Assembling Christmas & Oh, That Feeling

This time of December, pictures of Christmas trees take over social media. Normally, it's pictures of tasty looking foods, babies, or kittens in cups. But for now, it's holiday decor that inundates the senses. I, for one, am totally okay with that! I, in fact, am happily hopping on that band wagon. If you hate Christmas - skip this post. (And maybe the next couple to come, as well. Because this is pretty much my favorite time of year.)

I spent last Saturday with my parents again, picking out and cutting down my Christmas tree.  I think this is my new favorite holiday tradition as an adult. It's great to include my parents in my new traditions. I know that they appreciate being a part of the excitement. There's something lost when the kiddos aren't around for the Christmas season. I guess I'm still a "kiddo" to them. (Who am I kidding? I'm still a kiddo, period.)

This year I transported, trimmed, and erected the tree entirely on my own. Stan was around to help me hang the ornaments, though. We had fun unpacking the box of tissue-wrapped memories. Each had a story, some longer than others. Above, in the circles, are a few of my favorite ornaments. 

• A couple came from my grandparents' tree: the glittery (DISCO!) Santa, and the mod, glass kitty. 
• The glass Santa has been broken since the day I picked it as my choice of a gift from my grandparents and squeezed just a little too hard. The edges of glass look as though they've burnt but it's just time's wear on the glass. 
• The little doll is half of a pair, my sister has the little boy. (I think I'm the girl because I probably threw a fit.) 
• The last one is the clip on name badge I was given when I checked in as a visitor at the hospital the day my niece, Lily, was born.

A Christmas tree full of memories. Now for some great Holiday tunes, a mug of cocoa with peppermint schnapps. Dim the lights. Cuddle up. Ahhh. There's that feeling I've looked forward to all year. 

Also- I think you ought to get a closer look at disco Santa.

Finding Pretty Things on a Rainy Day

This weekend is the big city-wide garage sale weekend in Tipp City. Madison and I hit up some spots this evening as a precursor to what could be a whole day of yard snooping tomorrow. The clouds darkened ominously, but we got to a few juicy sales before the rain started. Some treasures of the evening?

A Marlbolo Great Trails Rand McNally Road Atlas Wallet & Pretty Blue Scarf. (I suppose there's no NEED for such an atlas in my life. But it's so darn adorable and stylish!)

A Vintage Brass Magazine Rack. I already have a magazine rack, but who could pass this up?! It's so wonderfully vintage and in pretty great condition. I was thinking if it doesn't hold reading materials it will hold craft supplies. Maybe even yarn.)

After our shopping, we went for dinner at Harrison's. Madison labeled our take home boxes. We dashed from awning to stoop trying to avoid being drenched on our way to the car.

The light this evening was beautiful. The sky was both bright and dark. Spurts of sun made the wet sidewalks glimmer like gold. I was so happy to be out and about, spending time with a friend rather than inside, despite the weather.

This week has been a challenge for me. My Grampa Weiant passed away last Saturday. He had been struggling with health issues for a couple years, but it was still hard to believe that he -the most persistent and proactive man I have ever known- could have been conquered by pneumonia. He passed away surrounded by family. I got to say goodbye and I know he was proud of me and my life's path. I am at peace with his death, knowing that he is in no pain and partying with Jesus. Still, I miss my Grampa.

Days like this one -with the beautiful dichotomy of light and darkness- remind me of the importance of the rough patches in life. They press us to rely on faithfulness and trust in God for strength. Grampa took a long time to become the gentle man I knew him to be, God worked in his stubborn heart for years before winning him over. As a result of his darker times, Grampa became a man who invested himself in my life, supporting me through my uncertain years and encouraging me to do things I loved. He also pressed me and challenged me to work hard to achieve greatness. What a fantastic man. I am so blessed to have had 28 years to know and love him in person.

Memorial to a Southern Mentor - Mike Mullins

For any of you that might not know, I grew up in a small town in Kentucky. Nowhere near the big cities, but tucked away into the foothills of the Appalachian mountains. I lived in a tiny, close knit community. In a county with one stop light, where any stranger could easily be connected to you through one degree of separation. 

shed at the Hindman Settlement School, Hindman, KY

But I wasn't born into my Kentucky citizenship, it took a great deal of indoctrination. You see, my family moved to Pippa Passes, Kentucky from eastern Ohio when I was 8 years old. At first it was a real struggle for me. Everything was new, I didn't know anyone, and I could hardly understand what people were saying through their country twangs. In short time, however, my heart melted for the place and the good people that live there. 

the view from the top of my hill in Knott, County, KY

Even now, after 6 years away, that region and those nestling hills represent the strongest ties I have. There were a few people who taught me to love Kentucky the way that I do. One of those mentors was my first boss, Mike Mullins, at the Hindman Settlement School. 

Mike and his wife Frieda were staples in my life from church. Where I grew up, it was still a cultural understanding that it takes a village to raise a child. As a result, I had a great many wonderful adults who invested themselves, at different levels of involvement, into my up-bringing. My own parents were raised in Ohio, and though they enjoy and respect Appalachian heritage, it wasn't something I could inherit from them. It was through my kinship with people like the Mullins' and my dear friend Virginia Combs that I grew into the Kentucky girl I am today.

Mike passed away yesterday, at age 63, from a heart attack. Even from all the way up north in Tipp City, OH I can feel the great void his passing will leave in Knott County, KY. He will be sorely missed.

The following is an excerpt from a paper I wrote while doing a summer internship at the Hindman Settlement School during the summer of 2005. 

* * *

Evening up the Score 

One morning, as I pull into work I meet Mike walking down the hill from the summer school girls’ dorm. Five or six little girls came in tow, donning tangled hair and glittered jeans, still sleepy-eyed. Mike holds a rifle in one hand. 

tackling some copperheads with a rifle

“Is that the only way you can get them up in the morning?” I ask. 

He shakes his head. Mike’s not really a laugher. He’s a happy guy, but with his job, it's as if he's too busy to smile. In all of the pictures he’s taken over the years for local and statewide newspapers, Mike mostly sports this same “get on with it” look, his mouth sometimes open in conversation with the photographer, telling him what he should remember to include in the shot. Mike’s still a bit of a newspaper man himself. He knows what makes good news. He’s now spent much more time as the cover story than in the paper business, but he’s still uncomfortable in front of the camera. 

the lucky hawk

This particular morning he’s got his sleeves rolled up around his elbows doing some of the more hands-on work of his executive position. 

“He shot a bird,” a little girl says matter-of-factly as she runs past me towards breakfast. 

Mike points to the front of the office building with his free hand. “Some crows were gangin’ up on this hawk over there.” He slaps the butt of the rifle on his palm like a baseball bat. “I just evened up the score a bit.” 

He chuckles so abruptly I believe he surprises even himself. Just reveling in another one of the perks of his job, it seems. 

* * * 

Seems like this happened just yesterday. It is easy for me to imagine Mike sitting in his office in the morning, the summer sun just peeking above the hilltops. I can still smell the mustiness of the old offices, hear the creak in the floorboards, feel my fingers fumbling with the old door latch. I might have sat down for a moment in a rocking chair in his office, looked around at the frames on his wall, his collection of hand-crafted election signs. One brittle board painted with the words: "Jesus is Soon Coming."

only one sign of many

In that moment or moments like it, he might have asked me what my plans were next, listened to me as I shared some unfocused dreams. Then he probably told me that I could do a lot more than I thought I could, and that whatever I did choose to do, to do it well. 

This, I know he said: No matter where I ended up, I could always come home. There would always be a place for me in Knott County. I am so grateful to know that. 

Mike's birthday/my going away lunch with some HSS "family". A smile here! 

The 5 Senses of 2011

Upon the turning of the new year it's fun to look back and consider 2011 as a stand-alone increment in my life. Soon enough I'll think back on it only in terms of the whole year. But as it is happening, it's the months or weeks that feel overwhelmingly full or important. The completion of certain tasks, the passage of a holiday or anniversary. As I grow farther away in time from those events they meld into memories of the year - eventually the decade. The littler measurements of time passage go so fast. What is a second, minute or hour? What can you do in an hour anymore? Watch an episode of a tv show? Make dinner? Even days can seem tiny. I almost wonder sometimes why we still measure time in days, they pass so quickly. Like the poor, copper penny, a day doesn't seem to be worth much anymore. Is this proof of the "inflation" of time?

Memories seem more vivid when they're tied to a sensory experience. I thought I'd throw together some 2011 highlights themed by the 5 senses. I think it will be good for me to be able to look back at this post someday and quickly be reminded of the meat of 2011.

A year of transition and discovery. A lot of my new perspective is figurative, some of it is more literal.

Family Moments. The most awesome benefit of living in Ohio is my proximity to family. As a result of my move last October I have seen tons of family on both sides of the tree. Beyond the obvious bonuses of being around my parents and my sister's family more often- I'm especially grateful for the time I've spent with: my mother's parents in Columbus, my cousin who returned from Kenya this summer after 3 years away, and my Aunt and uncle in Cleveland. My ability to see family with more frequency is changing the way I love and understand my family.

Beginning of a new country- South Sudan. Sure, I didn't see it happen, but I felt close to the excitement and progress as it happened. I served at an overnight camp for the children of Sudanese residents of Dayton as they bussed to polling places in Tennessee and Dayton. It is a beautiful thing to see the world as community rather than vastness.

New York City. At long last, I visited NYC. It begs a revisit, as I was a chaperone on this trip and much of my attention was directed to keeping track of ten bobbing teenage heads in a mega crowded city. Still, an exciting step. Especially when I realized that the big apple isn't as big and scary as my imagination was making it out to be.

Sarah's First Christmas Tree. I know I just went on about this. But it's really special. Not to mention that the new apartment, living away from home again thing is still news.

As an audiophile, it's tough to wheedle down the entries in this section.

The Fort Choir. Singing in the church choir with my dad, directed by one of my good pals. It doesn't get too much better. Oh wait, it does when you sing hardcore energetic gospel worship at a church conference full of tired old Methodist preachers. 

Lily says "Sarah". my neice's first attempts at saying her aunt's name. "Say-yuh". Totally darling. She only spent 4 months slying shaking her head "no" instead of saying it.

2011 New Music. This year I was introduced to a little new favorite music (resolutions for this year include discovering more new artists in 2012) I should mention the Avett Brothers, Ryan Montebleau and Gungor. Biggest album of the year for me? "Barton Hollow" by The Civil Wars.

Since moving away from the "big city" and to Dayton, I'm still learning the new tastes. More discovery of great lil' food joints in 2012.

 

Dayton Food Wagons. Caribbacanas after a garden work day. Go Cupcake at a feminist bash. Fressa on a moment's notice.

Press Curry Coffee. I'm not the only one who loves this coffee shop. Itty bitty Dayton's teency tiny independent coffee shop got props on a recent Zagat survey.

Skipping rocks, climbing hills, shaking hands. Touch shapes emotion in ways words cannot.

Holding Baby Ella. I was the lucky first visitor in the delivery room after my friends' baby was born. I have had some very important non-related "aunts" in my life. It is really special to be one to someone else.

Summer earthquake. While working 13 floors up in a skyrise in downtown Dayton I felt the dizzying effects of a earthquake centering out of Virginia.

Wrestling with the nephews. I'm not brawny like their daddy, but I love that I can toss the kiddos around. The three of them are all adventurous and brave. They loved to be tossed and tackled. They go through cranky pseudo-teenage phases, but sometimes they still let me cuddle up with them on the couch, too.

Smells make memories that seem to sneak up on you, so it's hard to collect a few memories of 2011 scents on command. I'll take a stab, still. 

Gas and oil on cold winter mornings. My car leaks both. I especially remember this smell on morning drives to Sinclair Community College in very early 2011.

Farmersville Harvest. This was my first rural Ohio fall. I learned what soybean harvest looks, feels, and smells like. At other moments later in fall, a second smell- fertilizer.

The Huff Family Toy Chest

Having the kids around means that the house turns into a war zone. Still- before the crazy ship lands, we clean the house from top to bottom. There's no real reason for the pre-clean. It's mostly illogical, but my dad (the science teacher) likes to say that it gives us a good way to measure the amount of mess the kids make. It creates the "control" -if you will- of cleanliness. Oh, Dad.

Since the kids are getting bigger (Isaac is 7?!) their interests are aging as well. That means that we've  unpacked some toys with higher age ranges. The eldest boys can now sit through a whole game of Life or Monopoly (though the money counting still takes some teamwork). And I drew R's and L's on their hands and feet so they could learn Twister (Aunt Sarah is the reigning Champ!). It's exciting to revisit these old games. A couple of the boxes that came out of retirement this past weekend I had totally forgotten about.

Did anyone else have these large plastic building toys? There was a set with a robot head as well, but my sister and I only had the basic kit. We made shopping carts and race cars. I think this toy may have spurred my love of tools and building. I tried to do a little internet research on the brand but we only had a tiny torn piece of the box left. I do know that they are made by Jura Castor, and I think they might be French. I wonder if they are still in business. I know 4 kiddos who would love a set of their own. (And I know one Aunt who would love for her nephews to stop breaking all of her childhood toys before she has a chance to have her (non-existant) kids play with them, too.)

Check out these two of my all time favorite (and then forgotten, evidently) toys from childhood. Rami and The Mosaic Machine both inventions of the Italian toy company Quercetti. They say they are good for ages 4-8, which seems like a peculiar age range. But I am here to say that they are STILL fun for me to play. So, perhaps it should read ages 4-27? Rami is a particularly interesting children's toy. It teaches the basics of binary to toddlers. It doesn't have the bells and whistles and lighted screens of today's toy makers, but it kept the 7 and 5 year old occupied for a good while. Quercetti is still in business and has some really cool toy designs. I guess Italians really know how to play.