Hello, I’m Veronica
The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.
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Demise of the Department Store
In today’s headlines the Wall Street Journal turns to Sears – the aging department store chain – which will close 150 locations in the next several months. Sears will also sell its iconic Craftsman tool brand (to competitor Stanley/Black & Decker) in a longer-term “fix-it-and-return-it” strategy intended to strengthen the company. Clearly these events feel like the beginning of the end for Sears, and the end has been coming for a long time. The day Sears shutters its last store will be a sad one – as if a slice of the proverbial American apple pie is lost forever.
In the defining years of baby-boomers Sears was the retail destination (and catalog) of choice. Sears Roebuck and Company – as it was originally known – bridged the gap between America’s small-town general stores and today’s elaborate shopping malls. As recently as 1989 Sears was still the largest retailer in the United States. In a world dominated by Wal*Mart, Target, and The Home Depot it’s hard to picture Sears atop the department store heap just a few decades ago.
The Sears store where I grew up – on the west side of Los Angeles – is not one of the 150 due to close its doors this year. That makes me happy. My Sears store is forever embedded in my childhood memories. It was where my mother clothed me and my four brothers. It was where my father bought appliances and a workshop full of Craftsman tools (most of which I’m sure he still has today). It was the brick-and-mortar embodiment of the Sears “wish book” – the wonderfully large and colorful catalog filled with 1960’s kids’ Christmas dreams. Last and perhaps most significantly, Sears was the location of the “Portrait Studio”, for which my family dutifully dressed up and posed every Christmas. One of my all-time favorite photos has all of my brothers standing smartly around the Sears-store Santa Claus, while I’m sitting in his lap bawling my two-year-old eyes out.
Sears would enter my life again somewhat unexpectedly, when I was in college studying to be an architect in the 1980’s. On several trips to Chicago my classmates and I visited the Sears Tower, the distinctive stair-stepped black skyscraper in the center of the Windy City. The Sears Tower was completed in 1973 as the tallest building in the world, and the first to use a “bundled-tube” structural design. Forty-three years later it is still the second-tallest in the Western Hemisphere (behind the recently-completed One World Trade Center in New York City).
Today’s Wall Street Journal article about Sears – which you can find here – includes dozens of reader comments more insightful than the article itself. The comments yearning for Sears’ glory days are clearly written by my peers. The comments blaming Sears’ demise on Amazon and other on-line retailers are largely from younger writers. In one particularly stinging but accurate account, Wade Harshman writes, “I still like the brand. I just don’t like waiting in line 20 minutes to buy a wrench because the one Sears rep is wrestling with a 1980 IBM machine and trying to sell an extended warranty on a $5 extension cord.”
If you Google “Sears Department Store”, you get the following up top:
It’s a sad statement when all four sub-links of the initial hit point to marked-down prices as the way to get you to buy at Sears. Then again this is senescent brick-and-mortar shopping we’re talking about. Montgomery Ward disappeared in 2001. K-Mart and J.C. Penny hang by a deteriorating thread. Even Macy’s reports “dreary” holiday sales, poised to close (another) 68 stores this year. Could Bloomingdale’s or Saks really be next?
Think about Sears and the disturbing/inevitable (take your pick) headlines of retail closings the next time you click your way to another on-line purchase. Future generations of shoppers may not even understand the meaning of “department store”.
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Back in the Sandbox
Draw a line in the sand.
Therein lies the allure of the most unique Christmas gift I received this year. The before/after photos above depict a modern-age spin on a Zen garden, only the “gardening” is done automatically; almost magically. Place the ball where you feel the magnetic pull, spin a couple of dials underneath, and sit back and watch. The ball is pulled invisibly around the sand, creating beautiful designs like the one in the second photo. My “Sandscript” (which can be found here if you want one of your own) reminds me of “Spirograph”, the geometric drawing toy I had as a kid. But my Zen garden is so much more than cool drawings. It’s about finding calm within the daily chaos, or perhaps just a different way of looking at things.
Here’s what’s really Zen about my Sandscript. First, you determine when the drawing is done by turning off the dials – the ball doesn’t just come to a stop on its own. Second, the line drawings are random, and rarely symmetrical. That’s my own brand of Zen right there. I like things a little too neat and organized, so anything never really finished or never really perfect is my kind of therapy.
I always thought Zen gardens – one of countless cultural contributions from the Chinese and Japanese – were a little out there. Authentic Zen gardens are the size of basketball courts and have you shuffling around the gravel and rocks, raking and rearranging as you seek your higher self. Several years ago we bought my mother-in-law a tabletop Zen garden and I found myself drawn to the “gardening”, not really understanding why. There is an undeniable calming effect when you draw lines in the sand.
The same can be said for mazes. I loved mazes as a kid, especially the books you could draw in or the tabletop box where you turn the dials and tilt the maze to get the ball from start to finish. Mazes are purported to have the same calming affect as Zen gardens. I always thought mazes were limited to the hedge or cornfield variety but there are all sorts, including a chain of amusement parks throughout America. We have a maze right here in our neighborhood, fashioned from painted lines on the asphalt surface of a cul-de-sac. I’ve walked a few mazes in my lifetime but I’m still in search of the Zen in the experience. I think I’m too preoccupied with finding my way out to discover any calming effect.
Zen is a great word, by the way. There’s something about the sound of the “Z”. Zen. Or maybe I just like words starting with “Z” because they’re not used all that often. Quick, name ten words off the top of your head starting with “Z”. I gave myself sixty seconds and could only come up with seven.
If you don’t think Zen goes hand-in-hand with American culture, check out the following photo from a visit to a local retailer:
My posts on Life In A Word will continue to run the gamut of topics, including personal experiences and humor for added zest (ha). As you read you may find unexpected comfort in my words. That’s not by chance – it’s probably just me playing with my Zen sandbox before I sat down to the keyboard.
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Sourcing the Christmas Spirit
The holiday season often feels like a sprint to the finish. From the moment the Thanksgiving table is cleared, my brain shifts to the list of “essential tasks” preceding Christmas Day. In no particular order I know we will a) put up a tree, b) hang the lights, c) decorate the house, d) write and mail greeting cards, e) send packages to distant family members, f) shop for the Christmas dinner, g) bake cookies, and of course, h) purchase gifts for the family. We don’t always get everything done. Some years – like this one in fact – no lights get hung. Other years no cookies get baked. There’s never enough time, the calendar mercilessly counts down the days, and just forget about intentions of healthy eating at any point in the process.
Thankfully all of this Christmas prep includes a few heartwarming activities. My family and I always seem to find time to drive around the neighborhood to see the lights. We don’t trim the tree until the week before Christmas, choosing from more ornaments than we have branches. We watch several of those cheesy Hallmark Channel movies, with the formula love stories and terrible acting and without-fail-happy-endings. We keep egg nog in the frig and candy and cookies on the kitchen counters. We tune our car radios to round-the clock holiday music stations. We never miss Christmas Eve church.
More than twenty-five Christmases celebrated with my immediate family leads me to this conclusion: the spirit of Christmas is not born from the “prep list” I talked about above, nor even from the heartwarming activities I know will take place year after year. Rather, the provenance of the spirit is moments that become memories, and memories that last far longer than the Christmas season itself.
I have a favorite Christmas memory from my childhood. A neighborhood near where we lived staged an annual decorating contest between its several streets. Not only were the houses fully adorned with lights and ornaments, but the streets themselves had Christmas themes, so decorating was consistent from sidewalk to sidewalk. I remember one street decorated primarily with candy canes, another with bells, and still another with angels. They even changed the street names for the season (i.e. “Candy Cane Lane”). You always knew which street won the competition by the huge blue ribbon hanging from the first lamppost. After touring every last street of this neighborhood, my brothers and I spent several hours at a nearby mall, purchasing gifts with the precious-few dollars we’d saved as kids. Finally we’d join up with my parents for a late-night dinner out. This memory of an evening of family fun stands the test of time – more than forty years ago by my estimate – and always brings a smile to my face. This memory seems uniquely mine, as if dozens of other families didn’t tour those decorated streets or shop at that busy mall.
I have an equally favorite Christmas memory from recent years. To slow down the events of Christmas morning, my wife and I created a trivia contest for our kids. They stand at the top of the staircase outside their bedrooms and we start the questions. Correct answers earn them a step down the staircase (closer to the gifts). Incorrect answers cost them a step backwards. The trivia delayed the inevitable, but the first to reach the bottom stair won the privilege of opening the first gift. It’s a tradition we’ve carried on for years, and a memory that will stay with me long after children stand at the top of our stairs on Christmas morning.
Let’s not kid ourselves. The Christmas season will always be hectic as long as there are gifts to buy and greeting cards to write and family members to visit. But there will also be moments – some planned and some not. And memories – some fleeting and some longer-lasting. It is those memories that without fail bring you comfort, joy, and Christmas spirit.
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De-lightful December
The Broadmoor Hotel, the five-star luxury resort here in Colorado Springs, boasts a Christmas season display including over a million twinkly white lights. The weekend after Thanksgiving crowds gather on the grounds to witness the illumination, which starts with a countdown and ends with the flip of a big switch. Instantly the Broadmoor is delivered into the Christmas season. It’s a spectacular sight and a tradition that’s been carried on for thirty years. I can’t imagine how long it takes to put it all together.
Christmas lights are one of my favorite expressions of the season. I marvel at the time and energy some of my neighbors invest to produce a display that – like the one above – can probably be seen from the space shuttle. Surely you have a similar house where you live (or a hotel) where the lights and the decorating borders on the ridiculous. Or maybe you just tune in to “The Great Christmas Light Fight” (Mondays on ABC), where “decorating to the extreme” can win you a cash prize and the coveted Light Fight trophy.
We have a house in our neighborhood covered in nothing but purple lights. It’s actually quite appealing but I question the choice of color. Most people still use strands of multi-colored lights of course – more LED than incandescent these days. Sometimes you see animals or trains or colorful scenes. Those always remind me of Lite-Brite, a toy I had as a kid. Lite-Brite was a simple light box fronted by color-by-letter templates. You plugged colored plastic pegs into the template and when you were done, you turned off the lights and switched on the box to display a glowing, colorful picture. My more artistic friends would forego the templates and make their own creations in the dark.
I see Christmas lights everywhere this time of year; not just on houses. Traffic signals blink red and green. Ditto airport runway demarcations. And how about those overhead lights your drive-thru bank uses to indicate which lanes are open or closed?
It shouldn’t surprise you to learn the first Christmas “lights” were candles, glued with melted wax to tree branches in the wealthier homes of late-nineteenth-century Germany. Electric strands came along several years later (Great Britain claims their invention); originally referred to as “fairy lights”. Finally, several cities – San Diego, New York City, and Appleton, Wisconsin among them – claim to have originated the outdoor Christmas light display, which only seem to get bigger and more elaborate by the year.
Perhaps you’re like my family. Other than the tree itself we’re lucky if we string one hundred (let alone one million) lights on the outside of our house. I like to decorate a tree or two in the yard instead, but the house itself stands in the shadows. Perhaps it’s because I fell off a ladder one year reaching across the top of the garages. Perhaps it’s because I prefer the look of the “candle in the window” (so much easier to put up!)
Less is more in my opinion. One of my favorite decorated houses in our neighborhood combines a simple outline of white lights on the house with a few colored trees in the yard. That works for me. Even a single white light will do as long as it’s bright enough. So goes the Methodist hymn There’s A Song In The Air: “Ay! the star rains its fire while the beautiful sing…” Referring of course, to the star of Bethlehem. The one true and luminous Christmas light.
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The Best Branch on the Tree
Gracie lay quietly and perfectly still for what seemed like forever. Her snow hat tickled her auburn hair. Her dress, with the oversized snowflake front and center, felt worn and wrinkled, though she couldn’t be sure with her surroundings so dark. Something sharp was poking her in the back. Above her, below her, to the right and to the left, Gracie sensed the color and glitter and shine of nearby objects. She couldn’t move to see them but Gracie knew they were there. After all, when you’re a Christmas tree ornament you know what it’s like to spend a year in a cardboard box.
Suddenly and without warning, a door opened. Gracie held her breath, as this basement closet was home to more than just Christmas things. But then she heard happy voices and boxes being shuffled about. There was a quick trill of sleigh bells followed by a friendly clack-clack of Christmas lights. Then there was a jolt – a bit of an earthquake really! – and the sensation of being lifted and moved. But it wasn’t until Gracie felt she was going up the stairs one at a time she knew for sure. Yes, YES – it was time! December was here again! Gracie smiled (though she always smiled no matter how she felt). In all her excitement she tried to push back the qualms; the uneasy feelings that entered her mind every year at this moment. Would she make it to the best branch on the Christmas tree? Would she make it to the Christmas tree at all?Other ornaments slowly came to life around her, yawning and stretching (those that could move, closer to the top of the box). There was the excited chatter of anticipation. Who would be chosen first? Who would face the fireplace with its brightly decorated garlands and stockings? Who would hang from the lowest tree branches, where you could almost reach out and touch the presents below? And which lucky ones would journey highest, standing guard on branches just below the Christmas angel? “Oh, hurry, please hurry,” thought Gracie. “Let us out into the light!”
Suddenly all of the movement stopped. The box top was removed. Bright light filtered all the way down to the bottom, where Gracie lay impatiently. As the ornaments above her were removed, Gracie’s thoughts still wandered. Was the tree big enough? Did it have good, solid branches? Did her family still love her enough to include her?
At long last Gracie saw hands reaching down and removing the ornaments close by. Away went the Star of David. Away went the little wooden rocking horse. Away went the gingerbread man with one eye missing. Finally, the whole box was upended, and Gracie and the remaining ornaments came tumbling out into a messy pile on the table. “This is awkward,” she giggled, sprawling almost upside down. It would take some untangling if she hoped to get noticed.
To the sound of Christmas carols and laughter, Gracie watched from the table as one after another of the ornaments were carried to the tree and placed carefully on the branches. She had only just arrived yet the tree was already looking complete!
“Oh no”, she worried, “I’m a little girl but I am pretty big for an ornament. Will there be any branches left to hold me?”
Then Gracie heard the most dreaded words. “Okay, kids,” an adult said, “I think that’s enough for this year. Let’s stand back and have a look.” And sure enough, the children danced in front of the tree, so happy and clapping. The tree was complete and with the best of the ornaments. Gracie felt a tear form on her cheek. She spied Tin Man, Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion, and Dorothy hanging together halfway up the tree; the perfect view of Christmas everything. Her Wizard of Oz friends made it to the best branch on the tree this year.
Gracie felt so sad, so very neglected. She wished she’d never even seen the tree. Why hadn’t they remembered her this year? Christmas could be so cruel! She watched helplessly as leftover ornaments were placed one by one back into the box. But just as she was scooped up along with a tangle of other ornaments, a wee voice cried out from somewhere below the table, “No, Mommy, NO! Snow Angel needs a place on the tree, doesn’t she?”
Gracie held her breath. Was she really a “Snow Angel”?
There was a long pause; nothing but silence really. Mommy looked down at the ornaments in her hands, pondering. And then she smiled. With a little bit of untangling, Gracie was lifted gently from the pile. She was placed in a little girl’s hands, who promptly marched to the tree and determinedly searched for an open branch. Seeing none, she slid around to the back of the tree, facing the windows and the snow-covered fields outside. “Here is where she belongs, Mommy,” the little girl said proudly. “Snow Angel will be the very first ornament to know when Christmas comes!”
And so, there would be a Christmas for Gracie after all this year. She smiled as she glanced at the branch above her and kept watch through the windows for the coming of Christmas (though Gracie always smiled no matter how she felt). Thanks to the little girl, Gracie made it to the tree after all. Come to think of it, she also made it to the best branch of all.
About Me
The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.
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