Happy Anniversary

"I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person 

you want to annoy for the rest of your life."

--Rita Rudner

Well, it's that time of year again.

Wee Three:  How long have gramma and grampa been married?

Terrible Two:  About five million years.

Sometimes I'm sure it feels that way for them.  But for the rest of us, they are the constant in our family's universe.

Thanks, you two.  We love you.

Keep up the good work.

December 17

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

performed by Rowlf the Dog, with John Denver

December 16

I'm a Little Christmas Cracker

performed by Diana Decker

A few years ago, I discovered the most amazing series from the BBC, entitled "Victorian Farm Christmas".  It is a wonderfully entertaining resource, which teaches the history of many of the Christmas traditions that we observe to this day, including the making of a wide variety of decorations, different recipes, and of course, the good old Christmas cracker!

Here is a snippet on how to make your own Christmas crackers, if it's still early enough in the month that you're feeling energized and enthusiastic.

(Those of us who are disorganized and frazzled will simply watch, and then nip out to the stores and buy some, before they're all sold out.)

Today.

Help yourself!

December 15

"Doings of Kriss Kringle" c 1897

Kris Kringle

performed by "The Barnsley Nightengale"

 Kate Rusby

In spite of this little tune being sung by the lovely Kate Rusby, of Yorkshire, England, "Kris Kringle" is a name derived from the German, Christkindl, which means "Christ Child", and has been the name used for the Christmas giver of gifts in many parts of Europe.  Interestingly, the "Christkind" was promulgated by Martin Luther, in an effort to deflect attention from St. Nicholas during the Protestant Reformation.   Rather than bringing gifts on December 6, the Feast of St Nicholas, the little angel would visit the houses of children on Christmas Eve.  The Christkindl was never seen, and the sound of a tiny bell would signal that he had visited, and left gifts under the Christmas tree.

Although the tradition of the Christkindl is still popular in some parts of the world, it continues to face serious competition with Santa Claus.  I would imagine that this is because Santa Claus has a much better publicity department, and gets more press.

The name Christkindl began to change over time, especially after it was introduced to America by the Pennsylvania Dutch community in the early 1800s.  Christkindl eventually became what many people now know as "Kris Kringle":  another name for Santa Claus.  The name "Kris Kringle" became wildly popular with the release of the film "Miracle on 34th Street".  

Nowadays, "Kris Kringle" is widely known as a type of holiday party activity in the United States, and is the equivalent to what we know of in Canada as a "Secret Santa" type of event.

If you have the misfortune to be invited to such an event this year, as I have, allow me to pass along this tidbit of wisdom:

An inexpensive itunes gift card makes a far superior choice for exchange, rather than a wonky coffee mug that lists dangerously to the right, emblazoned "Here comes SLANTA Claus!"

Ugh.

December 14

"Sparkle and Shine"

from the soundtrack of "Nativity!"

Well, here's a sassy little Star of Bethlehem, from one of my favourite Christmas films of all time!

If you haven't yet seen this gem, starring the magnificent Martin Freeman, then I insist you purchase yourself a copy.  It's completely hilarious from beginning to end, is packed with improvised dialogue, and features a brilliantly original version of the "traditional" Christmas story.

No airy-fairy Disney nonsense here...  You'll go between being on the edge of your seat, and rolling on the floor laughing as you watch primary teacher Mr. Paul Maddins and his "Educational" Assistant Mr. Poppy pull off the craziest Nativity Pageant EVER.

December 13

"Vierge au Lys" by Eugène Delaplanche (1878)

Hymne à la Vierge 

Music composed by Pierre Villette (1926-98),

words by Roland Bouhéret (1930-95),

and performed by The Vasari Singers 

O toute belle, Vierge Marie, 

Votre âme trouve en Dieu 

Le parfait amour. Il vous revêt du manteau de la Grâce

Comme une fiancée 

Parée de ses joyaux. 

Alléluia, Alléluia, 

Je vais chanter ta louange, Seigneur, 

Car tu as pris soin de moi, 

Car tu mʼas envelopée du voile de lʼinnocence. 

Vous êtes née avant les collines, 

O sagesse de Dieu Porte du Salut. 

Hereux ce lui qui marche dans vos traces, 

Qui apprête son coeur 

A la voix de vos conseils. 

Alléluia, Alléluia, 

Je vais chanter ta louange, Seigneur, 

Car tu mʼas faite, avant le jour, 

Car tu mʼas fait précéder le jaillissement des sources.

Avant les astres 

Vous étiez présente Mère du Créateur 

Au profound du ciel 

Quand Dieu fixait les limites du monde 

Vous partagiez con coeur 

Etant à lʼoeuvre avec lui. 

O toute belle Vierge Marie.

Marie Guyart

While in Quebec City, my eldest daughter and I made another pilgrimage.  We visited The Musée des Ursulines, which is built on the site of the very first school ever established in what was then known as "New  France".  

The Ursuline Order of Roman Catholic nuns was founded in Italy in 1535, and was one known as La Compagnie de Saint-Ursule.  In 1639, at the request of the Jesuit priests, three Ursulines arrived in Québec City.  One of those women was the 40-year-old widowed Marie de l’Incarnation, born Marie Guyart.  

Marie's husband had been a silk merchant, and died when his wife was just nineteen years old, leaving her to care for her infant son, Claude.  Marie was also left with a struggling business to run-- which she did until it became successful enough for her to sell, thus enabling her to return to her family home.  There, she supported herself and her child with the beautiful embroidery that would later become so important in her religious and teaching career.

Guyart experienced a mystical vision on March 24, 1620, which set in motion a series of events that would completely transform her life.  In 1621, she decided to enter the Ursuline monastery in Tours.  This cannot have been an easy decision, as it meant leaving her young son to be raised by another family.  Claude was so completely distraught by being abandoned by his mother, he attempted to storm the monastery with a band of schoolboys.  It was not until many years later, when he was ordained as a Benedictine Monk, that he re-established contact with his mother, and the two were able to correspond about their spiritual and emotional trials

Marie Guyart professed her vows in 1633, and was given the name Marie de l’Incarnation by the Ursuline Order.  After reading The Jesuit Relations in 1634, she experienced another spiritual vision; this one instructing her to go and establish the Catholic Faith in the New World. On 19 February 1639 she was introduced to Marie-Madeline de Chauvigny de la Peltrie. She was a widow who was also drawn to serve in the new colony, and was financially able to support such an endeavor. Marie, along with another Ursuline, Sister Marie-de-Saint-Joseph, aged 22, received the necessary permissions to undertake this mission. Despite the strong opposition of her family, de la Peltrie signed over the bulk of her estate to the Ursuline Order for the maintenance of the mission in New France. They then traveled to Dieppe, the port of departure for New France, where a member of the local Ursuline community, Sister Cécile de Sainte-Croix, volunteered to join them.


When these women arrived in The New World in August, 1639, Quebec was hardly a town:  only six houses stood at the foot of the mountain, on the spot that had been chosen by Samuel de Champlain thirty-one years earlier.  They established their convent, and moved into a stone building in the upper town in 1642, on the site where the modern buildings are situated today.  Their school for girls gradually flourished, and they soon built a boarding house to accept live-in students.



Because the school exclusively taught female students, the curriculum focused on what were considered "the female arts", with an emphasis on sewing and needlework.  The craftsmanship in all of the articles on exhibition in the museum is nothing short of spectacular.  Samplers and baby garments were created with as much care and attention to detail as the elaborate altar pieces and religious robes.  Of distinction is the collection of liturgical vestments and altar frontals, which include examples of the most remarkable three-dimensional embroidery techniques:  the silver, gold and silk threads are padded-up and reinforced by horse hair, which is then completely covered over by the exquisite stitching.  The students were taught a complete range of artistic subjects, including drawing, painting, sculpting, and the playing of a wide variety of musical instruments.

The girls of New France were exceptionally fortunate, because the nuns also believed in instructing them in subjects that were traditionally reserved for boys.  As well as learning cooking and nutritional health, they were given lessons in chemistry and physics.  They were taught ways to prevent and treat illness and injury, and also received courses in botany and biology. They were taught to run an economically sound household, and the complex mathematical skills required to ensure that this would be a certainty.  The idea of giving females a complete and well-rounded education was a revolutionary one in the early 1600's.  It is astounding to think of the kind of lives the average female faced in Europe at that time by comparison:  such teaching was reserved for the highest nobility, and even then, women were rarely (if ever) given the opportunity to actually utilize the knowledge that they had.  Advanced schooling made them "marriage-able", and almost never "power-ful".  The colony of New France was a whole new playing-field, however.  Establishing and maintaining a self-sustaining life was unthinkably hard, and all people-- men, women and children alike-- had to use every wit and ounce of stamina they had in order to survive.  In this way, women DID become "power-ful", as clever, skilled and practical females provided a strong foundation upon which to build a new society.

It was not only the French colonist families that desired their daughters to be educated by the Ursuline nuns.  One of the things that I admire the most about the life and work of Marie de l’Incarnation was her acceptance of, and devotion to her many Aboriginal Canadian students. She was soon able to teach these young girls and women in the Huron, Algonkian, Montagnais, and Iroquois tongues.

When we visited the convent, chapel and final resting place of Marie de l’Incarnation, we were guided by a member of the "modern" Ursuline Order.  She told us that the favourite school-room of their founding Mother was outdoors, under a particular ash tree.  She would sit, and the Native children would gather around her, in the atmosphere where they felt most comfortable.  The ash tree lived for many, many more years than Marie de l’Incarnation, who passed away on April 30, 1672.  Once it fell, however, it was severed into many pieces, which were passed on to other churches and kept as holy relics.

I had a wonderful chat with our guide, and our conversation deepened when we discovered we were both teachers.  I told her a little bit about the extremely challenging year I had just experienced with the community class I had taught, and she was full of good counsel and encouragement.  She eventually pushed a small prayer pamphlet into my hands, and invited me to sit down in a beautifully carved wooden chair, beside Marie de l’Incarnation's tomb.  She left me to it, and I was able to enjoy ten or fifteen minutes of silent solitude, which was remarkably refreshing and surprisingly restful, considering the emotional turbulence that had been plaguing me since school had let out just a few short days before.

As I was departing the chapel, the tiny nun approached me to say goodbye, and asked me if I was feeling better.  I said that I was, and promised that I would persevere and make positive changes in my teaching career.

It was then that she pointed back towards the chair that I had been sitting in.

"That cross?" she said, in her deeply accented English.  She pointed to a tiny carved detail, which was an insertion of blond wood, in contrast to the rest of the chair which was stained a much deeper colour.

"That cross is made from the ash tree.  Her tree.  I thought it might help you to sit there." 

December 12

Christmas in Old Quebec City, Canada

'Twas in the Moon of Wintertime

arranged by John Rutter

and performed by The Cambridge Singers  

'Twas in the moon of winter-time
When all the birds had fled,
That mighty Gitchi Manitou
Sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim,
And wandering hunter heard the hymn:
"Jesus your King is born,
Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria."

 Within a lodge of broken bark
The tender Babe was found,
A ragged robe of rabbit skin
Enwrapp'd His beauty round;
But as the hunter braves drew nigh,
The angel song rang loud and high...
"Jesus your King is born,
Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria."

 O children of the forest free,
O sons of Manitou,
The Holy Child of earth and heaven
Is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant Boy
Who brings you beauty, peace and joy.
"Jesus your King is born,
Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria."

I have written extensively about this carol in previous years.  It is one of my favourites, and not just because it is said to be the very first Christmas carol written and sung on Canadian soil;  in or around the date 1642.

I love it mainly because it is a example of respect between two cultures working together to establish a "common ground" and understanding.

Father Jean de Brébeuf was a Jesuit missionary who was sent from France to the New World. From what we now know as "Old" Quebec City, he traveled West, and eventually settled near where I live, in a place called "Sainte-Marie Among the Hurons", in what is now Midland, Ontario. Father Brébeuf was a truly great man, and he loved and admired the people he was sent to serve. Like any good teacher, he understood that he had as much (if not more) to learn from the Huron people as they did from him.

 A prime example of this was in his understanding of the necessity to preserve and record the Wendat language. As a scholar, he excelled in the study and acquisition of languages, and he demonstrated a significant ability to represent sounds in writing. He is also said to have mastered the native oratory style, which used metaphor, circumlocution and repetition, in order to tell a story. He was the first to record the existence of compound words in the Wendat language, and this enormous breakthrough in the study of Native language became the foundation for all further Jesuit linguistic work.

 Father Brébeuf wrote what is now referred to as "The Huron Carol" in the Wendat language. The song's original title is "Jesous Ahatonhia", which means "Jesus is Born". The melody is based upon a traditional French folk song, "Un Jeune Pucelle". In 1926, Jesse Edgar Middleton translated the carol into English. The story of the Nativity is told in such a way that it "blends" the two very different cultures: Jesus is born in a lodge of broken bark, rather than a stable, and wrapped in rabbit skin, rather than swaddling clothes. He is surrounded by hunters, rather than shepherds, and the name used to refer to the Creator, Gitchi Manitou, originates from the Algonquian dialect. Brébeuf seemed to understand that the Native people would never simply abandon all of their traditional beliefs, and made a great effort to make his Christian teachings more acceptable for the Huron.

The Martyr's Shrine
Midland, Ontario

In 1649, Father Jean de Brébeuf, along with several other Jesuit priests and many native converts, was captured by the enemy of the Huron tribe, the Iroquois. The priests were taken to the occupied village of Taenhatenteron, where they were subjected to ritual torture. While enduring the unthinkable, it is said that Father Brébeuf was far more concerned for his fellow captives than for himself. Apparently even the Iroquois were amazed by the bravery shown in his stoic, silent suffering. He was finally burned to death on March 17th. Beatified in 1925, he was canonized as a saint in 1930. He is now a patron saint of Canada.

 Last summer, I had the opportunity to travel to Quebec City with my eldest daughter, who was embarking on a five-week French exchange. While there, we toured many churches and cathedrals, including the beautiful Jesuit chapel.

We were welcomed by a charming gentleman who spoke mainly French, "with a little bit of English".  He was delighted by our questions, and happily toured us around the beautiful sanctuary, rich in art work and steeped in history.  One of my favourite parts of our afternoon was when he beckoned us over to a pew stall.  He pointed down towards the floor as he moved the kneeler back and forth.  A deep groove had been worn in the wooden floor beneath the little legs of the kneeler:  an indication of just how many people had worshiped in that very place.  

In my rusty highschool French, I attempted to express how much I have always admired Jean de Brébeuf, especially as he had worked and been martyred so near to where I live. He led me towards the gilded wooden altar-- upon which carvings of sheaves of wheat represent the bounty of the New World-- and gestured to the left. There was Father Brébeuf. His remains do not rest in the chapel, however.  Jean de Brébeuf is buried at the Church of St. Joseph, at what is now the reconstructed site of Sainte-Marie Among the Hurons.  He will always be remembered in the work and beautiful music for which he sacrificed his earthly life. 

December 11

Le Message des Anges

performed by the vocal ensemble "Le Petit Sablon"

Les anges dans nos campagnes 

Ont entonné l´hymne des cieux, 

Et l´écho de nos montagnes 

Redit ce chant mélodieux : 

Gloria in excelsis Deo 

 Bergers, pour qui cette fête? 

Quel est l´objet de tous ces chants? 

Quel vainqueur, quelle conquête 

Mérite ces cris triomphants : 

Gloria in excelsis Deo 

 Ils annoncent la naissance 

Du libérateur d´Israël 

Et pleins de reconnaissance 

Chantent en ce jour solennel : 

Gloria in excelsis Deo

 Cherchons tous l´heureux village 

Qui l´a vu naître sous ses toits 

Offrons-lui le tendre hommage 

Et de nos cœurs et de nos voix : 

Gloria in excelsis Deo 

 Bergers, quittez vos retraites, 

Unissez-vous à leurs concerts, 

Et que vos tendres musettes 

Fassent retenir les airs : 

Gloria in excelsis Deo

This traditional seventeenth century French carol originates from the Languedoc Region, and has gone by many titles, including "Échos de Bethléem", "J'entends là-bas dans la plaine", and "Les Anges dans nos Campagnes".  It was published in Paris in 1842, and was likely introduced to French Canada at about that same time.  The English version of the carol was translated in 1862 by James Chadwick, who was the Roman Catholic Bishop of Hexham and Newcastle, in the north-east of England.  Because "Angels We Have Heard on High" became popular so quickly in that area, it is often referred to as a "Cornish" carol, as described by R. R. Chope, and featured in Pickard-Cambridge's Collection of Dorset Carols.

December 10

Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming 

performed by The Vasari Singers

 DET är en ros utsprungen av Jesse rotoch stam. 

Av fädren ren besjungen den står i tiden fram,

En blomma skär och blid,

Mitt i den kalla vinter i midnatts mörka tid. 

 Lo, how a Rose e’er blooming from tender stem hath sprung! 

Of Jesse’s lineage coming, as men of old have sung. 

It came a floweret bright amid the cold of winter,

When half spent was the night. 

 This German traditional carol, set to an anonymous verse, was first published in the Speyer Hymnal in Cologne in 1599.  The version here today was commissioned by The Choir of King's College Cambridge, and was first performed at their "Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols" in 2009.  The music was composed by Michael Praetorius, and this choral arrangement was composed by Jan Sandström.   The anonymous verse was translated

 into Swedish by Thelka Knös, and into English by Theodore Baker.

In which I could sing "Hallelujah"...

...because the "Heart Blanket" is done, just in time to welcome a baby boy.

**WHEW**

Maybe I'll settle for a little celebratory "Tequila" instead:

Because after knitting 108 tiny little hearts, I deserve it.

December 9

Mrs. Beeton's Christmas Plum Pudding

a classic recipe set to music by John Harle,

performed by The BBC Singers

For as long as I can remember, my dear old dad has never failed to deliver The Classic Line From the Kitchen during the grand finale of our family's Christmas Dinner:

"IS EVERYBODY WATCHING???!!  Here it comes!!!

Damn...  could somebody hand me another match?"

December 8

Little Tree

poem by e.e. cummings, set to music by Eric Whitacre

and performed by the BYU Choirs

little tree 

little silent Christmas tree 

you are so little 

you are more like a flower 

 who found you in the green forest 

and were you very sorry to come away? 

see     i will comfort you 

because you smell so sweetly 

 i will kiss your cool bark 

and hug you safe and tight 

just as your mother would, 

only don't be afraid 

 look     the spangles 

that sleep all the year in a dark box 

dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine, 

the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads, 

 put up your little arms 

and i'll give them all to you to hold 

every finger shall have its ring 

and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy 

 then when you're quite dressed 

you'll stand in the window for everyone to see 

and how they'll stare! 

oh but you'll be very proud 

 and my little sister and i will take hands 

and looking up at our beautiful tree

 we'll dance and sing 

"Noel Noel"

"Be of love a little more careful than of anything."

--e.e. cummings

December 7

"Christmas is Coming"

by Vince Guaraldi, performed by Dave Benoit, 

for the album"40 Years:  A Charlie Brown Christmas"

It's hard to believe that it's been over 40 years since the first Peanuts animated film appeared on our television screens.  And after reading about the history of this program, it's even harder to believe that it made it to our television screens at all.

Judging by the choppy and primitive animation style, it will not come as news that "A Charlie Brown Christmas" was produced on a shoestring budget.  However, when Charles M. Schulz was later approached with the idea of making improvements to the original film and soundtrack, he did not hesitate to veto the idea immediately.  After all the good fights that had been fought to produce "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on HIS terms, Mr. Schulz was not about to allow anyone to change a single thing-- not for the sake of "progress", or even the availability of a bigger budget.  

One of the many nits chief network executives picked about the show was its absence of a laugh track.  How, they attempted to reason, would the American public know what was meant to be funny, unless it was explicitly indicated?  Charles Schulz was adamant in his refusal, stating not only his faith in basic human intelligence, but also his fans' understanding and appreciation for the Peanuts characters.  This did not stop chief executives from creating a version that included canned laughter, just in case Schulz changed his mind.  He never did.  Although it was never actually used on television, the dumbed-down "unauthorized" version of the film apparently makes an occasional appearance on the internet.

Executives also had qualms about the decision to use actual children to voice several of the characters, rather than hiring adults.  Although Peter Robbins (the voice of Charlie Brown), Christopher Shea (Linus) and Tracy Stratford (Lucy) were experienced young actors, others had some difficulty.  Kathy Steinburg, the little girl who played Sally, was so young that she couldn't read, and had to be cued one line at a time, throughout the entire production.

Apparently, the inclusion of jazz music composed by the great Vince Guaraldi was also felt to be an inappropriate choice for what CBS considered to be a "children's program".

Clearly, the Powers that Be had completely missed the point of what the "Peanuts" comic strip was actually all about.

As I'm sure you can all imagine, the BIGGEST fight that Charles M. Schulz had with the network was about the inclusion of Linus' monologue.  Schulz, who was a deeply spiritual man, wanted to not only include the story of Christ's birth, taken from the Gospel of Luke, but he also insisted upon using the King James Version of the Bible as the script.

Executives tried every argument they could think of to influence him to cut the scene.  They were convinced that the American public would completely loose interest in the show and change the channel...  And when it became clear that they weren't going to win, they tried using a threat:

"We will, of course, air it next week, 

but I'm afraid we won't be ordering any more."

Schulz was nonplussed.  He is reported to have said:

"If we don't tell the true meaning of Christmas, who will?"

The rest, as they say, is history.

"A Charlie Brown Christmas" aired for the first time on December 9, 1965, and immediately became a critical and commercial hit.  

In spite of all, the network's fears, Schulz had not over-estimated the public.  People "got it".  They loved every minute of the film, and found the primitive quirkiness of the production to be completely endearing.

Best of all, though, was the critical reception of Linus' monologue, which executives had railed so hard against.

Dorothy Van Horne, of The New York World-Telegram, wrote:

"Linus' reading of the story of the Nativity was, quite simply, 

the dramatic highlight of the season."

For many of us... it still is.

December 6

"If Ye Would Hear the Angels Sing"

composed by Peter Tranchell, lyrics by Dora Greenwell,

and sung by The Choir of King's College, Cambridge

I f ye would hear the angels sing 

‘Peace on earth and mercy mild’, 

Think of him who was once a child, 

On Christmas Day in the morning. 

If ye would hear the angels sing, 

Rise, and spread you Christmas fare; 

‘Tis merrier still the more that share, 

On Christmas Day in the morning. 

Rise and bake your Christmas bread: 

Christians, rise! the world is bare, 

And blank, and dark with want and care, 

Yet Christmas comes in the morning, 

If ye would hear the angels sing, 

Christians! See ye let each door 

Stand wider than it e’er stood before, 

On Christmas Day in the morning. 

Rise, and open wide the door; 

Christians, rise! The world is wide, 

And many there be that stand outside, 

Yet Christmas comes in the morning.

December 5

Some Children See Him

Music by Dave Gruskin, Lyrics by Wihla Hutson and Alfred S. Burt,

performed by James Taylor

Some children see Him lily white, 

The baby Jesus born this night. 

Some children see Him lily white, 

With tresses soft and fair. 

Some children see Him bronzed and brown, 

The Lord of heav’n to earth come down.

 Some children see Him bronzed and brown, 

With dark and heavy hair. 

 Some children see Him almond-eyed, 

This Savior whom we kneel beside. 

Some children see Him almond-eyed, 

With skin of yellow hue. 

Some children see Him dark as they, 

Sweet Mary’s Son to whom we pray. 

Some children see him dark as they, 

And, ah! they love Him, too! 

 The children in each different place 

Will see the baby Jesus’ face 

Like theirs, but bright with heavenly grace, 

And filled with holy light. 

O lay aside each earthly thing 

And with thy heart as offering, 

Come worship now the infant King. 

‘Tis love that’s born tonight!

I am extremely fortunate to live and work in one of the most culturally diverse communities in North America.

And every, single day, it is not lost on me that I go to school to teach children...  but more often than not, it is the children who teach me.  From them, I learn more than I ever imagined I could.

As a middle-aged, pink-skinned woman, I am the minority, and often a great curiosity to these delightful little people.  They constantly pepper me with questions:  

"How old are you??" 

"Do you have a husband?"  

"How many children??" 

"Are you wearing MAKE-UP??"

One child saw me knitting, and immediately wanted to know, "Do you have GRAND CHILDREN??"

(I confess:  I immediately went shopping for new face cream, once the final bell rang that day...)

The children I teach proudly proclaim themselves to be "Brown", and range in shades from a delicate milky-almond to the most robust deep chocolate you can imagine.  

They are all beautiful.  Every, single one of them.  

I never tire of hearing tales of their families and home life.  In many cases, extended family members live all in one home, and I often have tremendous difficulty sorting out who are the sisters-and-brothers-or-cousins of whom.  The bonds are intense, and everyone looks after one another.

Many are brand new immigrants to this country.  When I begin the process of booking parent-teacher interviews, the invitations are sent home translated into no fewer than five different languages.  As responses trickle in, I ensure that the correct translators are available to be present, so that we can communicate with one another.

Sometimes, though, words are not necessary.

During the early days of my first teaching placement several years ago, a worried grandfather who did not speak a word of English appeared at my classroom door.  Using hand gestures and facial expressions, he did his best to convey to me that he wanted to know if his newly-arrived grandson was adjusting to his new school.  It took a few minutes for me to fully understand who he was, and what it was that he wanted to know...  but when I smiled and began speaking gently as I pulled books and drawings out of the little boy's desk, the grandfather began to relax and smile, too.   He eventually turned to leave, and I walked him to the doorway of my classroom.  He made a slight bow, and then chastely kissed my hand in an expression of gratitude.

Few gestures have ever carried as much meaning for me as that one did.

No matter who we are, no matter what part of the world we come from...  our children are our treasures.

Between them, my students celebrate nearly every, single holiday and religious observance on the calendar. There are a great many times of the year when I need to be sensitive about scheduling assignment due-dates and assessments.  When children have been absent from class, I always make a special effort to build time into our schedule for "community circle", when we all sit down together to talk and share.  When I begin asking questions about what it was like to go to celebrate in a Temple, or a Mosque, the children fairly burst with information: what they wore, what they sang, what they ate, how they danced...  It is always fascinating.

Several children have brought me copies of a sort of "comic book" which depicts the lives of their Gods-- I have been allowed to keep them to read, for as long as I like.  A group of little girls once offered to let me join their dancing group, and enthusiastically demonstrated the steps that they knew.  Last year, one sweet thing brought me a beautiful clay lamp, as I had mentioned my admiration for the observance of Diwali, and had said that I would like to light a candle with my own three girls.

"My kids", as I call them, are always incredibly generous with their knowledge and understanding.  

And for the most part, they take one another's differences completely in stride.

One of the loveliest sights of the winter is the beautiful Holiday Tree that is put up in the foyer of our school.  The ornaments are as diverse as the students in attendance, and symbolically reflect the many different celebrations that occur during the year.  These trees bring everything and everyone together, in one enormous, beautiful display.

I'll never forget that first year of teaching, when for the first time, the community circle discussion about "Christmas" ventured beyond presents, and the fat, bearded visitor in the red suit.  To be honest, it had not surprised me that so many families had chosen to adopt the "Western" tradition of including a visit from Santa Claus in their holiday plans.

"My kids" finally asked me what my children and I would be doing over the holidays.  I began to tell them about the decorations, the arrival of family, the preparation of the dinner, and of course, our Santa Claus...  

But I also told them a little bit about church, and all the beautiful music, the pipe organ and the choir.

Their enormous brown eyes betrayed their amazement as I spoke:  clearly they had never considered this before.

"You mean you're CHRISTIAN??!" exclaimed one little boy at last.

"COOOOOL!!" said another.

Never before in my life had I ever been considered a "novelty" for this reason.  It was yet another instance when I felt so grateful and proud to be a citizen of a place that is truly a "multicultural mosaic".

The next day was Friday...  the last day before our two-week school break began.  We had a class party, did special crafts and activities.

But before we all left for the day, a little girl approached me shyly.  She pushed a package wrapped in crumpled grey tissue paper into my hands.

"Here," she said.  "My dad took me out last night.  I got this for you.  To help you celebrate your Christmas."

I carefully undid the lashings of scotch tape, and my gift was revealed.

It was a crude plastic figurine depicting the Virgin Mary, in all of her alarming dollar store glory.

It remains one of the loveliest gifts I have ever received, and is still one of my most prized possessions.

"Some children see Him..."

I have learned so much during these extraordinary years.

I've learned that the real truth is this:

It doesn't matter how any child sees Jesus.  

A great many children really don't know very much about Jesus, if anything at all.  

They don't need to.  They have their own traditions; their own ways of understanding, expressing and celebrating Love.

What really matters-- really, truly matters-- is how children see one another.

I'm pretty sure that that's what Jesus thinks is most important, too.

December 4

"Sleighride"

music by Leroy Anderson, lyrics added by Mitchell Parish,

and performed (mercifully) by Sam Bush

I know what you're all thinking...

"She's cracked.  She HATES this piece.  And it's not even Monday yet..."

You're right.

I am.  I do.  And it isn't.

This piece is all wrong for me.  The words don't even mention Christmas.  They sing about pumpkin pie, which is actually more of a reference to Thanksgiving, for crying out loud.

But the words (which weren't actually penned for the tune until two years after it had been published and performed as a purely orchestral arrangement) aren't the only thing that is annoying about this piece.

The composer began writing "Sleighride" during a heatwave in July, 1946. Presumably, even he found the whole project so unbearable, it took him nearly two years to finish the damn thing-- which he finally did, in February, 1948. 

(Probably just in time for Valentine's Day.  I'd be willing lay a bet.)

Admit it, though-- the art work I've found for today is interesting.  

(Do you have any IDEA how hard it is to come up with an illustration of a Christmas Carrot?!)

Intrigued?

I actually like Sam Bush's guitar and mandolin arrangement.  The sound of it makes me think of the work of another artist I particularly admire:  the great Django Reinhardt.

So I began searching for something-- ANYTHING-- interesting to say about this piece, besides the usual complaint that normally, I hate the sound of it, right down to the fake whip-cracking and the last jingle bell.

As you may know, in the very last few bars of the orchestral version, there is a part for trumpet that IF done properly (and that's a big "if"), sounds very much like the whinnying of a horse.

In the early days of this piece, it was apparently traditional for the trumpet player who performed this part to be allowed a special "curtain call" of his own.  At the end of the performance, the conductor would single him out with a gesture, and the trumpet player would make a spectacularly exaggerated bow.

As he arose from this posture, he was ceremoniously presented with...

An enormous bouquet of carrots.

(And that's not Christmassy at all, either.  More Easter.  Just sayin'...)

Joyful.

Because I have a "thing" for flash mobs, especially when it comes to good music.

And, because of the miracle that a BANK (of all institutions) provided some lucky Spaniards with a little bit of much-needed joy.

December 3

"The Annunciation"

by Carl Heinrich Bloch

"Hymn to the Virgin"

music composed by Benjamin Britten, set to a c 1300 verse,

and performed by The Cambridge Singers

Of one that is so fayr and bright 
 Velut maris stella, 
Brighter than the dayes light, 
Parens et puella: 
Ic crie to thee, thou see to me, 
Levedy, preye thi Sone for me 
Tam pia, 
That ich mote come to thee. 
Maria! 

Levedy, flour of alle thing, 
Rosa sine spina, 
Thu bere Jhesu, hevene king, 
Gratia divina: 
Of alle thu berst the pris,
Levedy, quene of Parays 
Electa, 
Maide milde, 
Moder es 
Effecta.

Edward Benjamin Britten was born in the East Suffolk town of Lowestoft in 1913 on November 22:  the Feast of Saint Cecilia, patron saint of music.  His mother was a keen amateur musician, and encouraged all of her children to develop their own interests in music.  Of the four offspring, young Benjamin was the most enthusiastic of them all.  At first, it was mathematics and the pattern of the dots and lines on the paper that captured his interest.  He confessed that one day, he took a "drawing" of a musical manuscript he had made, and demanded that his mother attempt to play it on the piano.  The look of horror on his mother's face upset him considerably, but thankfully, her response did not dampen his enthusiasm.  He was soon enrolled in music lessons, and by the age of ten, was studying both the piano and the viola.  He was fortunate to have teachers who encouraged him not only to practice, but also to attend concerts.  It was at one of these concerts that he first heard Frank Bridge's orchestral poem "The Sea", and experienced a life-changing moment.  He was, in his own words, "knocked sideways".  An introduction was soon arranged for Benjamin and Frank Bridge, and Bridge took the boy on as his pupil.

Benjamin Britten's childhood years were remarkable, and he produced a great many works, some of which were of a very high standard. They include a symphony, various other orchestral pieces, works for chamber ensemble, suites for solo piano, drafts for Masses, the symphonic poem "Chaos and Cosmos", and many songs.  All of these works now form the extensive collection of his juvenilia at the Britten-Pears Library.

Even after leaving home to become a boarder at Gresham’s School at Holt in Norfolk, he pursued his musical passion and was extremely prolific.  In spite of terrible homesickness, he wrote, performed and listened to music at every opportunity, and often sat up in bed reading musical scores.  From this time come his settings of poems by Walter de la Mare, Hilaire Belloc, and the orchestral cycle "Quatre Chansons Françaises", with words by Victor Hugo and Paul Verlaine.

"Hymn to the Virgin" was one of Benjamin Britten's earliest religious choral works, and was written before he left Gresham's School:  he would only have been about fourteen or fifteen years old.  The piece was published in 1930, and first performed at a concert given by the Lowestoft Musical Society in St. John's Church on January 5, 1931.  Britten was then just eighteen years of age.

Many years later in 1956, "Simple Symphony" (a piece based upon works included in Britten's collection of juvenilia) was recorded.  The composer wrote this little portrait of his younger self to be included on the sleeve note:

"Once upon a time there was a prep-school boy. ... He was quite an ordinary little boy ... he loved cricket, only quite liked football (although he kicked a pretty "corner"); he adored mathematics, got on all right with history, was scared by Latin Unseen; he behaved fairly well, only ragged the recognised amount, so that his contacts with the cane or the slipper were happily rare (although one nocturnal expedition to stalk ghosts left its marks behind); he worked his way up the school slowly and steadily, until at the age of thirteen he reached that pinnacle of importance and grandeur never to be quite equalled in later days: the head of the Sixth, head-prefect, and Victor Ludorum. But – there was one curious thing about this boy: he wrote music. His friends bore with it, his enemies kicked a bit but not for long (he was quite tough), the staff couldn't object if his work and games didn't suffer. He wrote lots of it, reams and reams of it."

December 2

"You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch"
performed by The Tennessee Tech Trombone Choir

It's Monday.

Which means that we take a look at the "lighter side" of Christmas music, to help us along with the idea of stomaching the week ahead.

I always loved this movie when I was a kid...  but not for the reason you might think.

Oh, yes, it's WONDERFUL that he eventually found the true meaning of Christmas, and that his heart grew to the point of practically bursting out of his chest.  He even footed the bill for all the celebrations.  Whoopee.

I like the "Before" from this before-and-after story.  I like the Bad Guy.

Every year, I plopped my tiny bott down on the old red chesterfield in front of the tv.  And I simply couldn't WAIT for the part when the Grinch came up with his idea... his awful idea... his wonderful, awful idea.

I loved that smile, and all its curlicues.  I love it still.

So here's my Grinch in all his glory, performed on the only instruments truly perfect enough to honour the occasion:

An entire CHOIR of brass trombones.

You're welcome.

December 1

"There Is a Star"

performed by The BYU Combined Choirs and Orchestra

lyrics by 19th Century minister Joseph Martin

It's the First of December!

Welcome, one and all, to the sixth season of the Musical Advent Calendar here at "I Can Fly, Just Not Up"!

I hope that you'll find our musical selections in celebration of the Christmas Season to be a restful interlude from all the hustle and bustle leading up to the Big Day.

It's sad but true that the "busy-ness of life" makes it necessary that we remember to schedule a little time for ourselves every once in awhile.

It's not easy.  Trust me, I get it.

My regular readers know that I'm a mother to three rapidly growing girls, juggling a career as a teacher with a side-gig at a knitting store.  If I'm not tap-dancing as fast as I can at the front of a classroom, or helping to facilitate other peoples' yarn habits, it's a pretty safe bet that my rear-end is firmly glued to the driver's seat of the New Blue Loser Cruiser.

We are ALWAYS on the go; rarely at home.

I confess, I AM THAT WOMAN standing in the grocery line knitting a sock while I wait, usually during the five-o'clock arsenic hour, while the kids are engaged in various extra-curricular activities...  Yes, I am that obsessed with not wasting a single moment of my waking hours.

Meditation?

Hah!

"You're a long time dead," my Grandmother used to say.

THAT'S when I'll catch up on my sleep.

But Christmas...

That's a whole other level of stress, altogether.  Talk about having to try to be all things, to all people.

We mothers of the world MAKE Christmas.  We INVENTED it.  The Holy Mother herself did the best she could for her family, under the circumstances in which she found herself, that first Christmas Eve.

At this time of year, my gift to you, from one busy person to another, is this:

A golden opportunity every day, from now until December 25, to sit down and rest.  Just BE.  Don't do anything, don't cook anything, don't wrap anything.  Put your feet up, and close your eyes.  NO mental list-making!!  And no worrying.

Just listen.

Christmas is coming, whether we attend to all that racket out there or not.  It doesn't have to be a perfect, grand production.  In fact, it's often more memorable if it isn't.

I'm casting my mind back, now, to several years ago when I was expecting 13 for Christmas Eve Dinner. The brand new dining set had all arrived, EXCEPT FOR THE TABLE'S FOUR LEGS.  I seriously considered throwing the linen on the floor, nipping out to the Dollar Store for chopsticks, and serving everything Japanese-style.  My main concern, however, was that if, even by some miracle, I managed to get the majority of the adults comfortable on their knees...  would they ever be able to get back UP?!

Happily, the crisis was averted literally minutes before my guests all arrived.  The table legs had been found by the delivery company in another van, in another town.  The owner himself, along with his two sons, made the long trek back to our place and finished assembling the furniture, on an evening when they all should have been in their own homes, celebrating with their own families.

I was so grateful, I packaged up and gave them the three big tins of Scottish shortbread I had cranked out in preparation for my company's arrival.

We may have been shortbread-less that Christmas Eve, but we were all able to gather around our table.

Those three guys didn't HAVE to search high-and-low, and then come back with those table legs that night...  they could easily have just gone home.  I would have understood if they had-- two of them had young children of their own.

They didn't just practice good business that day.  They re-affirmed my belief in the goodness of human beings:  that doing what's right and what's kind is more important than doing what's easy.

And that right there, folks, is the true essence of the Christmas spirit.

Sometimes we just need to calm ourselves and slow down a little bit to realize that it's here with us, all the time.  It's all around us.

We just need a good excuse to stop, to look around, and notice.

The music here every day will be your excuse to do just that.

Enjoy.