A Christmas Parade

I looked into the eyes of parents and children one Saturday night during Linden’s Christmas Parade.  Some were screaming in anticipation of candy, beads, or a T-shirt.  Some were downright ugly in their pleas for these condiments of Christmas.

Santa and his little helper tossed beads, candy, pencils, T-shirts, and stuffed animals toward what are normally, upstanding citizens, of the hamlet of West Alabama.  Mixed with the screams for objects of Christmas cheer were the occasional shout about the reality of jolly fat man dressed in red and white atop the fire engine.

There in the crowd was a mother snatching the gift from her son and a dad holding a small child that was too timid to scream at those on the parade floats.  Scuffling boys competed for pencils and beads as police and volunteers directed traffic insuring that everyone had opportunity to get the simple gifts dispersed by Old Saint Nick and his small assistant.

It is said that the Christmas season brings out the best in people.  I saw that disappear for a few moments in the parade.  The debacle of momentary insanity on the crowded sidewalks of downtown is akin to catfish in a pond at feeding time.  Everyone is grabbing for penny ante candy and cheap beads.  Santa had to instruct a man that the purple hippo tossed to a small, shy little girl was her's, not him.  He looked miffed, but the joy the little girl gave through her smile was priceless.  Santa had tossed her a stuffed animal.

I have to ask the question why do people act so bizarre at events such as parades.  As I took my early morning walk the following morning, beads, various hard candies, and wrappers desecrated the streets that were decorated for Christmas.  Gone were the vendors, most of the rides, the laughter, and the excitement.  Now, the hum of a generator stirred the morning fog.  Linden looked like a desolate place.  Pieces of dropped and discarded food were now the property of ants and other assorted insects collecting for the approaching storm.  Dogs, cats, and many other varmints feasted on the waste of having a good time and celebrating Christmas.

I suppose that Bethlehem was like that the morning that Jesus lay in the manger.  The night before was bustling with excitement.  People from distant lands returned home to complete the census for the Roman government.  I wonder who my ancient counterpart was the morning after the Shepherds and the Heavenly host had visited the place where the Messiah was born.  I wonder what sounds hummed that morning and if Bethlehem looked like a deserted place.

I am inclined to think that very little changed that morning in Bethlehem, but I am sure that the Shepherds did more than hum.  They were witnesses to the birth of the King of kings and Lord of lords.

Lots of hard work goes into hosting a parade and I am thankful to live in a town, county, and country where we have parades celebrating magnificent moments in our being.  My prayer is that God’s people share the true meaning of magnificent moments to a world that wants and settles for hangouts.

The look in the eyes of spectators is haunting.  Screaming, pushing, and shoving for what the poet A. E. Houseman termed “endless rue” is the nature of society.  The real purpose of the parade is priceless.  God gave us Himself.

But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son (Galatians 4:4a KJV).

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger (Luke 2:11-12 KJV).

Remember in a time where fear and anxiety rule, God remains King of kings and Lord of lords.  Candy, beads, and things are the condiments of Christmas.  Jesus is the true gift of hope and peace.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

That First Christmas

Christmas is a costly time.  It cost God everything.  When all the hoopla, all the sales, all the parties, and all the family are gone, Christmas becomes memory.  My memories about Christmas are different from most people.  The Hopper Christmas was not about presents, but about time together, momma’s cooking, daddy’s being Scrooge, and no school.

I do not remember my first Christmas.  I was twelve days old.  The first Christmas I remember was when I was four.  It was cold, snow flurries, and the wind was blowing as daddy too me to the Bijou, an old movie house.  Every time I watch It’s A Wonder Life, I have a flashback to the Bijou.  If you remember George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) running down the street in the snow yelling at the Bijou.  It was my first encounter with The Three Stooges, pizza, and salami.  It was in Beloit, Illinois/Wisconsin. 

Beloit was on the state line.  Dad worked in Wisconsin and we lived a few blocks away in Illinois.  No, I am not a Yankee, I was born in Clanton, but when we moved daddy worked at the Beloit Iron Works.  My brother David is the Yankee and now you know why I saw snow.  I walked to school in the snow, had a snowsuit, had snow gloves, and snow boots.

After the Three Stooges movie, each boy and girl received a Christmas present.  I never had seen that many presents before.  It was the first time I remember seeing a Santa Claus and he was very intimidating for a shy, small Alabama boy.  Each boy and girl sat on Santa’s knee to get his or her presents.  My first encounter was quick.  I did not know what to make of a man in a red suit with a long white hair and a beard.

The fact was that each of the employees of Beloit Iron Works contributed money to the company which bought each boy and each girl presents.  I did not know any better.  I was unfamiliar with the whole Santa Claus thing.

When we moved back to the poverty of Alabama, Christmas was never the same.  In rural Chilton County, there was no Bijou, no pizza, and no salami.  It would be years before I saw the Three Stooges.  I would be out of high school before a Pasquales’ Pizza would open thirty miles from home and stores would sell salami.

Each Christmas dad would be on layoff, Christmas shutdown, or unemployed.  There would be no money for food, much less for presents.  We stopped going to visit cousins. They got lots of neat things that we were not allowed to touch.  Aunts and uncles instructed our cousins to hide their toys until the Hoppers left.

Mom and dad stayed on edge during Christmas.  Mom wanted to decorate the house and dad would get depressed and start acting worse than Scrooge.  Even though not a Christian, he would say that Christmas is about the birth of God’s son, not about all the hoopla that people make it to be.

Every year something always made Christmas hoopla diminish.  During the Christmas season, I have repaired a slipping transmission, replaced a blowout tire, replaced a broken fuel pump, and replaced deteriorated disc brake pads.  At other times, things would happen like the dyer element burning out, the pickup engine blowing up, and the well pump going bad.

There would be the unexpected hospital stay for cancer that would days later take mom’s life.  There would Christmas Day emergency room visit for stitches to my son Aaron’s mouth where he tried to run through a barbed wire fence.  Trips to therapy for a bulging disc caused from the stress of layoff, mother dying with cancer, no insurance, and college tuition for upcoming term due.

The first Christmas without dad was tough and the first one without mom was real tough.  The first Christmas with my oldest son Andy was exciting.  He was almost a year old and was happy playing in a box of Christmas paper.  The one with my daughter Angela was challenging.  She was three months old and had colic.  The one with Aaron was special.  He was seven months old and was fun to watch.

One Christmas after graduating high school I bought dad a unique shotgun, a collector’s item the first year he owned it, mom an electric guitar, my sister a beauty salon style hairdryer that looked like a giant hornet nest, one brother a cassette player, and the other brother a starter guitar.

When imagining Joseph and Mary’s first Christmas, today’s hoopla misses the point.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.  And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.  And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger (Luke 2:13-16 KJV)

Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

Every time I see the Christmas picture of my baby brother and myself, I remember that Christmas morning as though it were yesterday.  There we are in our worn-out t-shirts and grinning.  My baby brother Glenn he is seven and I am fifteen.  We are holding our Christmas presents.  Mom had told us that we would not be getting very much that year.  I am holding a little wooden box that contains a red corncob.  The outside reads, “Emergency toilet paper.”  I lost that present in the house fire.  I had it in a hope chest in the attic.  Mom had promised me a car that year.  I was holding it too.  It was a tiny matchbox car.

Momma got a big kick out of the gifts.  I know you might be thinking that was her gag gift, but that was really my Christmas present that year.  I told momma that she did not have to get me a present but make sure my brothers and sisters got something under the tree.  I knew that it was only a temporary setback in the Hopper family because some years momma was able to get us some nice gifts.

I remember staying up late one Christmas waiting on Old Saint Nick to come.  I know that momma and daddy must have wondered if we would ever go to sleep.  When we did, it seemed as only a moment when we went running into the living room to find Huffy bicycles under the tree.

About the time I was getting the corncob is about the time I realized that momma would go deep into debt to buy Christmas and spend (no pun intended) the next 365 days paying for that magical morning.  I knew that we did not have the money to buy presents.  We had what money cannot buy and that was love for each other.

Momma accused daddy of being Scrooge.  I realized later that he was not a Scrooge but was actually a Bob Cratchic.  Bob was the one that worked for Scrooge in the movie, A Christmas Carol.  Right now, I am playing the Ghost of Christmas past as I write.  I used to warn my kids every year that I think I feel a Scrooge moment about to come upon me when we go Christmas shopping.

I remember momma crying at Christmas from time to time.  She wanted so much to have a nice home filled with Christmas decorations.  My wife Lisa has a theme-oriented Christmas tree in every room.  For mom, we had to find her a cedar tree that looked like a Christmas tree.  She would decorate it with balls, ribbons, silver icicles, strings of popcorn, and other junk as dad would say.

Momma and my sister kept the house so hot with the one gas space heater that daddy, my brothers, and I stayed outside most of the time.  When momma started decorating the house, we all stayed outside even more.  That is a tradition that I carry on today.  When Lisa starts decorating the house I go outside and stay.  My job during Thanksgiving season is to retrieve all the Christmas junk and place it in the specific place I am instructed to stack it.

I fetch hammers, nails, wire, and other paraphernalia, but quickly exit the house when fulfilling my Christmas obligations.  I could care less about a tree.  I have an official “Charlie Brown tree” in my office.

I had a brilliant moment of inspiration idea several years ago.  My office chair collapsed while I was leaning sideways.  The office chair was rated for a two hundred fifty pound man.  Since I weigh more than that, I had stressed the designer’s recommended specifications, which resulted in an office chair failure.  I tried on several occasions to repair the chair, but the aluminum alloy frame holding the shattered like a broken eggshell.  The seat and the wheels were good.

Led by Pam’s (former secretary), stroke of genius of wanting a Christmas tree on wheels, I mounted the office chair wheels to the bottom of a Christmas tree.  To say the least, when I proudly presented my latest invention, but Christmas Tree Purist were not impressed.  Most said it made the tree too high.  There were some references to my rigging, but I won’t go there.  Well, it wasn’t too high.  The base of the five wheeled office chair allowed the tree to stand lower than the tree stand.

Ignoring the critics, I rolled it into the living room.  When my oldest son the interior designer arrived on Thanksgiving eve, I showed him my invention.  He said that when he decorates for businesses and large corporations for Christmas that their large Christmas trees are mounted on wheels to make decorating easier.  With Andy’s seal of approval, all was well.  There is peace on Earth that Christmas, I mean in the Hopper household.  I wondered if I should get a patent.  I know that it won’t be long until another office chair failure.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.  And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.  And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger Luke 2:13-16 KJV

May the Peace of God be with you and your household.

"Just My Imagination Running Away With Me"

As a kid, I imagined that one day I would be far, far away from home during Christmas.  I do not know why I had that feeling other than it is reminiscent of some Christmas movie I watched or some tale I heard.  I often imagined that I would be returning from a war and that I would surprise mom and dad by arriving on a snowy Christmas morn.  Hey, I know it is Alabama and snow on Christmas morning would be imaginary, but remember it is my imagination and I did live in Illinois when I was in my formative years.

I think that poverty and alienation were two factors in having this Romanized fantasy.  It was a way of taking a dire situation and having hope when dealing with hopeless circumstances.

I could see myself, in uniform and duffle bag tossed across my shoulder, making my way to the old home place in Sugar Ridge.  When I watch a movie that has elements of my imaginary thoughts, tears seep from my eyes.  Part of that emotion roots in the reality that mom and dad are long gone and there will be no return home to them.  The old place lies in ruin and decay.  Rotting boards, a collapsing roof, and consuming vine tarnish memories of what was once a place of life and festivity.  Now, that place I once longed is reserved for the place of memories and mind's eye.

It only comes to life only when I write articles or tell of something that happened related to some spiritual truth I found or experienced.  Ever once and a while, I dream of returning to an old job or going back home.  It seems as though I cannot get to where I need to be.  Something or someone usually interrupts my efforts to get to my destination.  In my dream, no one seems to care that I am struggling to be at the appointed place and time.  Like some character in Alice in Wonderland, I’m late, I’m late . . .  About the time I dream that I am about to reach my destination I wakeup.

Dream interpretation says that I am struggling to reach a goal and I am frustrated because I cannot reach it.  I think that I am longing for things to be as they were in the past and trying to make restitution for past mistakes and blunders.

There are some things in the past that I would like to see again, but there is so much in the past that I am thankful is behind me.  One reason I would never like to start over again is that too hard the first time and I do not want to repeat the process.

Christmas past uproots too many unpleasant memories of having no gifts under the tree, too many weeks of dad being on layoff, and too many memories of momma crying because things were bleak, drowning out the few precious moments of Christmas past.

We look at the past and become nostalgic, we look at the present and become disillusioned, and we look at the future and become anxious.  We know what we have done in the past and we can learn, grow, and make adjustments.  We are in the process of living today because of the experience of the past and the anticipation of the future.  The future will bring new challenges along with new opportunities.

My imaginations are almost exclusively in the past, but at the same time, they are always something that I think is going to happen in the future.  Ironically, most of the places that I dream I am running late do not exist physically any longer.  They exist exclusively in my dreams and memory.

Life is short, but also funny.  Six years at this time, I was looking forward to 2013.  The number 13 is my favorite number and I just knew that it would a wonderful year.  As of today, it has not been as I had anticipated.  It has been as my dreams.  I’m trying to be somewhere and not able to get there.  There were many good events for 2013, but there was plenty in which to mourn.

I pray that as my day, Friday the 13^th  2019, comes, it will be a good day because it will be another day that the Lord has given to me.  That gives twelve days to Christmas and nineteen days to a new year.

As 2019 becomes the past, I pray we leave it behind and look forward to the journey the Lord has prepared for us.  God is always on time.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven Ecclesiastes 3:1

Remember how short my time is Psalm 89:47

But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son (Galatians 4:4a)

Merry Christmas from the Hoppers