When They Used to call it Christmas

Carson's Main Isle (Notions Dept.) 1958
Marshall Field's Main Isle 1941
Marshall Field's Toy Department 1949 Candy Cane Lane

Remember when the Christmas season used to be called the CHRISTMAS SEASON? Not the "holidays", semester break, winter break, blah, blah, blah. Come see the Macy's holiday tree!!! Oh wow, a holiday tree! What other holiday has a tree anyway? Where did we go wrong? When did it become offensive to say Christmas? Last time I checked, all the "holiday" festivities and traditions that we still do today came from the celebration of Christmas.
The Christmas season these days really is the holiday season. In retail land, it's generic, impersonal and without excitement. We have lost so much of the fantasy, opulence, grandeur, and reverence for Christmas. Do families still go downtown to view the decorated windows of the stores? Now that Carsons is gone from State Street, that leaves Marsh...gag...Macy's. Are we standing in line for hours to sit beneath the Martha Stewart Tree in the Walnut Room? Dressing up the kids to wander through the elaborate Christmas village erected to keep the kids happy while waiting to sit on Santa's knee in the Cozy Cloud Cottage? Afterwards, prouldly displaying the red button on their coats which told the world "I SAW FIELD's SANTA",then off to the Crystal Palace to reward the patient little ones with a scoop of ice cream? My kids remember visiting the Crystal Palace and if we were lucky, we would get a table by the window to view the skaters in the rink below. I'm sure that rink was a temporary fix (which lasted a few years)for the hole created by a demolished vintage building. But it sure beats the new glass and metal monolith that has since replaced the rink. You could ride the shiny brass door elevators run by uniformed elevator operators to the 5th, 6th, or 7th floors to view the main isle from above. The Main Isle of Marshall Field's and Carson Pirie Scott were decked out in displays magical and elaborate enough to rival the efforts of Disneyland. The gleaming mahogany display cases held everything you could imagine. And the toy departments were a sight to behold. Try getting that kind of thrill from the isles of Target or Toys R Us.
I recently found a wonderful book that revisits the wonder of Christmases past. It is an offering from Arcadia Publishing from their Images of America series. These books are an absolute treasure to those of us who remember and appreciate days gone by that truly were special. I selected just a few of the hundreds of wonderful photos included in Christmas on State Street 1940s and Beyond . Author, Robert P. Ledermann.


Photos reprinted with permission from Images of America Christmas On State Street 1940's And Beyond, by Robert P. Ledermann. Available from the publisher online at www.arcadiapublishing.com or by calling 888-313-2665.

P.S. I correct myself. The holiday tree that I referred to at Macy's, formerly Marshall Field's on State Street, is actually called, and I kid you not, The Centennial Great Tree, by Martha Stewart. PU-LEEEEZE!

Having Super Powers does not make you a Superhero

I have super powers. I have the ability to be in two places at the same time. Actually anybody can do this and I bet alot of people do. Trouble is it's not really a beneficial power to have because it often is a result of restlessness and/or dissatisfaction. I refuse to admit to the latter because I pride myself in being a positive minded, glass half full type of girl. (Please refrain from snickering here upon my use of "girl".) It is more like looking at life as it is and imagining your life, very vividly, in great detail, as it might be. Some of us do this because we are miserable with how life has been. (That is not me, thankfully!) Some of us do this because we learn about who we are, what we are good at, what we enjoy, slowly, over many years. (Yes, that is me.)
Trouble is, and it is a good trouble to have, I love too much of my life to throw it over to chase my imagined life. Lest you start wondering what type of perverse, alter ego nonsense I may be imagining, let me explain. I live in an Oak Park architectural gem, or 19th century downtown brownstone, work as an exhibit curator at the Chicago History Museum and have a vintage summer cottage somewhere on the shores of Lake Michigan. My family is here too because I would never give them up for anything. But they are grown, living nearby, leading their very interesting independent lives. They can visit the Lake Michigan cottage anytime they like. My hobby is collaborating with my very talented, film maker daughter on documentaries of historic architecture or Chicago history. I also think I would have been a great set decorator for period movies. Creating all of those minute details, some never really seen by the viewers but employed to give a sense of time and place to the story. (Explained beautifully by the directors commentary in Miss Pettigrew Lives for A Day I might add.)Also daughter #2 figures in some creative way which I don't know yet because she doesn't know yet! Too much like her mother I'm afraid.
But I digress, alot. Back to the super powers...
I guess this doesn't qualify me for superhero status, because nothing really heroic is achieved with these so called powers. Bummer because I think I could come up with a really great superhero outfit that would start with some amazing designer pumps that would be totally useless but look crazy good. A superhero in a little black dress.
Boy this really didn't end up where I thought it would. I was going to get all philosophical about blooming where you're planted, etc. I was really inspired by a friend who is sort of a mess right now, unhappy with alot of things. And I see where he could be, where he probably will be before long. After he shakes off the hurt (easy for me to say) and focuses on where he's going in spite of where he's been. I hope his learning curve is faster than mine because he is very talented and as I've always thought, destined for great things. And great things can be just about anything and anywhere but they start with and appreciation for who you are and the gifts you have been given and the responsibility we have not to squander them. As I always say, Use Your Powers For Good!

Christmas

I guess it has to happen eventually. Here sooner rather than later. What goes up, must come down. I'm referring to the annual chore of taking down the Christmas decorations. Luckily we can count on the occasional 60-80 degree day to get the outside down before a cold snap comes through. Cold as in windy and 30-40 degrees. Big wup right? But we Dallasites are conditioned to our climate and pull out the parkas (wait a minute, this is Dallas, we don the furs darling) when the thermometer dips below 50. The tree came down last. I just couldn't give up the beautiful glow that tree lent to the daily routine. I only put up half as much paraphenalia as I could have. Several boxes stayed in storage because I just dread the take down. I have enough gorgeous, one of a kind ornaments for two trees which I have done many times in years past. When the kids were little we always had a real tree. Dad insisted on it and yes, though it was a mess that he literally wrestled into its inadequate stand each year the scent was intoxicating. Granted it never seemed straight and it actually came crashing to the ground one year, thus obliterating several of those treasured ornaments I had spent a lifetime collecting. Now with the girls grown the real tree has become expendable and the elaborate schemes to produce a magical visit from Santa are over, sadly and thankfully. I keep telling myself, next year I will have the energy to do the whole shabang to the hilt once again. But realistically, we have quiet Christmases here, no extended family to celebrate with, to owe the obligatory holiday visit to, to have dropping by to eat up the four dozen decorated butter cookies that still sit mostly uneaten.
But I have lots of memories of Christmases past, near past and long past. I think of Christmases to come with the kids scattered to the four corners (which yes, I was the first one guilty of flight in my family. Payback is hell.) Will Christmases become more lonely and fractured? Will they feel the pull to come home or create their own traditions? Whether they are with me or their own families, I hope they feel the joy of creating memories of their own, feel the love of their family from Christmases past, know the joy that only this season brings if they remember that no matter how simple or elaborate they make it, what they do with love remains in the heart.

The Morning After

OK, it's finally over. And as far as I can tell the world is still turning on its axis, just tilted considerably more to the left. I am not happy but neither am I in the depths of despair. I bailed on the election coverage very early last night because I just couldn't take the agony. I got in bed with a good book and my dog. True comfort in any storm. At least I know there are still a good percentage of people in this country (at least 44%) that held out for the conservative candidate. They weren't swayed by charm and charisma and a multitude of lofty promises that were such the antithesis to Obama's proven record. But enough about that. This morning as I caught up on last night's events I saw pictures of crowds of people who took to the streets to await the results of the election. Finally an election that meant more to them than a World Series or Super Bowl win. And this is what I saw. Lots and lots of people, people who looked like they were from anywhere USA. A mix of faces, joyful faces, tearfilled faces. And my defeat didn't sting so badly. The part of this election that I can find comfort in is this moment in our shared American History that erased the notion that we are not equal. That there are two different worlds at work for the haves and the have nots. Can we see today that all men are equal? That in this great country opportunity DOES EXIST FOR ALL? Now do this Mr. Obama, worker of miracles, who has enjoyed all of the benefits offered by this great country, protect the most vulnerable in our society. Lead us down the path of light and hope for all of God's people. Protect the rights of the unborn. I pray for your conversion.

On the Eve of Destruction?

I write this on election eve. Never have I been so concerned, worried, afraid about the future of our country. It also has occurred to me that as I often fantasize about living in my beloved city by the lake, I realize that I would be the proverbial perch out of Lake Michigan water. What would a die-hard conservative be doing living in Chicago? As the city gears up for a day long celebration of all things Obama, I feel we ARE on the verge of true "CHANGE" and its not for the better. We shall see Wednesday morning, what is left of Grant Park. We shall see what is left of anyone who hasn't drunk the koolaid. We shall see what is left of our right to free speech, our right to bear arms, etc., etc. Enjoy the party thrown by hizzonor da mayor for his crony, BHO, but I think it's gonna come with one hell of a hangover.

The State of the Union Causes me to Ponder

My kids know me too well. A lifetime of growing up with a protective, way-conservative mother has conditioned my kids to sort of protect ME from life. They know I would prefer a world where only kind words are spoken, especially to children, everyone goes to church every Sunday, and no one takes unhealthy risks physically, spiritually, or emotionally. I am naive, always have been. That doesn't mean stupid, or clueless. I have a healthy dose of suspicion but that doesn't mean my probing questions are always answered truthfully. I want to think the best of the people I care about and that includes my kids and the kids they pal around with. My bubble has been burst on numerous occasions. It pains me to know that their language is peppered with majorly offensive four-letter-words. (Not around me mind you.) It pains me to know that once again, it is way-cool to smoke. It pains me to know that yes, alchohol and drugs cross their paths. And don't even ask me about sex. They know where I stand there. I've taught them since they were little to respect themselves and to value the gift of life. Marriage is sacred and intimacy is a great responsibility. (If they only knew what pains I've taken to be true to those values.)

They are more or less grown ups now. Willl they take all that I have given them and toss it aside, or take it to heart? That is the question that every parent asks themselves. I take pride believing that I have raised competent, intelligent, decent human beings. But of all of the things I've dreamed for my children, the one most important to me is the decent part. I want my kids to respect themselves and others as well. I want them to look at the world and people critically as well as lovingly. You can do both. In this anything goes world where the mere mention of the world judgemental sends people into a tizzy, I say we must be judgemental. If we're not, we have no standards and all behaviors and actions are equal. NO WAY. As my ethics guru Dennis Prager states, (and I paraphrase) "you can judge the actions/behaviours, you cannot judge a persons motives." But make no mistake, you will be judged, just not by me, or anyone else for that matter. We all however will face the Ultimate Judge.

So when I start ranting about offensive movies, tv, or song lyrics my kids automatically know exactly where I'm going. They have heard it a million times and would rather not hear it again. I just can't help myself. Our culture is rotting away and our kids have been immersed in it for so long that they are desensitized. I just pray that the contribution that my children make to this world will lift it up. I pray that our world will be a little bit better because they were in it. When it comes to using their God given talents in this world I tell them "Use Your POWERS for GOOD"!

Well, I just spent a week in my favorite city and it just wasn't enough. I often wonder if it would have such a hold on me if I lived it on a daily basis. Probably not. I didn't get to The Lake, didn't make it all the way up the Magnificent Mile, spent a whole week there and felt cheated. Got to spend time with Dad, very good, and he very much appreciated it. Spent an evening revisiting my childhood with classmates from the SKS (St. Kieran School) class of '73.

Who in their right minds would bother to take the time to reconnect with their elementary school classmates you ask?! More than half of a class of 57, that's who! We came from nine different states to relive the best days of our childhood. We started the evening with mass in a church building that didn't even exist until more than ten years after we were gone. We honored those who have passed. We told stories, secrets, and probably several tall tales. We passed hour upon hour reminiscing. Astonished that a tale so vividly remembered by one, was totally forgotten by another. Lots of selective remembering and forgetting! Crazy teachers, classroom high jinx, first crushes, slumber parties remembered, playground torments regretted. Acknowledgement that apologies were due to kids not treated terribly well.

Our greatest accomplishment: we grew up. Many with college age children, grandchildren, and even sadly, children lost. Marriages, remarriages, and yes even "partnerships". That wasn't even in the vocabulary back in '73.

We had so much fun, we promised to do it again soon. We really missed those of you that didn't come. You probably weren't the least bit interested, or curious as the rest of us. Or maybe you still felt the sting of hurtful words, childish mistreatments, the loneliness of being different. Its amazing how time heals. Generous hearts recognize the good and forgive the bad. We recognized that the community that we were once a part of, built mostly by the choices of our parents, partly by chance, was for the most part, good. God bless you all, thanks for the memories.