Santa, please....

You may have spotted a jolly man in a red suit if you did any shopping Black Friday weekend. My daughter and I were coming back from running errands on Saturday when we spotted Santa and it appeared he needed some chicken fries from a fast food restaurant.

We were so excited for our first sighting of the season. We were hooting and hollering in our van screaming, "It's Santa! It's Santa!"

My daughter did not know I decided to see where Santa was actually headed. Instead of going straight through the intersection, I turned right. I wanted to know where Santa was going and what was he up to. When away from the North Pole, did he super size his fries? Was he a beef or chicken guy? Coke or Pepsi? I wanted to know.

This seems absurd that a 44 year old woman would be this interested in getting to the bottom of Santa's food preferences, but what can I say? Inquiring minds want to know.

As I pulled into the parking lot, our eyes were peeled to see if Santa was in the food line or already seated. But in the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of red. As I pulled focus I noticed red items balled up in the back of a pick up truck. As I took in the entire scene, I saw a man with red pants around his ankles standing near the side of a truck. Santa was taking his pants off in the parking lot.

"Cover your eyes!" I warned my daughter as I drove away as fast as I could. Don't get me wrong. Santa wasn't exposing anything. He did have layers on, but my fantasy world was extinguished pretty quickly.

I kept replaying the scene and shaking my head. It was not right to have a Santa disrobing in a parking lot. Don't these guys so to Santa school? Isn't there an etiquette code these "Helpers" have to follow?

The next day I went to a nearby store and once again a Santa sighting. I was with all three of my kids and yet again the response was the same "There's Santa!" Now my little guy is 7 so I would imagine his excitement is more heightened than someone in their fourth decade. But before you could say ho ho ho, he was yelling at a motorist driving though the parking lot to hurry up so he could cross.

"Come on, come on," he uttered gruffly as my kids and I took a step back. This Santa was grumpy and we didn't want any part of that.

Now it isn't even December and these guys are already disgruntled. What is going on?

I have to admit that I am not too keen on seeing another Santa anytime soon. I don't know what I am going to get. My Christmas spirit was at an all time high until I saw the remake of Bad Santa come to life.

Not for one minute do I believe that being a retail or restaurant Santa is easy. I know what some kids are like and if you aren't used to being around little ones it can be taxing. But if you are in costume, whether you are grabbing a quick bite or going to the loo, these guys should keep in mind someone could be watching. Actions speak louder than words and I am sure Santa did not change in front of the elves or yell at reindeer who got in his way.

So please, dear people who this time of year make a few bucks taking on the role of Santa, remember this is more than just a job. It is a passing of the torch if you will. A spark of magic that can last a lifetime. Please don't yell at people while in costume and please keep your drawers on until you are out of sight!

  

Ho Ho No

I did something last week I have never done. Ok. I don't know if never is the right word but for the first time in at least 16 years I started listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving.

Two of my kids came home from school to observe candles lit on the dining room table, muffins on a Christmas tree tray and 'Is Zat You Santa Claus' blaring from the living room.

"Mom, what is going on?" my daughter shouted. "Please turn it off."

Yes, I admit even for me it was weird. Deep down, I knew it was wrong, but I didn't care. I was like Superman and my kryptonite had arrived - about an inch of snow on November 16. It made everything look a lot like Christmas and I wanted to bask in it. The snow wore down my defenses and I was not up for a fight.

Funny thing is I didn't wake up that way. In fact, an hour before the holiday spirit took over my body I was buying up what was left of 70% off Halloween decorations at the local dollar store. I had a basket full of spiders, window cling skeletons and webbing I planed to pack away to surprise myself when I unpack the tote next October. But the Thanksgiving stuff was bookended around the Halloween stuff. Then the Christmas stuff was just across the aisle. I was...defenseless.

Although I managed to get out of there without any tinsel, the seed was planted. When I got home, I baked muffins and made a pot of potato soup. The view from my kitchen window was hard to ignore - the shed, trees and bushes lined with snow. (Blades of green grass could still be detected as the snow wasn't deep enough to make it a true Norman Rockwell scene.)  The wind was howling adding a chill to the air and, for me, the only blanket big enough and warm enough to drive away the winter blues was to embrace the only thing I like about winter, Christmas.

I have been a staunch believer that Christmas music is for after Thanksgiving. There were even years I made my family wait until December 1 to start listening to anything ho, ho, ho and fa, la, la. Before you report me to the Grinch Patrol, I have since seen the error in my ways. Now, after I have consumed my second plate of stuffing and sampled every pumpkin dessert,  it is time for Bing, Dean and The Beach Boys. To be fair, I just wanted to be sure as a family, we could devote time to be thankful for our blessings before diving headfirst into the consumerism that Christmas often brings.

There are mixed opinions out there about Christmas music being played before Thanksgiving. Last Friday, for Light Up Night in the city, some local radio stations started their 24/7 holiday music through December 25. You may not know this, but being the first station in the city to go all carols is kind of a big deal. I was lucky a few years back to be working in radio and experience the weird excitement surrounding "flipping the switch". High fives, hugs, cheers, the only thing missing was Buddy the Elf telling everyone "You did it. Great job everybody!"

Now I am stuck. I started something I don't think I can finish but luckily there are only a few hours left before I can, without guilt, immerse myself in the songs of the season. Maybe we need musicians to start recording Thanksgiving hits for people to enjoy, in lieu of carols, until Black Friday? I already have a few titles picked out, The Little Drumstick Joy, I'll Be Home For Leftovers, Carol of The Belch. Now, I've gone too far.

Bring on the carols 2016

A Tour To Remember

 My father asked my brother and I this question at lunch on Monday.

"Did you think your 'ol dad would make it to 72?"

My response: "Yes!" Without a doubt. Yes.

Kids, er I mean, adults who are kids at heart, do not want to entertain the notion that our parents are mortal. Even when my dad was in the thick of it this year with his cancer surgery, then chemo treatments, it was Bish strong all the way.

Don't get me wrong. There were days that were scary and days when my siblings and I reassured each other it was going to be ok, but not making it to his birthday did not cross my mind. So after all that he had been through this year, dad's birthday celebration had to be very special.

On a crisp November morning, seven people packed in my van and off we went. Destination - PNC Park. We were scheduled for a tour at 12:00 p.m. on the dot.

For my dad, being a life-long baseball fan, one who even tried out for the Pirates, this was the perfect way to spend an afternoon. Our tour guide, Jim, took us on a journey that seemed to last only minutes and started just beyond the turnstiles. We looked at memorabilia collected through the years from old bats, to jerseys to photos. We toured the underground city where players and staff work hard to create the magic that is a game day experience at PNC Park.

An appreciation for baseball is something I've inherited although not lovingly nurtured. I do not actively follow the Pirates or any Major League team. I do not go to many games, other than my son's coach pitch match-ups, and I don't talk ball with friends. But I did truly enjoy the afternoon at the ball park.

I don't want to take away from Jim's tour presentation but I learned a lot from the almost two hours we spent there. I learned I should take my allergy meds before attending a game, the field is straight up Kentucky Bluegrass, my nostrils' nemesis, and I also learned that Forbes Field was the model for PNC Park in many ways.

Although many of us know this fact from simply sitting in stands, it was confirmed on a grand scale while sitting in the press box (part of our tour). Our baseball park has a breathtaking view -one that an Impressionist painter could not recreate even on his best day. I hope to one day be able to sit there and watch a game and be expected to only write about the sensory experience that a Sunday afternoon at PNC Park can be.

I have fond childhood memories of Pirates games with my family at Three Rivers Stadium. I remember parking at Station Square and taking the boat. I remember trying to keep stats in the program book and being entertained by the always hilarious Pirate Parrot. I also remember my dad taking me to the concourse to cool off and get some shade when the afternoon sun got to be too much. Don't get me started on the best hot dogs I've ever eaten in my life.

I also have the memory of watching Three Rivers implode. Seventeen years ago, my family huddled on the banks of the Allegheny River on a cold February morning with a thermos of hot cocoa to see this iconic structure come tumbling down. Nothing could be better than Three Rivers I thought. Boy, was I wrong.

For a family of five, the PNC Park experience is a little more expensive than an afternoon at Three Rivers 30 years ago. I am not sure what my kids will remember about the few times we've gone to game when they look back on their childhood. But I do hope they remember their grandfather's 72nd birthday tour, posing for photos in the dugout, their uncle telling stories of the night fans flooded the streets during a playoff run, and being enveloped by the best view on the planet.

Remember Me

I did something this week I never would have done if it wasn't for a cartoon.

A little backstory on me. I have a strong affinity for animated entertainment. I saw Aladdin four times in a movie theater back in the 90's. I watched Blues Clues before I had kids. I have a Beaker plush doll on my dresser. I am not sure what my problem is, or even if it is a problem but...that's me.

Having kids has given me a pass to see all the latest animated flicks. During the summer, my family saw the Incredibles sequel, Hotel Transylvania 3 and the Winnie the Pooh movie. These were high priority viewings. My husband and I used to stay up to date on the movies in the running for an Oscar so we could vote among ourselves. Now the only category we recognize any movies in is Best Animated Feature.

This past year, I somehow missed the Coco train. This Disney Pixar movie came out in October of 2017 and the storyline dealt with the Day of the Dead celebration in Mexico. (I think all the animated skeletons in the previews may have put me off. As many of you may remember, I don't like scary things.) My interest was piqued though after a tune from the movie won Best Original Song during the 90th Academy Awards telecast in March. The movie itself was deemed Best Animated Feature Film.

When it appeared on Netflix in the spring, my youngest and I decided to watch it. I did not know what I was in for. It was the best animated movie I've seen in a while and I hold it to a high standard. Finding Nemo is probably my favorite movie of all time. Coco is right up there, really.

I didn't know much about the Mexican Day of the Dead celebration. I had seen news stories and photos and again it just seemed like a lot of skeletons and hanging out at cemeteries and because it was foreign to me, I thought it was a little strange. The movie does a lot to explain the whys of the celebration and how the Mexican people honor and remember their deceased loved ones at the end of October beginning of November each year.

The movie was also emotional for me. Yes, I seem to always cry during Disney movies. (You know it's bad when your kids watch you during sad parts of movies to see the tears start to flow almost on cue. At least my youngest will bring me a tissue.) I won't bore you with the details or spoil the movie for you, but there is a scene that was similar to something that happened to me with my grandfather when I was a little girl. Once the movie was over and I cleaned myself up I decided - we're doing it. This year we would have our own Day of the Dead.

Now I know I'm not Mexican and at first I think my family was like, "What?" But, I simply wanted to honor our family members who had passed on and teach my kids about those who came before them. I thought this tradition was a wonderful way to accomplish my desire. In the hectic day to day, we don't always have the time to share stories about grandparents or great grandparents who, in some cases, the kids never got to meet or were too little to remember, but our Day of the Dead would be a time to rectify that.

For us, we made a traditional 'ofrenda' or altar in our living room decorated with photos, flowers and special memorabilia of things our loved ones enjoyed in life. We had a bag of my mother-in-law's favorite snack, a small motorcycle in honor of my cousin, Jason, a record to celebrate my Pap Pap Bishop's love of music and a small Steelers jersey for my cousin Joe.

My husband and I took turns telling personal stories about each of our loved ones and our kids were able to ask questions. For dinner, we enjoyed Day of the Dead cinnamon bread and chicken soft tacos. We also listened to the Day of the Dead internet music station which made the dinner lively hearing upbeat Mexican mariachi music.

During the past couple weeks, it was nice to connect with out of town family members who helped me obtain the photos for our ofrenda. It was also nice to talk about our deceased loved ones in a happy setting, not dwelling on the loss, but focusing on their footprint on our lives. Because of the positive experience, my family has decided to make this an annual celebration. (I'm sure the tacos had something to do with this.)

My 'ofrenda'

Reeling From A Distance

It is hard not to be sad right now.

It is hard to not want to pack up all of my family's belongings and move away, somewhere safe.

But where? Nowhere is safe apparently.

This prospect might not be as scary if I didn't have children. Yes, of course I worry for myself and for my husband, but I really worry for them. The young, the innocent, the ones who have yet to drive, vote, to see the world. Yes, I am scared for them.

In this age of shootings at just about any place imaginable, I don't like my role as a parent. I don't like that I have to say things to them that I am not confident of - that no, a shooting won't happen at your school. No, a shooting would never happen at the mall. And the one that hits home now, no, a shooting would never happen where you go to pray in a neighborhood we drive through just about every weekend.

Yes, I hate the lies that I find myself telling anymore.

The sad thing is, I think my lies comfort them. I don't want them to worry everyday. I do that enough for all five of us.  The safeguards in place are not fail proof. If someone wants to hurt people, they will hurt people.

I heard commentary this morning about Saturday's synagogue shooting and how an armed guard might have impacted the situation. One of the speakers said having one wouldn't have made much difference and probably would have added to the fatalities. How about a side of reality with your coffee?

If they haven't left yet, we probably only have a day remaining of the national news crews hunkering down in the 'Burgh. Let's face it, Pittsburgh will become like Aurora, Las Vegas and Sandy Hook once the next big story breaks and it will. But those of us who live here are left to pick up the pieces. I am only one degree away from people who knew someone who was killed or wounded Saturday. I have friends who have been touched personally by this tragedy.  I am only reeling from a distance.

A musical performance my son was supposed to participate in near Squirrel Hill was cancelled this weekend out of respect for the victims' families. He received an email about the cancellation and since we were not together at the time of him receiving it he texted me right away.

"Did you hear about the shooting?"

We exchanged a few quick texts and he wrote, "It makes me sad." I have to realize having a sixteen year old, I can no longer shield him from tragedy and sadness. Now I have to be in help mode - teaching him how to process and move on.

I told him not to dwell on it. Great advice, right? But days later it seems my thoughts find their way back to the eleven killed and the others who were injured. How can we change this cycle of hate? How can we prevent this from happening again? My heart is heavy. My head hurts.

But I have seen images of acts of kindness happening in the wake of Saturday's tragedy. People leaving flowers on cars, kids making cookies for police officers, schools sending messages of hope to those who are grieving. My oldest asked me, "What can we do right now?" He seemed interested in donating money to help.

But my answer was simple.

Spread kindness throughout your day and just be nice to others.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

Elijah Matthews, a student at Rankin Promise School, with a sign he made this week.