White Christmas

The sky was a clear, bright blue banner reaching overhead, as two cars slowly drove down the main street of the picturesque skiing village of Stowe, Vermont.  It was the day before Christmas, and after a quick stop in the town's general store to stock up on warm woollens, the two cars, carrying 6 people, wound toward the top of a mountain on a road lined with pine trees covered in snow, and glistening in the bright light.  At the top, the six people climbed into a red wooden sleigh behind two Belgian horses that pulled the riders through the snow-covered fields  in the bracing cold as they huddled beneath the blankets and sang a round of Jingle Bells before taking us back to the lodge run by the family whose escape from Nazi-occupied Austria became the musical A Sound of Music.

In a two-horse open sleigh in Stowe, Vermont

It sounds like a movie, doesn't it?  This was Christmas 2011.  Because when you are in Vermont and it's Christmas, you get to do things like that.

Like a postcard, Stowe, Vermont on Christmas Eve

I can't tell you how happy that I was when I stepped out of the Burlington airport to find it snowing after a week when we'd been told a white Christmas wasn't in the cards.  The snow let us do the sleigh ride at the Trapp Family Lodge (you would know their story best as the Von Trapps) above Stowe, Vermont and inspired a trip to the ice skating rink on top of the more traditional holiday celebrations of presents, home cooked turkey dinner and an evening of board games.

Downtown Stowe is decked out in its holiday finest

Our sleigh ride gave us a beautiful view of the winter wonderland of Vermont's Green Mountains

I escaped an hour and a half of ice skating without my butt meeting the ice even once.  Success!

The only thing missing was my better half, an absence I felt acutely on this holiday so centered around family.  Our decision for separate Christmases was predicated on the fact that we wanted to save Troy's vacation time for when we get the call that a new family member is joining us.  It is my sincerest intentions that this was the first and last time we are spending Christmas apart.

After so much excitement, it's good to be home again.

Traditions of Christmas Past

For a long time, I really struggled with identifying our family's Christmas traditions.  It seemed we always did things the same from year to year, but I never really identified those things as "family traditions."  In my mind, a family Christmas tradition was something like gathering at Grandpa's feet while he sat in the rocking chair and read A Christmas Carol.  Or a traditional stuffing recipe that was passed down from my great great great great grandmother who made it during the Civil War.  Or bundling up in warm coats, hats and mittens to serenade our neighbors with a collective off-kilter rendition of We Wish You A Merry Christmas from their front porch.  Forgive me for that moment of sadness, when I thought of all of the things that I didn't have to pass on to our child.

But, wait.  Am I kidding?  Of course we have traditions.  And we can make traditions (ooh, I see a future blog post in the making).  I have nothing to be sad about.

Take, for instance, the annual hunt for the perfect Christmas Tree.  When we moved out here 8 years ago, Troy suggested that we find a Christmas tree farm and cut our own tree.  To a suburban girl in the country, that sounded like a dream come true.  I'd never really thought I'd have an opportunity to do it, so the suggestion  grew like a flame on dry tinder.  And 8 years (and 8 perfectly imperfect trees) later, we continue to trudge out to the middle of the field, where the dog finds every mud puddle or dried leaf, decide on a "small tree" in the field, only to find that on the car ride home it has mysteriously grown two feet and what looked like a perfectly reasonable tree in the field is now too tall for me to fit the start on top.

And then there is my annual trek back to my childhood home in Elkhart to see my high school's Christmas variety show, Christmas Spectacular (Spec, for short) in the company of my parents.  I believe this year, the show is celebrating its 30th anniversary, and I have been there, either as a spectator or participant for 20 of the last 21 shows.  I have seen at least a dozen renditions of the Concord Singers' Fruitcake and even endured the one year that someone decided that Parade of the Wooden Soldiers had been done before and removed it from the show.  Of course it had been done before, but it's simply not Spec without Parade and it simply isn't Christmas without Spec.

Or the pilgrimage to Midnight Mass, where we have to be early so that we can hear the choir sing the prelude of Christmas carols and, more importantly, so that we can join our voices to the gathered congregation.

And, as I experienced last night, the absolute joy I find in turning off all of the house lights so that I can watch Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown by the lights of the Christmas tree while I recite the dialog word for word and "do do do" along with the animated cast to Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

And on Christmas day, when one person dons the elfin headgear to pass out presents, one at a time, while all of the family watches the receiver's joy of opening a gift and the giver is thanked with gratitude in front of the whole family.

And the post-dinner game of Rummy when things among family members get a little bit heated in the most friendly way (it isn't called Crap on your Neighbor for nothing).

These are the legacy of the Stinson family that I can't wait to pass along to the next generation while we wait to create our own holiday traditions that bridge the generations.

After 11 Years...

November 25th marked our 11th anniversary, and as I write this, I can see a framed photo from that day and marvel at how young we looked.  And how young we were.  And how right this was back then and how right it continues to be.

Last year, we took on the biggest physical challenge of our lives (to date).  The 500 Festival Mini-Marathon became a metaphor for our marriage.  We started out together, eager and optimistic.  As the walk continued, we allowed each other to set our own pace.  We were still in close proximity and shared encouraging smiles over the short distance.  We met back up at the most difficult part of the journey, the 2 1/2 mile trek around the Indianapolis Motor Speedway's banked track, and encouraged each other and talked to keep our minds off our hip and back pain.  Then, as I started to slow down, I demanded Troy continue on.  I wasn't confident of finishing and I refused to keep him from reaching his goal.  He went forward, but stopped occasionally and waited until I met up with him to make sure that I was still moving and to encourage me to continue on.  And as I came into sight of the finish line, there he was, pacing just short of the timing strip, waiting to take my hand so that we could finish together.

After 11 years...

Towers have fallen, unemployment has risen. 

Wars have begun and been promised to end. 

Elections have been contested and elections have been historic.

The Colts survived a run back of a kick off in a Super Bowl win and perished by an on-side kick in a Super Bowl loss. 

Friday Night Lights has come and gone.

And still we have each other.