First of all…

 

9/11/11

 

First of
all, this is September 11…

May those of
you who suffered and died on this day now ten years spent, may you rest in
peace and for those of you who lost someone… may you execute the remainder of
your life in celebration of theirs. If there are any souls who cannot move on and
need to process further, I shall keep you in my prayers today. Seek a vessel
through which you may speak to your chosen loved one and take comfort that they
wish you well in your evolution.

 

 

Today’s blog
will be short, as I fear many of those who once spoke have gone silent for
reasons I have yet to divine. As for my father? Yesterday he was letting me
know that he was about and at my side. How do I know? Yesterday for the first
time since childhood, I saw a PBS ad for a rerun of the Lawrence Welk Show! Every
year that show was on, my father would call us into the TV room and force us to
watch. My personal favorite was Myron Florin who played the accordion; then
Bobby and Sissy and then a big blonde woman who played the piano… a Patty
something. It was the first show I ever saw in color! (How pathetic is that?) Anyway,
after a brief bout of nostalgia…I inadvertently clicked upon another station
that had a cooking show which showed and older chef from New Orleans… where my folks used to live
and one my mother and father used to watch. While that doesn’t seem like much,
suddenly I realized that the rerun was of their Christmas tapings. The chef
talked about the original German settlers in American and their traditional fare
for a German Christmas feast!

 

Still not convinced?
Sure my father was German, but that’s not the point. Even more than being
German and crazy about most of the dishes being cooked… in this Christmas
show they talked about an old German custom my father shared with us at
Christmas! The hiding of the Christmas pickle!

 

Now I can
hear many of you snickering from afar… and that’s ok. Laugh if you want- I did
too! According to German tradition, a beautiful pickle ornament would be hung
somewhere on the tree- hidden amongst the evergreen boughs on Christmas Eve
after the children have all gone to bed. The first child to discover it the
following Christmas morning would receive an extra present!  Every year that my father was alive from the
day he gifted me with my own pickle ornament- I would put up our tree, but save
the hiding of the pickle for his visit. When he and mother would make the trek
out to the farm from Birmingham,
the children would be scattered to other areas of the house while “Papa” would
hide the pickle!

 

It was a
silly tradition… but then most traditions are! My children loved it when they
were young, but since my father and mother have passed… no one seems much
interested in hiding it anymore, let alone searching for it. Still, out of
tradition and affinity for my father… the pickle goes into the tree every
year. I hide it in hopes that someone will feel prompted to search.

 

So you see? After
feeling alone and disconnected for several days, yesterday my father went out
of his way to let me know I had not been forgotten and hopefully mom was with
him.

 

Thank you
daddy…

Thank youLawrenceWelk…

Thank you New Orleanschef and thank
you German pickle!

 

Now if
Charley would only make his presence known… maybe I could feel whole again.
Where are you dear friend? I have missed you.

 

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