It’s a funny thing about time. It can speed along so that you cannot believe that your kids can possibly be old enough to have good sense, or it can drag its heels while you wait for that first grandchild or while you are saving up for something really special.
When I was a kid, I could define "eternity" as that time between one Christmas and the next. Now that I am an adult and at least partly responsible for Christmas, it seems as if I did this whole thing only a month or so ago.
I looked at the calendar the other day and discovered — horrors! — that I have a scant three weeks until Santa is due to unload his bag of goodies.
I like to start early, but that lulls me into a false sense of accomplishment. I begin to feel superior and ahead of the game. I even feel a little bit smug about it. Then, suddenly, the merchants hit me with Black Friday and it’s like being hit with a bag full of wet sand. I started counting up and am now looking at what I have NOT done rather than what I HAVE done. It’s not a pretty picture.
Christmas was so much easier, not to mention a lot more fun, when Mom and Dad were in charge of the festivities and all I had to do was write to Santa enclosing my wish list. I needed no prodding and always had a lot of suggestions for the old guy. I liked to end my letters by requesting “and some surprises.”
I think back now and realize that I have forgotten most of my wish lists, but remember with special joy some of those surprises. There was the Christmas I received a camera. I can’t remember expressing any interest whatsoever in photography, but I do recall how much pleasure I got from that surprise gift.
Another Christmas surprise was a pair of ice skates. Dad went down to Blackberry Creek and shoveled the snow off the ice so that I could give them a test ride.
My biggest surprise, and the most successful from Mom’s and Dad’s viewpoint, was the Christmas that my surprise was a canary. I don’t remember desiring a bird, and Mr. Watson lived only a brief life, but he was cherished and was given a child’s idea of a state funeral.
Alas, this week I emerge from my daydreams and must hit the stores. I wish I had done it in August.
Time does get away from me.
Liz Ciancone is a retired Tribune-Star reporter. Send email to opinion@tribstar.com.
Liz Ciancone
LIZ CIANCONE: Christmas season puts time back into focus
- Liz Ciancone
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LIZ CIANCONE: Another beloved dog goes to heaven
We are short one granddog. This past week, “Indy” could no longer use her back legs and she went to that great dog kennel in the hereafter.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Withdrawn society not very social any more
My Best Friend and I went out for lunch the other day. It was a sit-down place with our own “server” (in my day I was called “a waitress”) and everything offering personal attention. The manager even came over to ask if everything was all right.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Technology, new fabrics made ironing much easier
As surely as Tuesday follows Monday on the calendar, ironing day followed wash day on Mom’s housekeeping chart.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Looking back at memories of ‘history’
I was reading a whodunit the other day. The protagonist was trying to solve the mystery of what had happened to a local citizen soldier who had disappeared during the war.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Smell of fresh air gave way to dryers
Remember when clean clothes smelled like fresh air and sunshine rather than fabric softener and dryer sheets?
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LIZ CIANCONE: Courts see a different appearance than cops
Have you ever noticed the transformation between the arrest of an accused lawbreaker and the first appearance in court?
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LIZ CIANCONE: We always want more than we need
Washington seems more preoccupied with the unemployment rate than they are about the constant stalemate. Still with thousands out of work and the unemployment rate hovering somewhere between 7 percent and 9 percent, it does deserve more than a passing nod.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Old age is in email of the beholder
My Best Friend isn’t much for writing letters, so email has opened a new world for him. He can dash off a few words to a high school friend or his college roommate — now living in Florida and Washington State,
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LIZ CIANCONE: A memory test from the oldtime radio days
For some reason, I seem to be the go-to source for all sorts of obscure information out at the Wabash Valley Family Sports Center.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Friskey no doubt was in favor of gun control
I once owned a gun. Actually, it was Dad’s gun and I was allowed to use it. He bought an air gun which shot BB’s to protect our home — in a way.
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LIZ CIANCONE: A robin stops to welcome the spring
I saw a robin the other morning. It was not the first robin of spring, of course. A few of the more daring robins had opted to spend the winter and, although they looked pretty sorry about it on a few occasions, it was a fairly mild winter.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The mystery of the small animal mascot
I hope you won’t think I’m picking on small animals, but I’ve been thinking about Easter and the Easter bunny.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Rising up to defend the poor groundhog
I read in the newspaper the other morning that Punxsatawney Phil is being hauled into court and charged with falsely predicting an early spring. I am volunteering my services as counsel for the defense.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Keeping eye out for signs of spring
The problem with expecting a groundhog to predict the arrival of spring is that there are groundhogs scattered all over the country. The Pennsylvania groundhog may not see the same kind of weather as the groundhog out here in Dobbs Park. In this way, false hopes are roused and the groundhog loses credibility as a meteorologist.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Not every other name smells sweet as a rose
It was either Romeo or Juliet who said, “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Innocence appreciated when you’re growing up
I grew up rather stupid. I didn’t realize it at the time. Neither did my teachers who seemed to think I had “promise.”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Years along rivers make them feel like home
I’ve been following plans for celebrating “The Year of the River” with interest. Rivers have played such a role in my life that I’ve celebrated a good many rivers. The Wabash River is merely the most recent example.
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LIZ CIANCONE: There are always cat stories to be told
I was asked the other day why I write about dogs I have known, but never about cats. “What’s the matter?” they asked, “Don’t you like cats?”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Sharing the family history
My Grandmother lived with us. Ed and I were eager audiences for her family stories about the Cooks. Mom also shared her memories of growing up with three brothers.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Do we want our privacy or not?
We Americans are a strange bunch. We insist upon our right to privacy, yet we neglect few opportunities to parade our personal business in public.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The low humor of Mickey Mantis
I’m told that a pun is the lowest form of humor. I guess that typecasts me! I love them, but then, I like any type of word play.
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LIZ CIANCONE: For now, justice is served in Bball Hall
News this past week brought justice of a sort. The folks who decide these things have declined to pick anyone to be enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame this year.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Well, what would you do with only 1 sock?
Let me ask you something.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Movie memories don’t include many of the lengthy variety
There has been lots of reporting lately about how long movies are becoming.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Resist that big ‘let down’ on the day after Christmas
Today is the big day. That makes tomorrow a sort of let down — rather like “What have you done for me lately?”
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LIZ CIANCONE: No thanks to getting mags delivered via the Internet
I am a creature of habit. I like to know what I’m doing and I need to know how to do it. That’s why I am annoyed when corporate America seems determined to drag me, kicking and screaming into the age of Internet.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Everyone has a favorite holiday
I suppose everyone has a favorite holiday. My guess is that, for most of us, that holiday is Christmas. It's a holiday with a miracle no matter how old we get.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Christmas season puts time back into focus
It’s a funny thing about time. It can speed along so that you cannot believe that your kids can possibly be old enough to have good sense, or it can drag its heels while you wait for that first grandchild or while you are saving up for something really special.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The bottom line is what drives ‘Black Friday’ sales
Why is it called "Black Friday"?
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LIZ CIANCONE: Have we lost the meaning of holiday?
I’ve been considering a lost-and-found ad to see if anyone knows what’s happened to Thanksgiving.
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