An Ultimatum

 Dear Weather,

            If a proper snowstorm doesn’t roll through Utah before the end of 2011, I’ll kill myself. I hope you read this newspaper, Weather, because otherwise I’ll make a fool of myself. Nevertheless my message will be crystal clear: this life isn’t worth living without snow. I’ve passively stood by as global warming has slowly decreased the snowfall and increased the temperatures, and it’s high time that I put my foot down in opposition. I cannot remain inactive while Utah becomes just another California. So, Weather, if you’re out there, be prepared to have innocent blood on your hands should this week pass without a good blizzard.

            Now, just to make sure we’re clear, the snowstorm needs to happen by midnight of December 31^st. That would really suck if it snowed at 2 am on January 1^st, and I was already dead. Come to think of it, I don’t want to die at all. I’m too young. Let me rethink this deal.

            Okay, Weather, if there isn’t any snow by the end of the week (the American week, not the French week; the French week ends on Sunday instead of Saturday), I’ll break my legs. It’s a price I’m willing to pay to prove to you that there are humans who truly care about receiving snow. Sure, you may hear a lot of people complaining about how ugly it is after a plow shoves it to the side of the road and how difficult it makes their commute, but I am one of many who loves the snow for its beauty and its fun-factor. We’re just a little less annoying and loud than the complainers, which is probably why you think everyone hates the snow.

            Hold on a minute, though – if I break my legs and then it does snow, how will I enjoy it? I can’t imagine trying to ski or ice-skate with two legs in casts. Perhaps I could compromise by breaking a toe or two. That wouldn’t hinder my activities too much if I have to follow through with my ultimatum and then it snows shortly afterwards. I could easily go tubing or have a snowball fight with a couple splints on my toes.

            Listen, Weather, I know you think I drive a hard bargain, but this whole painful situation could be avoided if you simply herd some clouds our way and shower us with snow. Think of the children (and the adults who never could grow up). The only way winter is even remotely fun is if the prospect of playing in the snow exists. No one wants to go on a hike or water ski or go hang gliding in the cold. It is impossible for the cold to be fun without snow.

            Weather, you may believe that you possess full control of the elements, but Japanese scientists are weeks away from creating a computer program that puts the control back into human hands, I swear. Soon we’ll be able to make it rain exactly where it needs to rain, or create tornadoes in our enemy lands, and then you’ll be useless. But you can prove your usefulness and gain an anti-human-controlled-weather ally by granting my simple wish: Let it snow! Once again, if you do not meet my demands by midnight of December 31^st, I think we agreed that I would have to take a hard slap to the face, so get snowing!

The Twelve Years of Christmas (Part III)

*Part Three of a Three-Part Series*

Popcorn and Apples

            Animals need love during the holidays too, and that is why my mother has often taken it upon herself to make sure the deer and rabbits that live near my parents’ house are taken care of for Christmas. When I was still living with my parents, my mom would let me and my siblings help her decorate the trees just outside the house with popcorn strings and apples. One year we even covered pinecones in peanut butter, rolled them in birdseed, and hung them for the few birds that had nowhere to go for Christmas. It was always a pleasant surprise to wake up Christmas morning and find a few new friends snacking on the items we had placed on a tree for them.

Ice Skating

            What boy or girl didn’t want ice skates at one point or another for Christmas? Well, unlike a dog, I never received skates, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the sport during the holidays. It’s especially fun to skate outside with brightly lit trees encircling the rink. Funny thing is, I’m terrible at ice-skating. To my credit, I’ve at least learned to not fall on my rump as long as there is a nearby wall. Once again, that never stopped me from loving every second of it. The simple fact that I have blades on my feet that allow me to slice across a sheet of ice is exhilarating. I like watching people who actually know how to ice-skate. It gives me hope that by the time I’m 60, if go at least once a year, I might be able to acquire a few skills.

Old World Markets

            Being male, shopping is at the bottom of my list of favorite things to do. Especially Christmas. All the sale signs confuse me and before I know it I’ve bought a bunch of crap that I instantly regret and suffer intensely from “buyer’s remorse.” The only enjoyable Christmas shopping experience I’ve had was ten years ago in Germany, home of the “Christkindlmarkt.” These markets combine the splendor of Christmas gifts, décor, and treats with the beauty of the winter weather, all with an old world flair: wooden shop stalls, lanterns, etc. Imagine browsing over a tiny shop chock full of nutcrackers as thick flakes of snow slowly drift down to the cobblestone streets. When you’ve had your fill of ogling nativity scenes and ornaments, you wander over to the bratwurst cart and warm up with a cup of cocoa and a searing hot frankfurter. The Germans may not get everything right, but shopping outdoors during Christmas is pure genius.

Dreaming of a White Christmas

            My younger brother is in Peru right now. He’s sad because it’s summer down there. I can’t even imagine Christmas without snow. My parents have decided to take a road trip down to Arizona and New Mexico for Christmas this year. I think they’re crazy. Christmas without snow is like a peanut butter sandwich without the peanut butter. Crazy. I suppose some people would think it weird, though, to have snow on Christmas, like the Peruvians. This year is threatening to offer a relatively snowless holiday and it’s making me appreciate all the years we’ve had a blanket of white on Christmas morning. I remember, after all the presents had been opened and all the eggnog had been drunk, my siblings and I would spill outside to build snowmen and snow caves and eventually have a snowball fight that would end with someone taking a snowball to the eye. I really hope that the weather pulls through this year with Santa’s help and we receive a few inches of white powder for Christmas.

            I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about my twelve Christmas memories as much as I’ve enjoyed sharing them. Here’s hoping all your Christmas wishes come true and that you create a few new happy memories this year. May the peace and love of the Christmas season surround you and keep you warm while you spend time outdoors! Merry Christmas!

The Twelve Years of Christmas (Part II)

*Part Two of a Three-Part Series*

The Après-Christmas Party

            One year I made the big mistake of visiting a ski resort the day after Christmas. I knew I was in for trouble when traffic came to a standstill three miles from the parking lot. For a moment or two I considered heading back down the canyon because there were so many people and the resort was sure to be crowded, but I had planned a day of skiing and the obstinate German side of me was determined to do exactly as I had planned. Forty-five minutes later I found a parking spot and began my day on the slopes. After a half hour run of constantly dodging teenage skiers and boarders, I realized that most of the crowd on the mountain was completely inept at the art of navigating the snowy trails. The ski slopes were crawling with kids who had obviously received their first snowboard or set of skis one day ago. That’s when my German side kicked in again and I decided to turn a bad situation into an optimistic opportunity. I accepted the challenge presented that day after Christmas and gained some invaluable experience learning to expertly dodge clumsy teenagers. I also learned to stay away from the ski resorts on the 26^th of December.

Discovering the Sky

            When I was nine I received a toy telescope for Christmas. It doubled as a microscope, which I thought was cool. Sure, the tele- and microscopes weren’t exactly professional instruments, but they blew my nine-year-old brain away. I never really used the microscope part much, mainly because the toy only came with six slides to view, but the telescope part was truly revelatory and amazing. I could see the moon at ten times its normal size. Stars were so much clearer and mysterious. Airplanes proved a worthy challenge, as I would try to view them as they jetted through the air. I loved discovering a new world in the sky and ever since then I have always felt a sense of wonder and excitement when I look up at night and see the twinkling darkness, waiting to be explored.

Traveling at the Speed of Obsolete

            Technology will forever delight and enrage. Delight because it makes life so much more fun and interesting. Enrage because two months after I received a GPS navigational unit for Christmas, I bought a phone that already had a navigational app installed on it. And the phone was cheaper. When I got the GPS device, I thought I had finally entered the upper echelons of gadgetry. My smartphone quickly dispelled that notion. The only advantage the GPS unit still has over the phone is that I can plug it into the cigarette lighter, thus saving the battery on my phone, and it mounts nicely on my windshield. I still use it from time to time to entertain myself on a long drive; I like to see how much farther I have to travel to reach my destination and it’s sometimes fun to take a different route than the lady tells me, which makes her recalculate everything. Now I make sure to ask Santa for things that won’t be replaced within a couple months, like world peace and food for everyone.

The Only Way to Travel During Christmas

            Everyone knows that a train set around the Christmas tree is the only way to truly celebrate this wonderful time of year. The Polar Express has immortalized the train as a staple of Christmas nostalgia and the Heber Valley Railroad even has a North Pole Express that captures the combined magic of trains and Christmas. Ten years ago when I was living in the land of trains (aka Germany), I fell in love with the sight of a train snaking its way through a snow-filled countryside. I have never felt more comfortable and safe than the nights when I was on a train and the wind and snow were beating at the windows. My list of “100 Things to Do Before You Die” includes a wintry train ride, preferably at night. If you do so, make sure to take some hot cocoa and cookies with you for the ultimate Christmas experience!

            Join me next week for the culmination of the Twelve Years of Christmas. Until then, keep it merry and bright!

The Twelve Years of Christmas

            Over the next three weeks I will be musing over twelve Christmases past. Some of the gifts I’ve received or traditions I’ve observed have made an indelible mark in my mind and I’d like to share the memories with you. Many of my Christmas memories are related to the outdoors and the beauty of the season, so sit back, relax, and reminisce with me.

The Best Present Ever

            Every boy wants a dog for Christmas at some point in his life. After not receiving a dog for seventeen years, I had slightly given up hope. My 18^th Christmas Eve, as I was preparing to go to sleep, I decided to enjoy some eggnog before calling it a night. As I approached the basement stairs to go up to the kitchen, I noticed a light on in one of the storage rooms. I slowly pushed the door open and was surprised at the sight of a living snowball rolling around in a makeshift cage. My parents had finally given in to my wish! Needless to say, the next day I had to act extra surprised so my parents wouldn’t know I had found the puppy the night before. I quickly taught the little American Eskimo dog I received that year to follow me in the snow by hopping from footstep to footstep. He was my most faithful hiking companion.

My Father, the Clever Procrastinator

            My father seemed to always wait until three or less days before Christmas before “buying” a Christmas tree. I don’t remember ever being sad that we didn’t have a tree until later in the season, but I do remember the excitement of finally searching for our tree. By the fourth time I participated in a “late” tree hunt, I was beginning to catch on to what my dad was doing. It usually went something like this: Our big, old van would park in front of the tree lot and four or five of us children would spill out along with our somewhat frazzled father. We children would all promptly disappear among the sparse trees. Our father would begin talking to the salesman, who would observe the multiple children and say something like, “Well, it’s almost Christmas, and I probably won’t be selling too many more trees, plus you’ve got all these kids that have waited so long for a tree, so have one on me.” We would then pile back into the van after the tree was secured and ride home singing carols, imagining how we would decorate the tree. And my father still had $20 in his wallet.

The Sledding Tradition

            I grew up in a neighborhood with a giant sledding hill in the nearby park. The hill was a good 40-feet high and it was a few hundred feet long, allowing plenty of people to sled at the same time. One year I got a sled with brakes. The sled was long, plastic and orange, and it looked sleek and fast, but it bugged me that it had brakes. What self-respecting daredevil would even think about using brakes while sledding? My first run down the hill with that sled ended up in a nasty collision with a rock. After that, I used the brakes. But very discreetly.

The Coldest Christmas

            One year around Christmas my dad organized a service project in connection with an organization that provided aid to the homeless. He came home and told us kids that we would be helping serve breakfast to a few hundred homeless people outside. I was in charge of the French toast. As I would place a couple slices of toast on each person’s plate, my feet got colder and colder, but I quickly learned not to complain, because I realized the people I was serving had to be freezing. I watched as one of the men ate sausages with his fingers, which were poking out of his threadbare gloves. I saw children about my age huddling close to their parents, grateful for their own plate of food. Every year since, I have thought about that experience and know that there will always be people who want to make a difference and help those in need.

             Stay tuned next week for four more memories and until then, get out there and make your own!