Just Santa

'Tis the season...for returning.  Today I had to drive 30 miles to return something I purchased that I shouldn't have. On the Friday before Christmas I had better things to do. I was in a hurry, and I was certainly not in the holiday spirit.

I was moving quickly on a country road when I spotted the red and white suit. Someone dressed up as Santa Claus was standing by the side of the pavement, waving at passing traffic. There was lots of traffic: behind me, before me, and coming in the opposite direction. Some drivers were waving back at him, or honking their horns, encouraging this masquerade. This was downright annoying! I had someplace to go, and some guy in a Santa suit was slowing traffic. No doubt "Santa" was employed to draw attention to some monster sale that was going on. There appeared to be a sign behind him, but I was focused on not getting into a fender bender, and I did not care what goods he was peddling. But the not-so-Scrooge in me had to admit that - at least out of the corner of my impatient eye - he looked like the real deal. Great beard, perfect belly, rosy cheeks, great hat. Whoever had hired him was probably getting their money's worth, selling lots of trees, toys, or whatever. But right then I needed to get where I wanted to go, and I was pleased when I was well past the Santa slowdown.

Once the unwanted object was successfully returned, I turned around and headed back to work. The traffic had abated, and I was feeling less humbuggy as I neared the Santa zone this time. Indeed, mine was the only car in sight and was therefore the object of his attention. I was curious to see what his deal was, so I slowed enough to read the sign behind him and see what kind of store he was standing in front of. It was not a store, but a rather regular looking single-family house, with no sale in sight. The sign read what his lips were mouthing: MERRY CHRISTMAS!  In those few fleeting seconds as I passed, his eyes sparkled and looked directly into mine. His smile was so genuine that I found myself smiling back. He really was the perfect Santa. He waved cheerfully as I left the Santa zone.

I thought about him a lot as I retraced the 30 miles. Was he just an ordinary person, standing in front of his home, selflessly trying to spread a little holiday cheer? Were there really still people like that in this world? Then I recalled a story on the evening news last week about a man who had made a holiday habit of walking around handing out $100 bills to total strangers. The car radio was offering its own tale of philanthropy, this one about someone paying off shoppers' department store layaway balances. By the time I got back to work, I was feeling the true spirit of the holiday season.

Santa has helpers everywhere, and they do good things for so many people. After all, Santa can't be everywhere at once. But I have a strong feeling that after all these years, I finally got to see Santa Claus. For today at least, he was standing by the side of a rural Connecticut highway, spreading joy to the world.

I hope you get to see Santa, too.

Catch and Release

I have been working on an essay about author Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., but life has a way of making us change plans. As Vonnegut said more than once in Slaughterhouse-Five, "So it goes."

The nice lady holding the trout wants me to let you know about a nonprofit organization called "Casting For Recovery." Here's a link: http://castingforrecovery.org/. Founded 15 years ago in Vermont, they now have branches in several states, each following a program that gives breast cancer survivors an opportunity to learn the sport of fly fishing. From the "history" section of their website:

Casting For Recovery was founded on the principles that the natural world is a healing force and that cancer survivors deserve one weekend - free of charge and free of the stresses from medical treatment, home, or workplace - to experience something new and challenging while enjoying beautiful surroundings within an intimate, safe, and nurturing structure.

I first met the trout lady 33 years ago. Her name then was Dana Trebay, and she was the significant other of one of my wife's brothers. She did not hold that position for long, but she made a lasting impression on all of us with her unique sense of humor and lust for life. In 1979, several members of my wife's family were visiting us in Connecticut, and we decided to watch the Stephen King TV miniseries Salem's Lot. Dana did not like scary stuff and asked me if I had some music she could listen to. I put on James Taylor's JT album, fitted some headphones over her ears, and she went to a happy place while the rest of us cretins watched vampires run amuck for two hours. Dana and I formed a musical bond that evening that endured.

Not long after that she moved to the Pacific Northwest, returning to her native Long Island often to visit my wife's parents, who were like second parents to Dana. She had become one of the family, to the delight of all. As the years passed, we kept in touch with Christmas cards and occasional phone calls. She married a good guy named Brian Knesal and changed her name to Dana-Victoria Knesal.

In 1994, word came through the grapevine that Dana-Victoria had been diagnosed with breast cancer. The prognosis was not good. Prayers were requested and given by all. For her birthday, I decided to put some songs together on a cassette. I had a rather large record collection, and many songs with themes about the preciousness of time and life jumped out at me, including one I knew she loved, Secret O' Life from JT. I don't remember whether she responded by phone or mail, but she loved the cassette. I promised to make another for her next birthday. We both knew there might not be a next birthday, but she maintained a positive attitude and had great faith that God would see her through this fight against cancer. Dana-Victoria prevailed.

Each November I have enjoyed the annual ritual of creating a musical feast for my friend Dana-Victoria, and each year I have treated like it might be the last, so every song had to count. They had to be great songs, with great lyrics and nice melodies. When I made the occasional misfire, she let me know. But mostly she loved these yearly musical journeys. The cassettes eventually became compact discs, but the themes were fairly consistent: time, life, and love. I always sent along some notes about the artists and the songs, and she always sent me back a critique. She especially loved the upbeat, positive songs, and was especially impressed with the selections I sent by Maine singer/songwriter David Mallett.

14 musical journeys later, in 2008, Dana-Victoria was diagnosed with liver cancer and was told she had 6 months left. As with the previous diagnosis, Dana-Victoria chose to prove the doctors wrong. She was, after all, a cancer survivor. She and Brian had formed connections over the years with other survivors, and they knew the right places to go for the best treatment. Deeply religious, she credited her longevity as much to God as to the miracles of modern medicine. She turned that 6 month sentence into an additional 3 years, in which she lived every day to the fullest. She continued to be a source of inspiration to all of us, but especially to her fellow cancer survivors.

She was always trying new things, and traveling to new places. She loved the great outdoors. One summer evening I opened my email to find the photo above. I was shocked! I emailed back and asked how someone who loved all creatures great and small could enjoy ending the life of this beautiful fish. Her reply: "It's 'catch and release,' Silly!" She explained what Casting For Recovery was all about: reconnecting with life. They always let the fish go home unharmed. She said it was one of the greatest experiences of her life.

Shortly before her birthday this year, Dana-Victoria got the word that she needed a liver transplant. She knew that because of her health history she would not be high on the list for an donated organ. She kept a positive attitude, and continued to share it with others. I made her birthday CD as usual. On December 3, I posted photos on her Facebook page of her with my wife's parents. She happened to be online and asked me how they were doing. She offered medical advice for my father-in-law's sciatica. She told me she was working on her critique of my latest CD. She told me it was past my bedtime. As always, she sounded so full of life. Five days later she was gone.

I won't get to enjoy her critique this year, but I know what song was surely her favorite. Here's a link and one of the verses to David Mallett's Greenin' Up [copyright 1999 Cherry Lane Music Pub. Co., Inc., ASCAP]:

Well I work all day in the garden

This time of year there's just too much to do

But there's a fishin' pole in the corner

And it's strung up with a line as fine as dew

Tomorrow there'll be lots of time

To do the million things I know I should

But it's springtime in the country

And the pasture grass is greenin' up real good

It's greenin' up real good, lookin' mighty fine

Every little weed, every little vine

Where the open field gives way to the wood

It's greenin' up real good

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8Px_5yR164

Dana-Victoria, I wish I could have been there at the end to place those headphones over your ears and chase away the scary stuff. I will miss our November musical ritual. I will miss you. Thank you for all the uplifting joy you brought to our family. We were lucky to "catch" you. It's this whole "release" part we are going to have trouble with. But as the old song says:  if you love someone, set them free.  So it goes.

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/seattletimes/obituary.aspx?n=dana-victoria-knesal&pid=155030612

The nice lady holding the trout would like to have the last word:

Quit your whining!

Get out of that chair and embrace life!

God has given you this beautiful day!