Just before Christmas last year, I was surrounded by stuff to do, and I wasn’t doing enough of it. I was sitting in a pile of my own expectations and failing to measure up. And I was listening to Pandora’s Pentatonix Holiday station.
I’m still listening to Pentatonix Holiday radio. This year, I have the paid version and no longer have to listen to creepy Subway ads. When I don’t feel like Christmas music, I listen to something else instead of listening to holiday songs out of some strained sense of loyal obigation.
We decorated our tree just days before Christmas. I didn’t go with my family to pick it out.
Remember that section of Craigslist? Where you can… I don’t know, supposedly find someone who you felt connection to but never actually exchanged numbers with? I remember one night I idly scrolled through the posts, fascinated by the display of humanity.
It reminded me of my coming of age years before cell phones when things like that really happened. You could meet a friend or a crush, and then never have a way to find them again.
I was reminded of it again because of my oldest. Last year, his Spanish teacher was a dear Jamaican granny of a woman whose room was full of empowering posters. She clearly had a passion for teaching and the best interests of her students at heart. Then she abruptly left that November.
I am so excited to share this book today, because it represents a wonderful first. It was recommended to me by my 11-year-old, Two. She read it, told me about it, then she left it on my book pile and told me I should read it, because it was that good.
She tells me about books all the time, and she is a voracious reader, but this is the first time she was so direct with a recommendation. And true to her word, it was a great book.
Halloween and I have a difficult past. I lived next door to a church growing up. We were regularly subjected to smashed pumpkins, raw eggs, and sometimes toilet paper.
The year I was seven was the last year I was allowed to Trick or Treat. After that, we didn’t “celebrate” Halloween anymore. We would close all our blinds and hunker down that night. We watched old musicals and ate candy. It became a tradition, and two other families joined us. We’d rotate houses, eventually ending up at the house of the family who lived furthest out in the country, and therefore got the fewest Trick-or-Treaters.
I grew up and had kids. I didn’t think much about Halloween, and my kids were too little to care.
Except One was in Pre-K at a Catholic school. And they did all kinds of seasonal activities. At the time, I was kind of shocked. Why were Christians celebrating Halloween? By then, I thought we didn’t. Among Evangelicals, it had kind of become a thing.
My kid learned what vampires were from that school, and I was pissed. I remember having an uncomfortable conversation with his teacher about it.
We started our own tradition of take-out pizza by candlelight on Halloween. I would watch the Trick-or-Treaters go by. There were lights on up and down the block. It was the only night most of our neighbors came out and talked to each other. I found myself wondering why we were staying out of it.
