The Christmas Candle

Seeing images of Jerusalem while watching a movie last night reminded me of a special candle my father used to light every Christmas Eve. Here is the account Pepe gave me over the phone today of how he obtained the candle.

In 1965 (before Nana and Pepe adopted me!), Pepe was stationed aboard ship in Sigonella, Sicily (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naval_Air_Station_Sigonella). He learned of an opportunity to take a flight to Rome and he jumped at the chance. While in Rome, he attended Catholic mass in the Vatican lead by Pope Paul XI. When I asked him how close he was to the Pope, he replied, "Well, it was just like attending church here...in a regular church. I was that close. As they carried Pope Paul down the aisle after mass, I tried to reach out to touch him, but I wasn't able to. Everyone was trying to touch his cloak."

Pepe then took a bus tour of Israel and Jerusalem. During his visit to Bethlehem, he visited the Church of the Nativity, the oldest operating church in the world. It is built over the place Jesus was born. Check these links out to see more--it is truly beautiful:

• Virtual tour of the Church of the Nativity:  http://jerusalem.com/tour/nativity_church_3D/web
• Beautiful images of the Church of the Nativity: http://triggerpit.com/2011/03/28/church-of-nativity-walk-trough-where-jesus-christ-was-born/

Pepe then marveled at the black-cloaked priest praying and worshiping at the Wailing Wall, all that is left of the original temple. He laughed as he described the priest bowing and praying in unison..."Such a funny and peculiar sight to behold," he said. Learn more about and see images of the Wailing Wall:  http://www.levitt.com/slideshow/s01p05.html

Perhaps Pepe's most profound experience was walking the Stations of the Cross--the actual path Jesus walked on his way to crucifixion and burial. This site explains more about the steps Catholics reflect on when contemplating the death of Jesus: http://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/stations.html It was at the tomb where Jesus was buried that Pepe purchased a candle. He lit this candle every Christmas eve for just for a few moments at a time and he would tell my Uncle Craig and I how he obtained the candle.  He would remind us why we celebrate Christmas. It made each Christmas eve so special and so relevent. Today he told me the candle had special prayers and blessings associated with it, and when lit every year it was as if you were at the tomb where Jesus was laid to rest. I remember the candle being roughly a foot long, the circumference of a carrot, and white.

Your Pepe is a deeply devoted Catholic...I am so happy I was able to help him recall such a special day in his life! I am also happy I am able to share a little nugget of specialness about your grandfather!

Love you!
~Mama

Nuts

I was watching television the other night and a pistachio commercial came on. It reminded me that my family has always been nuts about nuts. Around every Thanksgiving, Mom would arrange walnuts, almonds, Brazil nuts, and  pecans in their shells in a large platter. She'd lay nutcrackers and picks atop the mini mountain and we'd spend days crushing shells and digging out meaty goodness. Shards would fly and Mom would bitch when finding crumbs and debris months after the snacking frenzy ended. Still, it was a yearly ritual she allowed.

Nuts could be found in our house year-round. Pop loved his pistachios! The red ones were his favorite. He'd alternate with peanuts once in a while.  Geez, I hated when he mistakenly bought unsalted peanuts! Dad would have a bag o' nuts on on knee and a bowl for the shells on the other. My brother and I would sit on the floor with our own bowls, sucking away at the outside until they were soggy and then crushing the shells to extract the two gems found inside. Sometimes we got gypped...one healthy nut and its shriveled companion. Other times we'd find a little buddy wrapped cozily around just one nut. Gross!

Mom loved cashews, but they were expensive, so she did not share with us often. She would sometimes by cans of mixed nuts...funny, no one ever wanted to eat the peanuts left after all the other succulents were picked out!

As a teen, some of my favorite treats were Planter's dry roasted peanuts, Blue Diamond Smokehouse almonds, and Planter's dry roasted sunflower seeds. These I would hoard in my room and share with no one.

Nowadays, when I visit Nana and Pepe's home in Lisbon, I mosey up to the counter and see what kinds of nuts await. 46-years-old, and my parents never disappoint!

Love,
~Mama

Sibling Shenanigans

My brother and I had a lot of fun growing up. He was the sweetest boy ever! Soft spoken, shy, gentle...just adorable to look at. I cannot remember one time when I felt malice towards him. Having moved around a lot we were close friends. We've remained close, even when the distance has been far.

Mom and Dad liked to take nightly walks. They'd leave us alone for about a half hour to forty-five minutes after dinner during warmer weather and Craig and I would have a ball! One of the things we loved was having "feet fights." We'd lie on our backs on the floor, press our feet together, and push/pedal like crazy. The idea was to keep our feet glued together regardless of how crazy our pedaling became....laugh! Oh, how we'd laugh!

Another game we'd play was "airplane." One of us would lie on our back, bend our knees, and place our feet parallel with the ceiling. The other would sit on the other's feet. Then, together, we'd then count "One...two...threeeeeeee!" and the sitter would be launched up into the air and across the room. More laughter...heh heh heh!

More often than not, our good-natured play would eventually turn into disagreement and we'd end up wrestling. One would end up crying and running to his (yes, poor Craig) room with the other (yes, me) pleading, "Please, don't tell Mom!" neither of us told.

One time, while living in Washington State...junior high age, we had an altercation. I accidentally  struck Craig while wrestling and split his chin wide open. Talk about bleeding! I was so mortified at the thought of the wrath of Mom, I pleaded over and over and apologized profusely. Craig hid that wound for three days until one fated day Mom asked, "What happened to your chin?" Craig lied and said he sustained the injury when playing basketball with his buddies and someone's watch got him. I was so relieved when she believed him and it was then I instantly developed a lifelong respect and appreciation for such a wonderful brother.

I miss my brother so much...what a lucky girl I am to have had such a wonderful sibling! Cherish each other, babes. Never let the memories go!

Love, Mama

"Smear the Queer"

At North Whidbey Junior High, in Oak Harbor, Washington, we couldn't wait to get outside and play our favorite game, "Smear the Queer." We were required to spend the first ten minutes in the lunchroom, after which, we rushed the door to get out onto the field. In seventh and eighth grade, I played; in ninth grade I watched.

The champion from the day before started the rouse off by running with a Frisbee. He ran like the Dickens, chased by a multitude of others vehemently in pursuit of his coveted Frisbee. To steal the Frisbee, they had to tackle him--smear him--before he threw the Frisbee to one of his teammates. The ultimate objective of the game was to be the last person standing with the Frisbee when the bell rang signaling the end of the lunch-period and the end of the day's game.

As I wrote this, I became curious if this game was one we made up, or if it was truly real. It IS! Check this Urban Dictionary entry: (from CB2000 @ http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=smear%20the%20queer)

~Mama

"Smear the Queer" is a childhood game of tag involving an object that is held by the "it" kid until he is tackled and forced to give it up.

"Smear the Queer" How it Works: The kid who has the ball (or stick, or balled up shirt, or whatever object is used) is "it" and therefore the "queer". The rest of the kids chase the "it" kid down until he is tackled (usually in a dog pile fashion). The caught kid then tosses the object away where the other kids gather around it and wait to see who has the guts to pick it up and start running. There is a big advantage to being quick on the pickup so as to get a better running start. There are no scores and no one "wins". It is a childhood game of bravado designed to blow off boyhood energy.

Note #1: I use the masculine to describe the participants because I have yet to meet a woman who's played this game.

Note #2: The use of the word "queer" is not homophobic in this game. It's used as catchy name to describe the game. The "queer" in this sense is just the kid who's it. Because it's completely voluntary to be the "queer", and being the "queer" requires a certain amount of bravery, it is not used in the derogatory in this this particular usage.