Joy with a Tinge of Sorrow

Ornament On Our Tree 

We are deep into the Holiday Season. Hanukkah, also known as the Festival of Lights, ended on December 15th. Kwanzaa, the  celebration of African-American culture begins on December 26 and ends with a communal feast (Karamu)  on January 1st.  Christmas arrives on the 25th.These three Holidays have many differences while all share elements of celebration and joy. 

At the same time, these three Holidays are tinged with sorrow. The Maccabees, the Jewish Clan that recaptured their temple, suffered years of persecution before experiencing the miracle of eight days of a lighted temple lantern, African Americans suffered centuries of slavery and the after effects continue. The Christmas story is about a poor pregnant Jewish girl (Mary) and her older partner (Joseph) finding shelter while on a trip to pay taxes to a despotic emperor. 

Biblical scholars are unsure if the couple was married when Jesus, according to Christian doctrine, was conceived by his mother, Mary, through the power of the Holy Spirit. Some scholars say that Joseph before marrying Mary, considered charging her with adultery, a sin with grave consequences (stoning) for Mary. For further details see The Forgotten Tragedies of the Christmas Story 

This year's Holiday season includes several brutal wars, one being raged in Gaza which is near the historical setting for Hanukkah and the story of Jesus's birth. So what to make of this all?  What's the point? The following Jack Gilbert poem tells us why we must celebrate joy while acknowledging sorrow. 

 A Brief for the Defense (Jack Gilbert)

Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies

are not starving someplace, they are starving

somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.

But we enjoy our lives because that's what God wants.

Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not

be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not

be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women

at the fountain are laughing together between

the suffering they have known and the awfulness

in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody

in the village is very sick. There is laughter

every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,

and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.

If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,

we lessen the importance of their deprivation.

We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,

but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have

the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless

furnace of this world. To make injustice the only

measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.

If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,

we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.

We must admit there will be music despite everything.

We stand at the prow again of a small ship

anchored late at night in the tiny port

looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront

is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.

To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat

comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth

all the years of sorrow that are to come.

So here I am on this December day experiencing the joy of the Holiday season tinged with sorrow. 

Those of you who live in my neighborhood will recognize this 20 foot Santa, one of 35 along Monroe Street. This is just one of the delights of the 2023 season while I walk along Monroe Street to drop Christmas cards into the mailbox in front of Neuhauser Pharmacy. A few days ago, I stopped into the pharmacy. Once again, Peg, the senior pharmacist and owner, put out several boxes of cookies with a hand written sign of "Happy Holidays." I could not resist the the delight of having a chocolate chip cookie even though it was 9:30 a.m. 

Another recent Monroe Street delight was shopping at the new " I'm Board! Games & Family Fun " store, a short walk from Neuhauser.  A current special education teacher helped me pick out a game and a puzzle for Ann's six year old nephew, Parker and his sister, Reagan. We will see them on Christmas Day, along with 14 other relatives from Ann's family. We will gather at my brother-in -law's (Chuck) home in Fox Point. More delight and joy awaits as I experience being the elderly uncle.

2023 Capitol Tree

On Tuesday, the 19th, my brother, Lou and his wife, Corine visited from Appleton.. Each year we celebrate the Holiday with lunch out, lots of talk and laughter, exchanging presents, and a visit to the state Capitol Holiday tree. 

This year, Lou who celebrated his 78th birthday on December 15th, was unable to trek to the Capitol. Lou awaits treatment for an arthritic hip joint, scheduled for January 3rd. Walking causes pain so Lou rested in our apartment. 

We were delighted to see the nearly 30 foot tree with ornaments made by Wisconsin children. We agreed that this tree may be the best one we have seen over the many years. I made a video that I shared with Lou. Later I sent a text and the video to our daughter, Emily who lives in Oakland, California.    

This Holiday Season evokes several childhood memories. During the mid 1950s, flocked Christmas trees, like the one in the picture, were the rage. My sister, Angie and I were attuned to what was popular. Popular mass culture via television was making its way into our rural, agricultural life. 

I convinced my Mother that we needed a flocked tree. Ma tolerated my urges to be modern. 

Usually, we had a tinsel decorated tree, cut from the woods near our farm. But that year we bought a small tree from Liss' Standard service station, located in Pulaski. Using an old brown tank vacuum cleaner, I attempted to cover the tree with a mixture of pink cellulose, water, and adhesive that came in a kit. Ma must have had extra money to buy this luxury item.

The kit had a spray bottle that I attached to the hose of our vacuum cleaner and plugged the hose into the exhaust hole. If all went well, the tree would be covered with fine layers of pink-like snow. Unfortunately, the diminished power of the aging vacuum cleaner's motor meant that pink globs hung onto the branches. I was disappointed with the final uneven look. I carried the pink tree up the basement steps, through the kitchen, the dining room, and into the living room. Ma said nothing, but we never had another flocked tree.

   

Here's our 2023 tree. Once again as in past years, I delighted in carefully placing the lights. Ann and I hang the ornaments with Ann usually handing me each one. For some, we recalled who gave us the ornament or named the city (Portland, Oregon; Bloomington, Indiana; Andover, Massachusetts;  or Madison) in which we purchased the ornament. Several ornaments are very old and from Ann's great Uncle John's collection. 

The last to be hung were the eight glass birds purchased over the years from Orange Tree Imports on Monroe Street, another delightful place. Afterwards, I often rearrange some of the ornaments. I am rather fussy about the placement of ornaments. I like to buy a new ornament each year, but it's unlikely I will do so this year. Maybe one on sale after the season?

 

Another of my favorite Holiday memories is of my sister, Theresa. She died in May.  

Theresa was the baker in our family while sister Barbara cleaned the house. Theresa was also a gardener. Theresa learned gardening from my Grandma Julia as both tended the large vegetable garden that fed our family. Theresa took over the garden after Grandma Julia died in 1951. Theresa told me that she taught our Mother how to garden after Grandma died. Theresa also supervised the pickle patch and made sure her brothers, like me, picked clean. She would let us know if we did not meet her standards. 

Sometime in the late 1950s, for Christmas (reflecting the influence of mass culture on our rural life) Theresa made the 1950 Betty Crocker award winning Cherry Winks cookie. Some of the main ingredients besides flour are shortening (not butter), milk, eggs, sugar, chopped pecans and dates. Each ball of dough is wrapped in crushed corn flakes and topped with a maraschino cherry. Here's the link  if you want the recipe for this nostalgic cookie. 

Theresa, besides the Cherry Winks, made other cookies well before Christmas. She filled a large can that once held Door County cherries, which Ma would can. Theresa hid the can in the attic to ensure that there would be plenty of cookies for Christmas. I and another brother (was it Lou?) found the can and filled our bellies with Cherry Winks. Theresa discovered this transgression and in an angry voice asked me if I ate the cookies. Theresa had the ability to look at you in ways that made you admit your misdeeds. My guilty look gave me away.

Prospect Gardens, even in December, provides delight for those who can see beyond the dry brown remains of the once blooming plants. On a recent walk through the Gardens, I noticed the structural beauty of five plants. Their pictures follow along with statements about joy.

"The feeling of well-being I am calling joy comes in many different flavors. And it can look very different from person to person, from quiet sense of contentment to bubbly enthusiasm. For some people it's an energetic radiance; for others it's a quiet feeling of connection. Joy can arise as a belly laugh , or as a serenely contented smile that accepts life just as it is."

* James Baraz, Buddhist teacher and author of "Awakening Joy, 10 Steps That Will Put You on the Road to Real Happiness." 

“Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.”

* Kahlil Gibran, (1883-1931), Lebanese-American writer, poet and visual artist; he was also considered a philosopher, although he himself rejected the title.

“Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.”

* Pope John Paul II (Karol Wojtyła) 

“There are random moments - tossing a salad, coming up the driveway to the house, ironing the seams flat on a quilt square, standing at the kitchen window and looking out at the delphiniums, hearing a burst of laughter from one of my children's rooms - when I feel a wavelike rush of joy. This is my true religion: arbitrary moments of of nearly painful happiness for a life I feel privileged to lead.”

* Elizabeth Berg ,American novelist. From her book The Art of Mending,  

 

“The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.”

* Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) poet, writer, playwright, composer, philosopher, social reformer, and painter from the Bengal Region, India.  Earned a Nobel Prize in literature in 1913 which he refused  as a protest against the Jallianwala Bagh massacre by the British in Amritsar in 1919. At least 350 unarmed individuals were killed and 1200 were injured. 

Prospect Gardens awaits the protective cover of snow as I do. According to weather forecasts, we will not have a white Christmas. As 2023 ends and  facing the unpredictable 2024, my wish for you is expressed in the following Carl Sandburg poem. 

   

   FOR YOU

The peace of great doors be for you.

Wait at the knobs, at the panel oblongs.
Wait for the great hinges.

The peace of great churches be for you,
Where the players of loft pipe organs
Practice old lovely fragments, alone.

The peace of great books be for you,
Stains of pressed clover leaves on pages,
Bleach of the light of years held in leather.

The peace of great prairies be for you.
Listen among windplayers in cornfields,
The wind learning over its oldest music.

The peace of great seas be for you.
Wait on a hook of land, a rock footing
For you, wait in the salt wash.

The peace of great mountains be for you,
The sleep and the eyesight of eagles,
Sheet mist shadows and the long look across.

The peace of great hearts be for you,
Valves of the blood of the sun,
Pumps of the strongest wants we cry.

The peace of great silhouettes be for you,
Shadow dancers alive in your blood now,
Alive and crying, "Let us out, let us out."

The peace of great changes be for you.
Whisper, Oh beginners in the hills.
Tumble, Oh cubs-tomorrow belongs to you.

The peace of great loves be for you.
Rain, soak these roots; wind, shatter the dry rot.
Bars of sunlight, grips of the earth, hug these.

The peace of great ghosts be for you,
Phantoms of night-gray eyes, ready to go
To the fog-star dumps, to the fire-white doors.

Yes, the peace of great phantoms be for you,
Phantom iron men, mothers of bronze,
Keepers of the lean clean breeds.