Texas Tidbits: Christmas on the Island!

Galveston as seen from the Gulf of Mexico

I have been lucky enough to have lived all over Texas at one time or another - from Big Spring to Kilgore and from Pampa to Galveston and all points in between. I'd say that that covers a good hunk of the state. Galveston has to be one of my favorite places I've lived, if for no other reason than there's water everywhere. It is an island after all.

The Sinking Sandbar as Galveston is sometimes called is rich in history and tradition. One of the newer traditions is the Moody Gardens Festival of Lights. I lived in Galveston in the mid-80's and this year is the ninth year od the Moody Gardens Festival of Lights, so it's a new thing for me. Galveston.com fills us in, "Festival of Lights is the Gulf Coast’s largest holiday lighting event, receiving more than 85,000 visitors annually. It includes a mile-long trail of more than a million lights and 100 sound-enhanced animated displays sparkling over the beautiful Galveston Bay. Every year, Santa Claus starts the festival magic by parachuting in to Moody Gardens to flip a switch that transforms the 242-acre property into a glistening wonderland."

In addition to the Festival of Lights, which incidently are open daily through New Years Day, there's also the IMAX 3D holiday film, Ridefilm, Discovery Museum, Aquarium Pyramid, Colonel Paddlewheel Boat and outdoor ice skating rink, can be purchased for $5 each when accompanied by a Festival of Lights ticket. If you'd like to get more info, give 'em a holler at 800-582-4673.

I can tell from personal experience that Galveston is a great place to visit for everyone in your family. If you've never been to Galveston, how about taking a look at it before you decide whether you are going or not? The city has many webcams set up so you can get a sneek peek at what the place looks like. Check out the Galveston.com home page for more interesting places to visit while you are on the island. The Bishop's Palace is probably the best-known building in Galveston and is a stunning place to see up close. Click the link and you'll see why.

That's a thumbnail sketch of what's happening at Christmas time in Galveston. If you'll click on the links above, there's a ton of stuff to do that I didn't mention here. In particular, take the time to navigate the Galveston.com site. it's full of great information about the Sinkin' Sandbar.

W C Fields Escapes Zoo!

"All things considered, I'd rather be in Philadelphia." - W.C. Fields

We welcome another Sunday with Texas news that you probably haven't heard about. Why haven't you heard about it? Because our Lame Stream Media is too busy kissing President Obama's ass to report on real news. By real news I mean Dumbass News. Now that I think about it, Dumbass News and reporting on the current occupant of the White House are one and the same. But, I digress. Since I have a nose like a blood hound for Dumbass News, and I have done some dumbass stuff that would make Dumbass News blush (again I digress), I feel compelled to share it with you, fellow citizen. It's gonna be very difficult to "out dumbass" the 52% of voters who cast their ballots for our Disaster in Chief  (more digression), but I shall give it the old college try. Please remember 52% ers, that I say that with love in my heart. So awaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy we go!

• Dumbass News - In San Antonio, W.C. Fields has escaped! No, not this W.C. Fields, but W.C. Fields the spider monkey. It seems that Tropical Storm Hermine did some damage to the San Antonio Zoo. Some of said damage occurred at the ape exhibit at the zoo. That's where W.C. (the monkey, not the guy) comes in. The storm tore up the wire enclosure that housed the monkey and he did what all good spider monkeys do when they get a Get Out of Monkey Jail Free Card, he ran like hell! Now, back to the word "wire" in the previous sentence. Wire? For a monkey cage? Really? What dumbass thought this was a good way to secure a frakkin' monkey? Does he (or she) not realize that even the smallest of monkeys are stronger than Hulk Hogan? Wire? Honestly? Did the idea of , I dunno, say, metal bars not cross someone's mind? Or, even better, put the damn monkey INSIDE the ape house! A real building! I am nearly 100% positive that the good folks at SA Zoo had ample warning that a Tropical Storm was on the way and I'm equally certain that they could have come up with a better plan to see that monkeys, apes and  in-laws were securely housed during the onslaught of Hermine. The last I heard (I am not making this up), W.C. was still on the monkey lam and had at one point chased a lady into her garage and kept her there for over an hour. W.C. must look a lot like her ex-husband. Or my in-laws.

There is plenty more Dumbass News to report on but I don't think it's a good idea to overdose you on dumbass today. I will, however, give you a hint of more dumbassery to come : there's a shop in Santa Cruz, California that is selling ice cream, not with chocolate chips or nuts or sprinkles, but with marijuana mixed in ...wait...for...it...for medical purposes! This is a brilliant marketing ploy! A guy walks in the shop and orders a pot-sicle, pays and returns in about an hour and guess what? The dude has the munchies! He then proceeds to order the 31 other flavors for dessert! Boom! The Ice Cream Guy will be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams! Until the gubmint shuts him down. Or until W.C. the monkey tries one or two of the banana cream pot-sicles. At that point the Ice Cream Guy had better find a garage to hide in. But, I digress.

*Photo from National Geographic

Christmas Cookin' and Other Stuff

Not Heather's Stove

I hope this post finds you all well and ready for Christmas. You've got only a week to get all your shopping done and plans made for Christmas lunch or supper with your family and friends. Here at the Shoe Box (our house), we've got everything done, except for one more gift we've got to buy. The kids have their Santa Claus lists all done and Heather and I have put their orders in to Santa's Workshop. I gotta tell ya that by the time Santa arrives next week, it'll look a lot like Toys R Us in our living room.

We have plans to travel to Heather's hometown of Eastport for a visit with all the in-laws for a day or two. There will be snow on the ground as usual, but it may actually snow on Christmas Day! I guess we'll just have to wait and see what Mother Nature has in store for us. Yesterday, the weather guy said that we were due for a nor'easter late next week. That means it could dump a boat load of snow on us. For those of you in Colorado and points West, think "up slope".  If that happens, we'll just stay home. I am not too keen on being stranded along side the highway in a blizzard with two young children and a wife. I'm just sayin'.

Heather is busy in the kitchen right now and will be all day long. She's making Christmas presents for friends and family. What? Instead of buying gifts for some folks in the family, Heather gets busy cooking her homemade spaghetti sauce, which is restaurant quality by the way, cookies and homemade Whoopie Pies. It's pretty cool to watch her do what she does in the kitchen. Besides, I am the Official Quality Control Taster. All the treats Heather makes must pass muster, and I am the muster passer. Sometimes I have to taste stuff 3 or 4 times to make absolutely sure that it is good enough to be given to the family. It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it.  :)

That's the short version of what's happening with us as of this moment. These plans are subject to change, depending on the weather and road conditions between Augusta and Eastport. If you've Christmas plans you'd like to share with us, just post them in a comment and I promise to get back to you.

Seven days and counting. Merry Christmas!

A Borrowed Story of the True Meaning of Christmas

To Mike

While cruisin' the internet for some Christmas material suitable for posting, I found s collection of Christmas stories, not from some famous writer, but just plain folks. Like you. Like me. I was drawn to one story in particular, a story called "A Small White Envelope". I am a better man for having read it. "A Small White Envelope" is a true story, plainly written, but every last word of it comes from the heart...because the writer is telling a tale that she was a part of, not something contrived or hastily thought out. The message of "A Small White Envelope" is a familiar, yet timeless one. It is a testament to a family who took the Meaning of Christmas and actually practiced it.
                                         A Small White Envelope

It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas---oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it- overspending... the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma---the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them."
Mike loved kids-all kids-and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition---one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.
The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.
As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there.
You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more.
Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.
May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always. God bless. The End.

I rarely copy and paste a whole story or article because it's just bad manners at the least and plagiarizing at worst. I did not want to break up "A Small White Envelope" into pieces. I hope the author understands the reasoning behind my decision. I think he or she will and to him or her I'd like to say thank you for such a personal and touching story. Merry Christmas and God bless you.

(hat tip to A Wharton Texas Christmas)

An Old Dad, Young Kids and Christmas - My Story

A child is born...

It's December 17 and the calendar continues on its unstoppable march to Christmas, 2010. I don't know about you but I have done more Christmas shopping with my wife over the past few weeks than I have ever done in my previous 53 years on this planet. I thought us old guys would be able to enjoy the dawn of our Sunset Years, spend a lot of time with our grand kids and take it easy during the Christmas season. That's before I went and married up with a younger woman and became the father to a new batch of kids who are younger than my grand children. I'm not complaining, mind you, I am speaking of the way the Good Lord does things His way and in such mysterious ways. Although my body says "ouch" quite often while shopping these days, my heart and mind say "thanks" and there seems to be a smile frozen on my face in anticipation of seeing the reactions of my two little girls, Issy, 8 and Bailey, 3 come Christmas Day and inevitable mangling of the wrapping paper on their Christmas goodies. I haven't been an eyewitness to kids rippin' into Christmas presents in almost thirty years when my sons were children. Trey is now 31 and Toby is 28. See? It's been a while.

A couple of other things that I have noticed over the last several weeks are how Bailey goes ballistic when she sees some toy or another that she can't live without in a TV commercial and the inevitable afternoon inventory of presents under the tree about 3:15 each day after school when Issy gets off the bus. She looks over the presents under the tree like a pitbull looks at a T-bone. The intense scrutiny of her observant blue eyes never misses even the smallest change in number or appearance of those gifts. And like that pitbull slobberin' over a medium rare steak, Issy is poised to lay waste to any and all wrapping paper and/or boxes within reach. Ah, the exuberance of youth.

Bailey on the other hand, is constantly reminding us of which toys she deems fit to be hers as the toy commercials play on TV. We are lucky to have cable TV which features about 7 or 8 hundred kids' channels, each one with a different set of toy commercials to taunt and tantalize children to the point of near-hysteria. 'Daddy, look!" or "Daddy, I want that!" are the most used phrases in the English language this month at our house. As I type this, what happens right on cue? A toy commercial comes on during Spongebob and Bailey shouts "Mama, I want that!" The kid has impeccable timing. If I were rich instead of handsome (that's what my Dad used to say), I'd own half of Toys R Us and damn near all of Walmart's toy inventory. Alas, I am handsome.  :)

Being the father of two young children at 54 years old holds challenges aplenty, to be sure, but those challenges are far outweighed by the rewards that only children can give - neverending smiles, laughter on the spur of the moment when we least expect it, unconditional love and ulcers. OK, I made that last part up. I have been blessed by God with the two little girls that He had planned for me long ago, when the only plan I had was to go fishin' or take a trip to the casino. Yup, the Good Lord knows exactly when to clobber us with a clue by 4 when the timing is juuussstt right. Like Crocodile Dundee said, "Me and God. We be mates". I couldn't have said it better myself.

Festive Town Names Across America!

Will Deliver Toys for Food***

You have read several posts on this blog featuring towns with odd names. We have been to DingDong, Texas, Boring, Oregon and Gas, Kansas. Don't forget  Greasy, Oklahoma, Lickskillet, Ohio and Oniontown, Pennsylvania, they  have also been destinations in our never-ending search for the oddest town names in the country. Today we will follow that basic theme, except instead of  odd town names, we are on the lookout for Christmas-y town names. As a matter of fact, I just happen to have a list of them right here! This list proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that America is a Christmas-y Kind of Place.

                                                                         The List

• Arizona, Florida, Kentucky, Michigan and Mississippi are home to Christmas, while you can find Christmas City in Utah, Christmas Cove, Maine, Christmas Valley, Oregon and Christmasville, Tennessee.
• Santa Claus has a home in Arizona, Georgia and Indiana.
• If you are looking for Rudolph, you might visit South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas or Wisconsin.
• A few other of Santa's reindeer have towns named after them too. Comet is well-represented in several states - Arkansas, Missouri, Montana, North Carolina, Ohio and Virginia.
• Cupid is in Nebraska.
• Dasher is a Georgia Peach.
• You'll have to travel to Louisiana to find Vixen.
• California, Florida and Louisiana brag about Donner being in their state.
• Oregon may have Boring, but it also lists Blitzen on its maps.

If you're interested in finding more American towns and cities with festive names, you can find a Santa's Toy Bag full of them right here .

Feliz Navidad, y'all.

***Photo from RoadsideAmerica.com***

Texas Tidbits: The Wonderfullest Christmas in the United States of America

Old Time Christmas

Christmas is only nine days away. Doesn't seem possible, does it? As the big day draws near, the "visions of sugar plums dancing in our heads" are closer to reality. That particular phrase comes from "Twas the Night Before Christmas", a story we've all heard and love. But what about the day after Christmas? My first thought about the day after Christmas is to avoid any and all kinds of shopping by any means possible! I have seen enough brutality - the punching, the spitting, the hair pulling - and that's just the little old ladies in the produce section! You should see the younger women in the toy department! I don't even want to get into the bloodshed going on over the Dora the Explorer doll house. It's a sad commentary on the human condition. But! it's funny as hell....if you are watching from a safe distance.

Back to the day after Christmas. A Texan named John Henry Faulk, a name that is vaguely familiar to me, was a teacher, Marine medic in WWII, a broadcaster and author. For today, I don't want to focus on the details of his life, but rather his work. A specific piece of work to be exact. In 1974, Faulk recorded a piece for radio to be broadcast after Christmas. And what a story it was! The first paragraph is as follows:

"The day after Christmas a number of years ago, I was driving down a country road in Texas. And it was a bitter cold, cold morning. And walking ahead of me on the gravel road was a little bare-footed boy with non-descript ragged overalls and a makeshift sleeved sweater tied around his little ears. I stopped and picked him up. Looked like he was about 12 years old and his little feet were blue with the cold. He was carrying an orange."

This is a great story! It's not your typical Santa saves Christmas story, it runs much deeper than that. It'll take you several minutes to read it, but please do. You'll be glad you did and maybe you'll want to share it with somebody. The full story is right here. Enjoy.

Oh, yeah, I hope you have the "wonderfullest Christmas in the United States of America".