Christmas eve

What does this mean? I was in Southern India - Madras - 100+ or some centigrade I didn't understand and humidity? let's not even discuss humidity - and there in the center of downtown was Spencer's department store. An English store held over from the Raj and not a wit different from when it was built many years ago. The place was decorated in all of the typical fake snow and lights - the icing on the cake was the Santa - a skinny dark skinned Indian gentleman dressed in the full regalia - with the exception that no attempt was made to pad him up with the bowl of jelly for a belly. He remained skinny with the beard hardly sticking to his face. Very funny.

I remember a picture of my sister (from mom's 2nd marriage) that was taken on the lap of an American Santa Clause in the late '50's that my mom sent to her father in law (a Parsee from India) and he wrote back asking who the man was that was holding my sister. Was it a priest or was it her (my mother's) father. It all boils down to what we believe and why. If you aren't raised with all of the trappings, they don't mean anything at all - they are a cultural fixture here but in other parts of the world - they mean nothing.
My dad dressed up in the Santa Suit and brought our presents in a big bag - I could smell the scotch and cigaretts on his breath and knew it was my dad - at six years old. When he ran off the road a couple of years later, Santa died with him. Ever since then our Christmas tradition was my crazy mother getting bent out of shape over something and if we had a tree it was pitched out the door and we were thrown out of the house. I think that is why she always invited someone over- they could drive us around all night until she went to bed and we could sneak back into the house.

When I had children of my own - I was in my late 20's - she invited my then husband and a friend over for Christmas - we went and in the time it took for me to pick my husband up from work 10 minutes away - she had already worked herself up into a frenzy and my poor little kids were sitting on the front porch with their dinners wrapped in foil and she wouldn't let us back into the house. The same guy from through our teen years we were thrown out with was there too - on the porch rolling his eyes and wondering why the hell he ever accepts her invitations. Anyway, I laughed - explained to spouse that this was a family tradition and took our guest to our house and reminisced about all the times my brother and I drove around with him looking for a coffee shop to hang out in until the storm had passed. It was amazing how many there were.

After I left home I made no attempt to "celebrate" Christmas at all. It wasn't too hard that most of my friends were Jewish and going out for Chinese food was the norm for the season. When I got married I also married a Jewish guy - so again we just went along as I always have - we didn't have any conflict. The kids however complicated the matter because, of course they expect to be like everybody else. We managed through the years - it doesn't mean we didn't give - we did - we just didn't do the stuff that comes with it.

Last year was the only time I entered into the world of "Christmas". My older son married the Christmas Queen and he was about to move overseas for 4 years and my beloved husband (2nd marriage) was suffering from Lou Gehrig's disease (Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis - ALS) and I didn't expect him to live much longer so I gritted my teeth and participated. Went to the mall, wrapped stuff and did the best I could. Younger son kept telling me - it was for family and not for me so get over myself. I love that kid- I got the message and he was a wonderful support. It was truly the last time we would all be together. Ex spouse was there helping, all the ex boyfriends of my step daughters were there helping too and I was holding myself together. He died less than a month later - just stopped breathing. But he could enjoy the grandkids and the food - I was happy that he didn't loose swallowing or talking until the very end. I am sadder than I ever thought I would be but younger son again got on my case to not wallow, grieve yes, but don't let sorrow take over. How did he get so smart?

I figured I would throw my thoughts on this blog and externalize them so they aren't running around in my head like a broken record or cd.
so it is Christmas. The best thing I ever did for myself was to become a caregiver. I work tomorrow and take care of the ailing and give of myself to them and take the place of another caregiver who wants to be home with his or her family. The spiritual aspect of this time is every day and every minute of life - not a time to bail out the retail industry.

That is all for another post. I doubt that Santa et al is running around the back hills of Afghanistan or Iraq. Our soldiers are there - away from family and they see how some of the world sees this time - without all the what to get Aunt Martha pressure. To share a meal, to have anothers back when the chips are down and to care for the less fortunate - that is every day. So every day is Christmas and a day to give something from and of yourself. May that spirit carry everyone on to the New Year to come. Enough for now.

Afganistan

Long time ago - what about now? It has been a long time since I have added anything to this. Mostly because I spend most of my time reading blogs from soldiers - either deployed or have returned and I keep reading them. In my travels lo those many years ago - I was leaving India and since it was during the India/Pakistan war - the war that was over East Pakistan that is now Bangladesh - I couldn't go overland through Pakistan. I hopped on an Afghan Airlines flight to Kabul. You know what really is the most reassuring sound and words you can hear when you hop an an Afghan airplane? In a southern drawl "this is Captain Johnson and I will be your pilot on this Afghan Airline flight to Kabul! Whew. The plane had seen its better days but at least it was an American pilot. The mountains are really high - how 'bout that for understatement? - and the flight was uneventful - but the "Kabul International Airport" back in 72 was quite primitive. I just had spent one and a half years between India and Nepal - so primitive wasn't anything new but it was different. I was already prepared for Islam and was very well covered - my bra-less tank top days were long gone but I was still white and an unaccompanied female and yet no one paid any attention to me. During all of the time I was in India I was stared at from the moment I poked my head out until safely back in my room. I was the object of attention that only a huge movie star would warrent and it was constant. Here? No one even looked up from whatever it was they were doing. As I was going through customs they were ripping through the male passenger's luggage ahead of me with a fine tooth comb. I was concerned for what would happen to my one bag. Answer? Nothing. It turned out they were searching for porn - not drugs or anything of that type but pornogrphy. I guess they figured I wouldn't have any. When I got through the customs area I was on my own. Now again, I was used to being mobbed by men constantly and also the "grabbers" - kids that offer to carry your bags for a few cents - but nothing! I just dropped into this weird land - no idea where I would stay - sleep - or how to continue my journey. I asked around and found that they had a hostel that was cheap so found one other westerner who was heading in that direction and teamed up.

The hostel was bare bones - thank God I had a blanket and used my pack as a pillow. Guys and gals (I guess - I was the only female but no offer was made of another area) in the same long ward type room. No one bothered me and I had so little sense I wasn't afraid. I wandered around Kabul - trying to find something to eat. I saw no beggers - India is packed with them - no children hasseled me - no men came up and tried to get me to marry them and take me to America - nothing - just people going about their business. I found a cafe and some other westerners were eating there - as I was talking to them - some had been in India - I was expressing my surprise at the lack of subservience and beggers. I had absolutely no idea about the history of Afganistan and they were equating the attitude of Afgans to not having been colonized by the west. At that time women were going about their business in modest clothing but not all were wearing burkas. I saw girls in school uniforms waiting for the bus - a very poor country but not oppressed. The food was hard to find. I went to a market and watched as a young kid was "washing" stubby little carrots in the gutter water - pushing them around with his feet - leperous at that - and passed up on eating anything but flat bread and chai for the duration of my stay unless it was cooked to death. I found the Afgan people very helpful but they didn't look at you as if you came from another planet - just a fellow traveler on this little blue ball.

My plan was to get on a bus and take it across the country on my way to London. There was an English guy at the hostel with the same agenda so we helped each other navigate the bus schedule and get tickets. It was about 4-5 days before there was a bus leaving that would go all the way to Herat. I hung around Kabul and adjusted to not being the center of everyone's attention and tried to talk to as many Afgans as I could who spoke English. The guy at the hostel was the best because he wasn't too young and was used to dealing with foreigners. He was frustrated with the poverty of the country - especially when he didn't have sugar to off guest's chai - but no sense of begging or asking me to solve the problem. Just human to human complaining. Very different from what I had just left.

Remembering this all now makes me very sad for the country that Afganistan has become. Children never asked me for anything - ever. Now as I read the blogs from the guys who are deployed there - there is endless gimme gimme etc from everyone. I was warned to not go off into the warlord controlled areas - but I still wandered all over the city and the bus journey was accross the center with small villages along the way. As I said - I was covered up but still was free from harrassement from men. People were all polite but left me alone for the most part. More about the bus ride when I pick this up again.