boy was the baby Jesus. And once, in a pinch, L was Mary. That might have been the year E was Jesus. Or maybe not. Fifteen years of performances have all run together into a blur.
This year was the first year there was no jasełka. At all. But there were carols. There was a meal. There were opłateki. And there was, as always, a special moment for everyone to thank Father Theo, the parish’s head priest. He’s a gentle man from Columbia who took over celebrating the Polish Mass when no Polish priests could. He’s gradually added to the portion of the ceremony more and more Polish, and now, he celebrates almost the entire Mass in Polish.
“I love Polish!” he said this evening. “All that sh sh ch sh sh sh!”
The whole afternoon/early evening is a microcosm of all my little obsessions: the passage of time, the loveliness of tradition, the importance of family, the importance of culture, the love of good food.
Things change; time passes; people grow up; people grow old; it all stays the same; it all passes in the blink of an eye.
Everything I write about here almost incessantly.
Some Previous Years
18th
Tonight, I believe, was a last of sorts. L had her eighteenth birthday party, and from what I can see, it might be the last birthday party we throw for her. Well, not the last: we’ll throw her parties for as long as we can, but the last time we do it while she’s still living at home.
This was a party the Girl herself planned in large part. She picked the restaurant. She decided which items would be on the menu. She made the guest list and reservations. And for the most part, we were non-participants: the kids stayed in a private room and we took the Boy to the main dining room of the restaurant and went back only when it was time to have the cake.
So different from the parties of the past. In a sense, then, the progression of our parties was a metric for the progression of the Girl. Her first birthday party was completely on us (naturally); her eighteenth, (almost) completely on her. It’s another of those “letting go” moments.
But I can’t say I mind letting this go: it’s nice to see her pick up responsibilities we’ve always taken care of. It’s another sign she’s maturing.
Another sign of maturing: of the guests she invited (and those who came), we knew only a couple. It wasn’t a question of us simply not making the guest list as we used to; we didn’t even know the guests in some cases. Sure, we might have heard the kid’s name, but we didn’t necessarily know who was who. And that’s as it should be as the Girl moves into adulthood.
“The Girl.” I’ve called her that for so long that I can’t think of a time I didn’t call her that. Legally speaking, come Monday, she’ll no longer be the Girl but the Woman. Legally speaking.
Emotionally speaking, she will always be the Girl.
Christmas Market
