Christmas Eve Eve, Year Two Success (Puzzled in America)

Year two.

Last Christmas Eve Eve, Tunga bought a giant roller coster we had to figure out and put together, and this year we opted for a giant puzzle for Chitunga's dorm room. We all collaborated - even Casey - who grew frustrated, but seem to revive at exactly the right time.

After school, after day care, and after Red Robin, we spread out on the kitchen table and, four hours later, completed the puzzle.

OCD? Um, maybe just a little.

I laugh that we all have the same trait - that is: determination, focus, aggravation, and drive.

The puzzle is pretty cool, too. Actually, it was in a box with multiple puzzles and there's many more to be be assembled. Tunga wanted the America one, so we began with that one first. We also have a NYC and an Italy landscape. There's a gift for Nikki, too, if we get to assemble it (it's only 100 pieces, so it might be easier).

Ah, today is Christmas Eve - the big day for the Crandall, Barnwell, Isgar gathering in Cicero. Our burgers were great, Casey's service sucked, and the Barnwell lights are awesome glittering in the tree and upon the house.

I love a good evening of focused time when we can find a result in the hard labor. Success! Year two!

Before The Eve, A Family Script (Need More Be Said?

So, Our The Days of Our Lives

(a real-life texted script)

(In Stratford, while Chitunga is upstairs getting his clothes packed, Bryan is downstairs in his living room sipping coffee and looking at his tree before heading out town. Suddenly, his phone buzzes)

Mom: Was just going to message you to see what the plan was, but decided to check the blog first and that answered my question.  Your father has a 2:45 doctor's appt.  dinner here, or are you going to Manlius?

Bryan Ripley Crandall: Amalfi Drive tonight...everything else we will plan once there

Kc: Safe travels. Boys are hoping you stay over Friday night

Mike: no he's staying over are house on friday 😂 haha

Kc: If that's what you want

Mike: no you have him friday haha i'm such a ass but i don't care haha

Kc: Why we love you Mike. No no you said you wanted them

Nikki: You all could visit me as I space myself at the mall. I'll be there 2-11:30

Mike: maybe i'll stop in on you. Nikki I walk by and waved to you

Nikki: I didn't see you 

Dave: Maybe one of you knuckleheads will come visit me at work tonight... (by the way, Chitunga read the texts and this is the one that caught his attention. Hey, I want to visit Dave at work.

Kc: Bring you a growler

Dave: Sweet!🍻🍻

Mike: sorry Dave can't do it Giants are playing tonight

Dave: Always an excuse

Kc: At least I'll take care of you

Nikki: No one takes care of me 

Dave: No thanksgiving no work what's next no x mas 

Bryan: Chitunga's sleeping with Mike tonight after drinking a growler at Dave's work and ignoring Nikki's long shift, while Cynde and I are going ice skating with Mimi and Butch.

Dave: 😥

Kc: What about me

Bryan: And Casey does cartwheels in an orange sweater

Cynderballz: While drinking whisky

Bryan: (Let me finish)

Kc: Whole bottle 

Bryan: Fa la la la la la la la la

Dave: Weeeeee!

Mike: see nikki no one loves us

Cynderballz: Lol

Mike: but what about Tim

Nikki: I know we only get two days a year on our birthdays 

Bryan: Tunga loves you. That's why he's sleeping with you tonight. Tim will visit Nikki

Nikki: So that leaves nikki and dylan ignored 

Dave: Tim better be there!! Just Nikki

Nikki: Tim is on call 

Bryan: Yeah, Dylan's watching all the dogs

Cynderballz: Omg guys leave some conversation for sat

Dave: Typical Isgar excuse..... working Lol

Nikki: Hey we are poor people we need to make money when we can

Mike: oh I can see this is going to be a happy Christmas with kc in her Orange shirt

Bryan: Nikki has to work Saturday.

Dave: Of course she is an Isgar

Mike: yes and I have to work as well and bring Nikki home

Nikki: The party won't start until we get there 

Bryan: Um, where's mom on all this? Giving Papi another enema?

Nikki: God I hope not

Mike: Tim phone # 315-xxx-xxxx blast his phone haha

Mom: Mom is trying to win a game of Solitaire but your messages keep interrupting my game......lol!

Bryan: (And that is the punchline....she wins! End of story)

We'll Be Home For Christmas, You Can Count On Us

I'm not sure if I've ever been more ready for a break and short trip away from the grind. I am simply fried. Last night, we power cleaned the house (always love to come home to a ready to move-in home), wrapped and put together the gifts, and got them closer for the departure. They are now under the tree ready to be packed.

We walked small gifts over to all the neighbors (blueberry cobbler and vanilla bean gelato) and drove up to Monroe to watch the UK/UL game (Go Cards! What a game....two powerhouses there - the defense of both teams is incredible). We also tired Glamis out.

Yesterday morning was spent finishing up grading, wrapping up meetings, and aligning all the projects that need to be dealt with on the 28th, when we return.

And so, we finished out the week looking at the lights, anticipating the gifts, ready for the chaos, and anxious to be in holiday mode.

By the time you read this, chances are we will be packing to be on the road. Chitunga got the day off and we decided to get up (naturally) and head out soon after. I've downloaded my radio programs, put together a laundry basket of possible clothes to wear, and will try to fit everything in the Hulk. This is the first of two trips to Syracuse this winter - the next one will be to move Chitunga into his dorm.

Ah, but this just in! Edem got a job in Connecticut that begins January 12th, so he'll be moving down to live on Mt. Pleasant. Never a dull moment.

And I heard from the Amagansett 'lives. They're already in for Thanksgiving, 2017. They made their reservation through the mail.

Over the river, and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go!

Just Crazy. Simply Crazy. Beautiful Crazy. Awful Crazy. Fortunate Crazy.

I quoted Chinua Achebe the other day in a tribute to Brian,

"Sometimes things fall apart, so that better things can fall together" ~Chinua Achebe.

 It may be strange, but the event has created a spark and I've heard from several students from that time that I've been wondering about for almost a decade. These were kids who were Brian's friends and who I thought the world of, too...

...they just disappeared.

Last night I heard from a kid I nicknamed Squid (to my Frog). He was a writer and inked up the page like no other, and although I knew he was heading outside NYC for college, I lost touch with him in 2009. Last night he called to fill me in and catch me up on his story.

I was able to fill him in on my own.

We chatted Brown School, tattoos, predictions and realities (and I wonder how many students of yesteryear actually went through with tattoos of the nicknames I gave them in high school - eeks). We talked adult life, about Brian, about what comes next, and what we missed most.

It's so strange catching up with people from yesteryear. I was thinking about my life after Kentucky and how the last nine years delivered a lot of life-changing-life: time with my family, Abu and Lossine, Chitunga, a doctorate, Glamis, now life in Connecticut. It seems crazy to think about my world of high school teaching in Louisville and where the evolution has taken me since.

But (**blink**) it was yesterday. My last memories of KY were with this particular class, who I left in 2007 and who graduated in 2008. Alice says, "Of all the classes I've ever taught, they had the oldest souls. I almost forgot that they were teenagers."

Brian's death is unwrapping a lot of items that I tucked away and put to the side. It is doing the same for them.

As I told Squid last night, "Man, it's hard to imagine that I was part of such a beautiful location like the Brown School. Pre-Snap Chat, Pre-Twitter, Pre-Facebook. Yes, we had cell phones, but they weren't very smart. We sent basic texts. Now, the world's reality is all over the place. And the Brown School was Nirvana. We knew that then. We know that now."

And I started thinking about their generation. They've experienced it all, and I wonder what is still to come.

Ah, but catching up with Squid is a wish I've been making for some time. I'm so glad to hear where he is, what he's up to, what his challenges have been, and what his worries still are.

Man, conversations like that make me really miss teaching high school. The reunions...years later...show me how important high school teaching is. It is doubtful I will ever have the impact on college students like I did the Brown School kids.

It is something. And I am thankful.

Perhaps I'm Not As Funny As I Think I Am, But I Try

My good friends at the National Writing Project sent out a beautiful holiday greeting yesterday with a wonderful note of inspiration and good cheer. I love my NWP people and they keep me the most centered and sane of any professional group that I work with.

It takes a NWP person to understand the power and necessity of National Writing Project work. We aren't like other educators and so much of our work is in the service of K-16 educators in support of their leadership.

As their card came in, I couldn't help but reply with a great quote, Everlasting your light will shine when everything else fades. Yes, it sounds like Yoda wrote it, but then I found the other quote by Jack Doom (1966), "Creativity is 80% Bourbon and 20% ice." It cracked me up.

I was given a bottle of Woodford Reserves for the holidays, but I haven't found the time to open it. I was also given a bottle of Knob's Creek, which is still in the wrapper. I have come to bourbon drinking late in life, but I definitely have acquired a taste for it.

I will save these gifts, as I'm too tired and sick to actual imbue in such festivity...yet. I wanted to post today about a happy dance that my grading is finally done, but I have four more to go (and this assumes that the student work will arrive...for whatever reason, it hasn't come in and I haven't heard from them). All else was finished at 11 o'clock last night.

I am being honest when I say I am absolutely, with 110% of my being, fried this semester. I've always been able to handle a lot and have proven myself in extreme circumstances. This year, however, it simply is too much and I know my limits.

But, as evident of my card above, I still have my sense of humor and that matters most.

Someone told me Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat. Funny, I feel like I'm the one getting fat with all this writing and grading. Am I a goose?

A Birthday Note from Joseph Mascolo To My Mom, Sue

Dear Sudy-Rip,

I wrote this note before my death earlier this year and sent it to your son, Bryan, in Stratford, to be delivered to you on your birthday.

I know. I know. Many dedicated viewers probably think I will rise again, like a Phoenix, and return to the show to reek more havoc and to...

...well...

finally let Marlena knowit was never her who was the desire of all my malpractices. No, truth be told, I never was romantically interested her Roman-loving, psychiatric ass.

No, Sudy Rip. It was you. It's always been you. And everything I did  (As the sand in the hour glass, so our the Days of our Lives) was intentional to win your awe, your gaze, your undivided attention, and your heart.

And now, looking from above, I can say it remains only you (although I do have a slight crush on Stephanie Caroli, as well, but you know what they say: "too much Italian overcooks the spaghetti," if you know what I mean. Besides, I knew better than to mess with Big Pete. Butch, on the other hand? He was nothing I couldn't handle). No, it's always been you...you were the love of my life.

Oh, Sue. How I hated leaving you before I could confess to the entire NBC network that my nefarious loins always thought of YOU, and ONLY YOU. You were the best lover I have ever had and the one I desired most. My children and grandchildren Andre', Chad, Johny, Steven, Sydney, Theo, and Thomas would have been so much better with you in their lives, but you refused me. And I know, too, that Sami and EJ who almost did me in by draining my Italian assets, would have benefited if only I made the move from Salem to Clay and begged at your feet for you take care of me. I always doubted, though, that you'd take me in.

Yes, Sudy Rip, I will miss you most. I can not forget the time you slapped me across the face after I shot Roman Brady in the Caribbean, even as Bo cradled his brother in his arms. Sure, I kidnapped him for a few years, but you didn't want to forgive me. I'm telling you, Sue, all the choices I made in my life did for you. Dr. Marlena Brady's exorcism, Patch, the whole shebang was in your honor. I swear. It was always the result from my frustration that you denied me.

I do hope that you'll hang a Christmas ornament on your daughter's tree this year in my honor as Alice Horton would have done. I know your family will reconvene in Cicero (and I hope you'll prepare whiskey for the youngest daughter of yours and buy her an orange sweater).

Yes, it's been a long ride since 1965, but you have been loyal since the beginning: the Salem strangler, Bo and Hope's wedding, the weird, short-lived romance of Calliope and Eugene, and  Sammy's strange appearances on America's Biggest Loser. 

Convoluted, yes, but after so many years — and so many deaths, faked, temporary, and real — it was a relief to Days viewers to finally get any explanation for why Stefano DiMera has always been so obsessed with causing pain to the Brady family. Turns out Brady aunt Colleen, sister of patriarch Shawn Sr., had many years ago fallen in love with Stefano’s father Santo, in Ireland, with her younger brother Shawn and Stefano spending time together as pals. But when Colleen, who’d been planning to become a nun, got serious with Santo, Stefano revealed to Shawn that Santo’s wife was still alive — he’d told Colleen she was dead. Colleen, heartbroken, pregnant, and not wanting to bring shame to her family, faked her death so Santo could honor his commitment to his family, but he was so heartbroken over the loss of her that he became a bitter, nasty man who made the rest of Stefano’s childhood a misery. Stefano blamed the Bradys for the whole scenario, and many a nefarious plot was born from his need for retribution. Colleen, played by Partridge Family mom Shirley Jones, revealed to her family in 2008 that she’s given birth to Santo’s son and put him in an orphanage, which led John Black to briefly, mistakenly believe he was Colleen and Santo’s offspring.

Imagine now if America's viewers actually had the opportunity to learn the real behind-the-scenes story of my life for you and how it involves the Ripleys and Crandalls. The real truth is I tried to sweep you off your feet, take you to Indonesia, and propose to you by placing one of my million dollar rings onto one of your spectacular, beautiful toes.

But no. You opted to stay with Butch. "My kids, Stefano," you said. "I can't leave them. I just can't," you said as you pulled away from one of my passionate kisses. You devastated me. You said, "And Stephanie won't leave Pete, either. She's got three kids of her own, and a lot of responsibilities to her students at St. Rose of Lima in North Syracuse."

You made me feel like Hope did when I suspended her above an acid vat. You made my heart ache, like when Bo and Hope's son Zach was run over by a teenager who was texting while driving. You have no idea how much I have cried.

Oh, Sue. You may deny me your heart, but you can't deny me this...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! 2016!

Although I'm not able to be with you, I'm sending you a bag of wise potato chips, some bridge mix, a diet coke, and a huge hug. You may have denied my love, Sue...but be grateful you have so much love from your friends and family.

(note: any incorrect references to Days is the fault of the owner of this Blog and his terrible investigative skills to recall major events on the show)

And She Was Finally Delivered. Winifred is With Her Dad Now

I've wanted to post about this for weeks, but had to be shy because it was a gift and I didn't want it to leak out. A few weeks ago, I found the Clearance Item of all Clearance Items. It was an antelope skull that was on sale from $490 to $14, and I got it at Pier One. I knew I had to have it because it was the ultimate bargain and, I have to admit that it caught my eye because it was a skull (and ridiculous) and I immediately thought of Patrick Kelly. The fact that it was on mega-sale was a bonus.

So, Winifred was purchased and has been sitting beautifully with my Christmas decorations adoring the center of my dining room table. I finally wrapped her yesterday afternoon, and last evening, she was delivered to Patrick's home.

He loved it. Winifred was immediately moved to the bar and sat on the mantel next to all the bourbons. It was like she was born to be there, and I knew (well, maybe Patrick knew) that there is a Santa Clause after all.

Of course, Pam screamed, "That thing is not staying in my house," but I think her beauty in person one her over. The shimmer of her cheekbones, the depth of those eye sockets, the Georgia O'Keefe nature of the snout, and those horns...those long, luxurious, reaching-to-the-stars horns.

I am a frugal man, and I do believe that I scored the Taj Mahal with this purchase. I thought my Crandall chair was a find, but Winifred. Ah, man, Winifred. I will be passionately celebrating her forever.