Daily #26: Taking a Stand for Traditions

So what do you do when you can't sleep?

Well I just degemed a pomegranate, and I'm eating it right now. Figure I'll blog till I bore myself to sleep...you'd be surprised how long that can take some nights.

So our family has quite the bushel of Christmas traditions. Some of them were perennial favorites--some of them not so much. Many of them were edible and I'll be highlighting some of those soon enough. This one, well, you'll quickly discover that I had a tenuous relationship with this tradition.

Every first Sunday of December the presidency of our church hosts a Christmas devotional where they share messages of the birth of Christ and the real reason for the season. The Mormon Tabernacle choir sings Christmas music. It's a lovely production. Check it out here.

There are far worse ways to spend an hour of the season. Unless you're a teenager whose Christmas attitude is more 'el no than it is Noel.

So the devotional is recorded live from Temple Square, our church's headquarters and then broadcast to meeting houses around the world. If you live within the broadcast region of BYU's public television it's rebroadcast a view hours after. And now it's published to the website. While even growing up there was these alternative viewing methods, there was only one for our family we would watch the broadcast tele-streamed to a local meeting house live.

Now I think that every year I would have embraced the tradition (well more the infamous Hart one armed side hugged the tradition) if it had included sipping cocoa in our christmas pajamas next to the Christmas tree via our television. But as it was, it meant an extra hour in a meeting house, an extra hour in church clothes, the loss of an hour of the three hours a week we had access to cable television at my Grandma's house, and being afraid people there were assuming that a) you didn't have a TV b) you were dumb enough not to know that could watch it on TV c) you were lame enough or swept up in yuletide superiority to disregard a & b and watch it at the meeting house anyways.

Has my conjouring of my pubescent self conveyed an adequate picture of the statistical probabilities that at any one of these broadcasts I was likely very far from enthused to be walking into the devotional Family Von Trapp style.

Here's the most shameful account.

It's Winter.
It's Christmas.
It's the day of the Christmas devotional.
Which means it's been a Fast Sunday (Our Church does a collective fast the first Sunday of every month for two meals read more here)[now by the time of the broadcast we would have eaten dinner but I'm sure my electrolytes hadn't quite balanced out.]
I'm back in a shirt and tie.
I'm back in a meeting house.
I'm somewhere between the ages of 13-17.

The scales are pretty stacked in favor of Grumpy Gus.

Sealing the balance: I had positioned myself at the back of the line of our family in hopes of two things. First, my funeral procession cadence will convey to the few peers in attendance that I'm cool enough to not think that it's cool to be here. Second, and most important, as my family files into the bench I will likely take my place on the end seat of the pew with an arm rest.

The end seat is not just the place to rest your elbows. It's the power seat. Best seat for a quick exit and the arm rest does afford you two options for sleeping. Crink Necked leaning sleep which would have been a nice change of position from my usually Forehead on Forward Pew that I had already used that day I'm sure.

However my plan of action was foiled by someone further up the line of ducks with the same objective/different approach who instead of sliding down parked immediately next to the endseat and let everyone else file past. I caboose in to find they are in 'my' seat. I motion for them to move down. They motion back--not on your life.

Now I could have done the usual Gruff 'n tuff pass making sure to knee them first before I step on both their feet stumbling and then catching myself on their sternum. But I decided to take a noble MLK/Ghandi passive resistance approach by staging a sit over.

And by a 'sit over'. I mean a sit over there where there is an empty row/endseat.

So I sit down opposite of the rest of my family across the aisle disregarding the inevitable silent snap, finger over, finger down motions of my mother by pretending to be engrossed in MoTab's medley of Christmas Carols. I've left them with few options. The program started before we even arrived which I think means will limit my parents ambition to direct further attention to the cold war I have just initiated.

A formidable foe my mother. She did what she does best and ante's up very diplomatically. If Judson won't sit with us we'll sit with him. The family stands exits the pew they have just sat in and crosses the aisle to where I'm sitting.

I'm surprised by the overtness of the gesture but let the row of ducks file past with minimal nudging. Once they are seated, I raise the stakes by following their lead. I stand up and cross the divide again to sit where the family had just warmed the seats.

The ball back in Mom's court, she did what good parents do--let the air out of the ball.

The family sat on their side. I sat on my side. More than likely adrenalin rushing sleep I did not. I knew that I only had an hour to construct a compelling argument to explain my public display of defiance. I don't think I ever got a chance to use what ever pitiful piece of rhetoric I had fashioned.

We may have shared short words of displeasure but it diffused pretty quickly.

I may have won the battle but I had lost the war; the incident has been fodder for family teasing and stereotyping ever since--Grizzly bear is a pretty hard reputation to shake.

Besides sharing this as an explanation as to why I'll send my mom increasingly large mother's day bouquets as I become more educated as to how hard her job was I offer one other take-away point

Establishing family traditions is far from easy. The more meaningful the tradition is the more opposition, internal and external, you will face in maintaining it. While there needs to be some give and take as your family modifies traditions to better meet the traits and temperaments of the family, you can't take down the barn everytime the wind blows.

You have to be willing to accept the unperfect version of your perfect way to spend the holiday as part of the cost of spending it with the people you love the most. Kids even teenagers will learn to appreciate what well-intentioned traditions represent, even if they never fully appreciate the tradition its self.

Thanks for thinking I was worth putting up with me.

Daily #25: Do you remember the 5th of December?

Okay so if you know me you already know but if you don't you might as well know now.

I hate winter.

Just so there is no question:

I hate winter.

In fact I think the primary reason I have some reputation for not oozing Christmas cheer is that I just project my dislike for winter onto everything in winter's path. Not to mention the whole holly jolly cheery pockets full of mirth attitude that runs rampant this time of year stands in such sharp contrast to my internal state because of the cold and the snow and the short days that it makes me kind of angry.

Not helping the situation is the realization that the reason for the season didn't happen in this season at all. It's some arbitrary dropping of what could be a fantastic holiday if it say happened in June or August onto pretty much the worst place on a calendar it could fall.

Would Bing Crosby's baritone sound any less romantic if he was singing

"I'm dreaming of a bright Christmas."

Or

"T-bones roasting on an open grill"

Okay so I think you get the point and I've found that there is no converting Winter people. [With my inlaws I often feel like an atheist who's stumbled into a Southern Baptist Revival, I just don't get the jubilation but sure pass me a tamborine I'd hate to dampen the mood]

There has been one very good thing to happen in the winter. Arguably the best thing that ever happened to me in the winter or any season for that matter. I think there is some divine irony that can be credited for that. Any guesses?

Five years ago today I met my wife and as my cell phone will tell you 'My best friend'. [She set the ringtone as this to make it awkward for everyone around me when she calls and I push ignore rather than interrupt the conversation. Judge not lest ye be Judged'

The easiest one liner response with how I met my wife is the 'We met at BYU'. Not a huge fan of this response because it conjures up images of star struck lovers at Helaman Halls, a eager beaver American Heritage TA and a freshman that just needs to pass, and the FHE Mom and Dad who decided to extend their current calling into the eternities.

The only reason the 'we met at BYU' response holds any value is that we were both enrolled there when we met. But that was about it.

It was a blind date actually; a classmate of hers a neighbor/friend/former girlfriends cousin of mine set us up.

I was on a kick of okay nothing's really working out for me here so let's do everything different.

Which meant I would take a blind date to a company Christmas party--when I was working at a call center. Yep really deft move, I know. Because nothing impresses a girl more than your position at the bottom of a call center chain of command.

Don't worry I get more impressive. Script from first call. I was in the BYU library.

Me: Hi is Jan Burn-HAM there? [It's /burn/um/- Got that a while later; also dork marking me the number I had was her cell phone so of course Jan Burnham was there. I figured that after probably 30 calls which of course started with 'Hi! Is Jan there?' Always her responding Hi Judson. Oh Hi, Jan. Do you just sit in your apartment by the phone waiting for my call?']

Jan: This is Jan.

Me: [Call Center tenor] Hi, Jan this is Judson* Hart Camille's friend [well articulated 'Judson' because people have a hard time with that]

Jan: Oh hi.

Me: So Camille said you might be available to go out next week. [I don't know for sure but I would guess I was this abrupt].

Jan: Um yeah. What day was that?

Me: Next Monday night. It's this Christmas work thing.

Jan: (Darn the only thing I have Monday is FHE with four foot Paul) Yeah I think that would work.

Me: Great, and actually I have a friend who needs a date so if you have a roommate or friend that wants to come too that would be awesome.

Jan: (relief, well he at least has one friend). Yeah I think I could find someone that would go. I'll let you know if not.

Me: (the line that will live in marital infamy) Thanks and I know that it's finals and I respect your time so we'll pick you up at 7 and bring you back by 9.

Jan: (who says things like that) Oh okay. Thanks.

Me: See you then.

------------------------------------
So in keeping with the 'let's do things differently' theme. I bought an entire new outfit. Well it started out as just a shirt and then it snowed so I bought a jacket and then I worried that jeans were not going to be dressy enough to wear to a call center dinner at the then UVSC ballroom so I bought a pair of khaki's at the BYU bookstore before I cleaned my car on my way to pick my friend and then her and her friend up.

Get to her apartment. There is still a pumpkin outside her door from Halloween. I take this as a good omen having grown pumpkins for a good part of my life.

Ring the door. She answers looking even better than the pictures I was shown earlier [Always a good thing]. We exchange awkward introductions and walk to the car.

I turn my wit up a couple of notches as we drive to UVSC which means that it was likely hovering right around the conversational equivalent of Gene Kelly. I may make that look easy but it does require some cognitive resources which I withdrew from those allocated for driving. Not to fear that it increased my recklessness contrarily I just went from driving like a 50 year old man to driving like an 80 year old woman taking her driver's ed test.

40 minutes later we reach UVU and park. 30 minutes later the four of us find the Ballroom [UVU is about as navigable as the Parisian sewer] We get to the door only to realize I left our tickets in my car. That allows Jan and I some time alone as we go back to the car to get our tickets.

There were lots of things that I immediately liked about Jan but three in particular that stand out.

First her laugh. Jan's laugh had this quality of sincerity to it. You know that laugh that some people pull out in awkward initial situations. Not that what's being said isn't kind of funny but it isn't THAT funny. I wasn't a 100% percent sure if she was laughing at what I was saying or laughing at me for saying it but either way her laugh said that which ever it was she geniunely thought it was funny.

The second was that she came across as completely grounded; she had a very clear picture of who she was and what she was doing at the time and she was completely secure in it. Contrasted with me at the same point and time and this was a very enviable trait. I craved that security and from our initial interaction wondered if it was transferable.

Third the ease of conversation. Perhaps it's a combination of one and two but the interaction between us was effortless. Have you ever had a dream where you are running between two points that you know are well beyond your current fitness level but you aren't winded in the slightest? It was kind of like that and left me thinking I could do this forever.

So the date will live in infamy for being second rate in most respects, the food, the comedy act, the very long speech from the CEO but what we wouldn't give to live the night again. Actually I know what we would give---an entire six months. I left the job shortly after the Christmas party but then I would pick it up six months later right before we got married. The motivation was in large part because of how romantic I thought it would be to go to the Christmas party one year later. Imagine my disgust when in lieu of a Christmas party we got 20 dollar gift cards to Walmart.

Best decision I ever made was sending an email the next day as a follow up Thank you. This was also part of the 'do it different' campaign and one of the take away points from a Young Men's Courtship fireside. I like to think that introducing a writing element to our relationship was about the same as Mario Lopez getting his shirt snagged in the closing doors of a subway and ripped off as the train pulls away--a subtle way of putting one of the more attractive parts of your person right out there. The rest is history.

Thanks, Love. Here's to five on 12/5.

Daily Read #24: Do you countdown?

So at what age did you stop counting down to Christmas? Maybe you haven't stopped. But at some point I did. Sure I still count down other things---days until that paper is due, hours until bedtime but days until Christmas...nope.

Unfortunate because we've had some really good ways to count down too.

Paper chains in early elementary school. Alternating red loops and green loops strung until they made it up to the golden bell. Grad School should do that too except instead of golden bell they could have a skull and cross bones.


[pict actually came from this blog; the author has on each loop a Christmasish activity that they then do as a family; kind of fun if you can tolerate that much holiday cheer :]

One year we had a long chain made of saran saran wrap; every few inches there was a pouch of cinnamon bears or maybe Hershey's kisses. We'd unwrap one pouch an evening until the big night.

Then there is the classic Christmas chocolate window advent. We each were given one one year. I'm surprised I ever had that kind of will power. Maybe I didn't and that's why they were a one time treat.

The wonderous fabric of felt gave our family two unique advents. One that looked a little bit like this with an ornament you would pin on for every day leading up to Christmas.


The other was for when we were on our missions. The internet failed to give me a picture and I'll do a bad job of describing it maybe I'll get a picture later. It had a dowel that went up from a stand and there were twenty four pockets made out of green felt that made up the Christmas tree for twenty four little individually wrapped presents. It was the envy of all other missionaries well except when I had it in my luggage in the MTC...in June. One particularly memorable gift was these little single serve squeeze packets of skippy peanut butter. To a missionary in Korea it was like a prisoner getting a little packet of freedom.

Well lame post I know, but I think this is close to the 20,000th word I've written today. You got the last couple I could massage out of my finger tips [I'm afraid the cream got splattered elsewhere].

The reason for the countdown theme is that I've obviously added one because tomorrow is the first day your view matters (well to someone besides me) No it's not a countdown till Christmas but one to get to the end of the Pledge date for Santa's Bag of Books. So far we have $1.35 per view in pledges but of course we could always use more--click the picture of the 'Change' and see what you can do (if you can't do more than a penny, it will be appreciated nonetheless). You can see what the traffic for this week looked like at the bottom of the blog to see what your pledge would translate too [Monday kind of inflated the numbers a bit].

And if nothing else come back daily and don't forget to bring a friend. Probably one of the best ways to get them here is to add our button to your blog's sidebar. They'll click through out of curiosity and my wit and charm will keep them coming back for more :)