This is my “busy” season, decorating homes for Christmas, so I’ve had our gifts bought and wrapped and Christmas cards done by Thanksgiving. But the one thing I have been patiently waiting for is the Santa letter I receive from my grand-nephew each year. Because… I am Santa.
Finally it arrived! Henry, who is seven, asks before any requests for gifts, how I (Santa) am doing? And of course he wanted to know about Mrs. Claus and the elves. He was concerned if the reindeer were eating enough carrots and moves on to his list. Henry then ends the letter with “You are the BEST person in the world!” Man, I now have a huge responsibility to this little human to uphold that adjective.
I need to BE Santa,
walk in his boots and
get in that
white-bearded head…
Besides the list of his accomplishments and the year’s highlights, Henry’s two page letter contained a statement that I chose to center my response around:
“I don’t know how you get to every single child in one night!”
Am I up for the task of explaining this? It’s a query that has intrigued the masses for a millennium? I explain that there is something magical about the night before Christmas which allows ‘me’ to visit each and every child. I write “Remember dear Henry, even though you can’t see it or understand it, that doesn’t mean – the magic – doesn’t exist.”
And then I begin to think…
If it were only that simple for adults, we question, doubt, and analyze the miracles around us. We’ve lost the sparkle I just saw in the eyes of two young boys as they ran into the arms of the Santa in the Home Depot parking lot. They didn’t care how he got there; just that he was there, in a parking lot, in their neighborhood, on a lawn chair.
When did we lose the belief in the unbelievable; the joy in seeing the sparkle of good in others? Have we forgotten the simple act of lifting people up – like little Henry did in his letter?
“I like Dathan’s voice
I like Mason’s cool attitude
I like Rosalia’s teaching
I like that Druv likes ninjas
I like Leah’s tallness”
Can our sparkle return? What if we look for the good, the special, and the ‘tallness’ in our family, neighbors or strangers?
Will it take a miracle to have a ‘cool attitude’, be less suspicious, less negative and less selfish?
Even if you don’t believe in this Christian holiday, you’ve got to admit, that this one day seems to be somehow magical; it brings people together to celebrate something other than themselves. It’s sort of miracle that causes a spark. That can turn into a sparkle. Then BAM – we’re looking for the good and leaving the negative behind.
So dear Henry keep that sparkle, spread it around. Someday I hope you will realize that all the good you see is really the miracle that Santa and Christmas are all about!
a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood.
Synonyms: prevarication, falsification.
Antonyms: truth.
Lies
Lies – we’ve all told them.
We started when we were toddlers, touching things we shouldn’t – we were scolded in an attempt to stop us. We did it when we were children, tipping over the lamp and claiming we had no idea how it happened – we were sent to our rooms. We did it as teens, going to parties after the big game – we were grounded. Then in our twenties, making up stories why we were late again for work – we were written up. We did it in our thirties, but consequences became more serious – we lost our jobs, our marriages, or our savings. In our forties we weighed out the loss vs. gain, from lying, but still gambled the lie would be worth it. In our fifties we began to see the value of telling the truth and recognized the drama lying brings. Our sixties brought the revelation — it’s just easier to tell the truth!
TELL THE TRUTH…
Wouldn’t it just be EASIER?
I get it; we lie to protect ourselves, to keep from hurting others, to cover up an addiction, to be someone we’re not, to impress, to hurt, and to hide the truth. Oh and let’s not forget it’s also done for greed.
And while it feels I can’t escape the lies, I sit and wonder where the truth can be found?
We used to think the printed newspaper held the truth and news reporters too. And encyclopedias held the truth or even the internet. Or believed doctors and drug companies and the FDA told the truth. We believed the people we elected looked out for our needs and that of the country. “Used to” being the key words here…
It’s near impossible to believe the written word, or the spoken word, or the reported word. I examine everything I see or read as if it has been edited, photo shopped, cropped or twisted to mean something else. I question advertisements, commercials and billboards. For every story that is reported there is a rebuttal on another station. Every article written there is a fact-checking site to question the validity. For every speech given, there is a YouTube video showing a contradictory speech. Then there’s Facebook and social media which just exasperates the lies. Instead of a grain, I’d like the whole truth.
Is it just me or does it feel as if the truth we were once taught as a child has been substituted by the much easier path of lying? Lying has become the norm and has added an extra layer of stress to everyone’s life. The fact-checking and researching is exhausting and time-consuming! I think as a society we’ve become numb to the lies and accept it as the new standard.
A few of my requests…
Please admit that the eggs I buy from free-range chickens are not free-range at all.
Explain why you have to add crap to my milk, fish and meat.
Share with us why you have to spray our fruits and vegetables with poison in the name of progress, when you could charge more by producing them organically. Check the prices out at the grocery – organics definitely cost more money.
Dear Government, say you’re sorry for having an ego that prevents you from voting in sensible legislation.
And replace the money that’s been paid into Social Security – it was not yours to use.
Apologize for holding sports figures and actors at a higher level than the individuals who volunteered to protect their freedom so they can do their well-paid thing.
Stop lying and generalizing that everyone is evil, or racist, or homophobic.
Please tell the truth in advertising, in news reporting, in article writing, and in food production.
Stop lying to get on the news – it’s annoying.
Don’t promote a pharmaceutical if a natural cure has been found to work.
And big corporations, who know their crap is going to hurt us, find another business to invest in – please?
I know someone, somewhere still tells the truth – hopefully those would be my children – but I’m talking about people who we have hired to legislate for us, people who we have hired to grow our food, and people who we have hired to take care of our health or report our news.
We are their employers; we pay their salaries, why do we keep hiring dishonest people? Are we just lying to ourselves?
A few months ago my husband and I went downtown L.A. to watch our brother-in-law perform a death defying feat for charity, rappelling 26-stories down the side of a hotel — more about that later.
26 Stories of Fear
The area surrounding the hotel was besieged with crowds of men in business suits and women in their business attire adorned with their Louboutin’s. Laptops, cellphones, notebooks and briefcases were all worn as if chosen by a stylist. I used to be one of those, seems like centuries ago, but I was one of them. Maybe not the one’s with the Loubies’s…
I stood in the throng of suit wearers with my jeans and Keds and wondered…what the hell happened to me? Why didn’t I feel as important as they appeared to be? Why did a piece of fabric make them seem larger than life? Why was I so drawn to the pace of their business day? Why did that appear so much more satisfying at this moment than the life I had chosen? Was it the suits?
As I walked among them I tried to remember life while wearing those suits. There were hardly any date nights, just no time. My friends became a secondary thought, my children as babies were totally scheduled and something as simple as sending a birthday card seemed near impossible – no internet in those days – just snail mail. I am and have always been in awe of my sisters and women friends and single parents who did and do it all. But I did remember while wearing those suits, I felt like I could do everything satisfactorily. But for that company, the one whom I wore the suits, the job I did was outstanding.
When the adrenaline rush of seeing the suits began to subside, I reflected on what become truly important to me in the past 25 years since I had worked in that business world. I reflected on the decisions my husband and I made so long ago. The decision to have children in my 30’s, then our decision that I stay home to raise them which caused any and all knowledge of the business world I had known for 18 years to fade into fairy tales and soccer practices. And though our income was halved, I made the decision to volunteer so I could continue to be home with my children. It was my decision to attend college in my forties and start my own business. All decisions that didn’t involve a suit.
And while I’m being perfectly honest with you about my suit years I might as well spill … Since that glimpse with mortality four years ago I haven’t been able to go back to full-time work. It’s taken me a long time to say those words and not feel like a failure. I see my friends with their successful careers, the travel, the 10 hour days and the suits, but the shift in my life that provided me with such clarity, can never be traded for those good looking red soles or well-tailored suits. I’ve come to believe that decisions that make up our lives really don’t depend on fabric or shoes or meetings, they depend on listening to the voice deep inside that suit covered body.
A larger-than-life Suit
So after my melt down at the sight of those suits, we watched an amazing man, who is a husband, father, grandfather and business man rappel down a building in his business shirt and suit pants in hopes of bringing awareness to those affected by the addiction to illicit, prescription drugs and alcohol. Now THAT suit, at that moment, stood for something definitely larger than life.
Please take a moment to visit Shatterproof and get involved! You don’t really have to wear a suit to make a difference – but you’d probably look fabulous!
Grateful for you,
Sheree
p.s. Thanks, family, for being patient and kind with the non-suit path I’ve chosen.
Haven’t heard from me lately? It’s because I’ve just been Observing Italy…
TRAVEL DIARY
Day 1 or 2 (there is a 9 hour time change so I’m not really sure)
The beginning… We wake at 4:00am catch a flight from L.A. to Atlanta to meet up with family who we will be spending the next eleven days with — laughing, touring, dining and drinking together.
Italian Clouds
Leaving for Rome with a duvet, pillow, champagne, head phones and sleep aid – could this be heaven? I awake to the coastline of Italy and my tour of amazement begins. Flying over geometric patterns dotted with cotton-ball clouds and in First Class – it is heaven.
The next thing I know — I get the FIRST EVER stamp on my passport! We check into the hotel and head out to start observing Italy. First on the agenda, the Vatican. Tears, architecture, the serenade of the Italian language, Michelangelo, the calmness of Italians, wine, alleys filled with colorful doors and plants and cobblestones.
St Peter’s Cathedral
English signs, English speaking Italians plus the Euro, so simple. Travelling with my sister-in-law who grew up in the South, creates the signature saying for our travels – Ciao y’all… It’s going to be a fun trip!!!
We’ll call this Day 2
Coliseum
Walking seven miles seems like nothing compared to the thousands of years we view and touch and sense. Bricks, mortar, marble, stone, life and death – all make up a Coliseum.
Music, gelato, cappuccino, pizza and people, lots of people, all wanting to experience this history – all make up Italy. Cars so small they seat one and squeeze into any possible open spot on the street, even if it’s vertical in a horizontal row. Colors, flowers, laundry hanging from balconies, all highlighted by cathedral bells ringing…celebrating Sunday, the beginning of the week! Throwing a coin into the Trevi Fountain should ensure my return, correct?
Day 3
Off to Tuscany, rolling hills, Cyprus trees, and towns as I imagined – rustic, but vibrant. There are children, old people, stories, lots of stories. Then in the middle of the rustic surroundings a Prada outlet appears, welcome to the 21st century (and a cute little purse, thanks Carrie!). Florence is the destination for the day and it IS right out of a Fairy Tale.
Day 4
Arno River
It’s the light in Florence, the light that draws artists to it’s heart for centuries.
We view so many works of art and countless numbers have been created right where I am standing. I stare at a Michelangelo and can feel his spirit in the painting.
Doni Tondo
Then by chance we visit a cathedral that is home to a crucifixion he carved, which again leaves me breathless.
David
Gardens, food, cobblestones, art, and the language. Then after you think you can’t walk another step you turn the corner and view the statue of David… no words, just another teary moment.
We end the day with stories and food and wine and family and again, that dreamy language.
Day 5
Landscapes, stone walls, wine, olive oil, balsamic and more wine. Breathtaking historical buildings that actually invite you to brush up against them as if to absorb their history. A passion for religion, family and community that I have never felt, this is Sienna.
Cathedrals or Duomos as they call them are everywhere. So majestic, artistic, commanding, inviting, vocal and breathtaking. I wonder, if there is no God as many want us to believe, why did they build them?
Day 6
A walk down the path of someone’s dream… A visit to an Italian winery, where we are drawn in by the rosemary hedges, the aroma of their olive oil and 30 year old balsamic. The rows of grape vines invite you to saunter after a homemade lunch created from what is grown on the farm. Why does the truffle oil or the balsamic on ice cream taste so divine … Perhaps heaven is in Italy?
As we prepare to leave Florence I reflect on the kindness of the Italian people. Yes we are probably their main source of income as visitors, but there is no attitude like someone is “making” them work in a gelato store, or serve cappuccino at a corner shop. They truly enjoy what they are doing and it shows.
Day 7
Fields that could be filled with corn from my hometown are filled with rows and rows of grapevines. Castles on hilltops to defend towns against invaders and a balcony where Juliet supposedly wept to Romeo are just a few more things to absorb. Ancient stone pavers helping pilgrims cross the country now covered with asphalt to preserve them – how funny. A quick stop in Maranello to see where those beautiful red Ferrari’s are built and we are back on the road. After a scenic drive we across a bridge, and as the sun breaks through the rain-filled clouds it highlights our next destination — the floating city of Venice.
Day 8
A Venice market is an explosion of colors and textures and the sharing of a morning with people who do this daily. Walking is a way of life in Venice, but water taxis are handy to have after a delightful dinner with lots of wine — especially when it is pouring.
St. Mark’s square is like being in a movie set – the pigeons, the Doges and Napoleon. Its enormity, the history and atmosphere, live music playing, children running about and people just standing taking in the history. On a side street there is Harry’s Bar, home of the Bellini and a hangout to Hemmingway. But of course we had one!
Burano
A short boat ride to the island of Murano where you are humbled by the talent of the master glass blowers and then on to Burano, known for its lace, but is home to a delightful color wheel of houses, of which you can’t stop taking pictures.
Day 9
Gondolas, water, alleys, food, wine, and more water. Walking the Grand Canal to stop into Peggy Guggenheim’s home/museum. Standing inches away from the creations of Calder, Chagall, Dali, Picasso and Pollock. Knowing that many were in this very home, transcends you to a different time.
Day 10
Goodbye Venice, off to Rome via a train that travels 150+mph. We delight in wine, of course, on the train as the mountains and vineyards and castles fly by. After Florence and Venice, Rome now seems so crowded. No fields of grapes, no gondolas, just the beautiful architecture and history. My God I’m already taking it for granted … can’t believe I used the word just. A restful day and then on to the celebration of my sister-in-law’s 60th Birthday. We are all recipients of her birthday gift – the trip to Italy!
Day 11
Sadness fills my heart as we leave this place that is centuries older than my homeland, but which hasn’t forgotten to be kind, friendly, grateful and beautiful. Grateful for Carrie and Kirk for including me on this trip of a lifetime and sharing it with Joy, Chris and my husband Jeff.
And grateful for you,
Sheree
Ciao y’all – Sarò tornare un giorno l’Italia (Goodbye ya’ll —Italy, I will be back one day)
