Christmas is the time when people put so many bulbs on the outside of their houses, you don’t know if they’re celebrating the birth of Jesus or General Electric.
Do you know what it is like to put up fifteen hundred Christmas lights on the roof of a house? The kids are giving two to one I’m gonna come down the chimney before Santa Claus does.
I remember my first experience fishing. Okay, so I was like five-years-old when Daddy took me and my sister to some murky creek with those kiddy fishing poles. ON the end of my fishing line’s pole was a plastic Micky Mouse bobble that floated on the water. My sister had Donald Duck, I believe. The two of us sat there on the grassy bank, wondering when we’d get a big fish. OUr cousin, Jonathan, had his own kiddy pole. Dad and his sister were also fishing, and they blabbed about whatever grownups do. I watched tehthe water, and waited. And waited. IT was getting boring. There were no fish here. Dad was making it all up. What junky fishing poles. Then Jonathan got too close to the edge. DAd warnred him to stay away because he’d fall into the water. Jonathan was always a showoff. He was acting like some great explorer along the bank when he suddenly lost his footing and fell right into the water. “Jonathan!” me and my sister cried, wondering what would happen to our cousin. To us, four feet of water was like eight feet. Dad pulled him out and that was the end of the fishing experience. We all piled into the car, all except for Jonathan. “NO, you’re not,” Dad said, popping open the trunk, “You’re not getting my seats wet.” I thought this was a really stupid thing to say as my soaking wet cousin was made to lay in the trunk. DAd was nice enough to leave half of it open for light and air, thogh, as we left the creek and got onto the road. Me and my sister knelt on the backseat, staring down at our cousin, who looked more like a prisoner, or like Dad was trying to kidnap him. “What’s it like in there?” I asked Jonathan. “It’s fun,” ehhe grinned as we hit a few bumps. “Is it scary?” I asked, really wishing I could ride in the trunk. He started to answer when…thump! The trunk lid banged shut. Uh-oh. Jonathan was in total darkness! “Dadddy,” me and my sister cried with horror, “the ttrunk closed on Jonathan!” Dad didn’t answer. I knew he was grumpy and could care less about his suffocating nephew. Would Jonathan make it alive? What was it like in the dark? To be all alone? I didn’t want to know. WE got home shortly afterward and then a soggy Jonathan was let out of the trunk. I was glad he was still breathing. “WEre you sacarescared?” I asked him. “Yeah,” he said, “But it was cool.” Wow. I admired him for being so brave. I would have cried. Just another family story.
During the Sunday mass homily, the priest was telling us a story about a class of Sunday school kids drawing their versions on the theme of Flight From Egypt–when Mary and JOseph left Egypt from the reign of King Herod–and the one little boy held up his picture to the teacher. The picture was of Mary, wearing a blue veil and JOseph with a beard, sitting in the back of an airplane. “Okay,” the teacher smiled, “they’re flying a plane out of Egypt. I see who these are,” she pointed to Mary and JOseph. The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah!” he affirmed. “But,” the teacher was puzzled, “I see someone’s steering the plane. who’s that?” The boy said suddenly, “Don’t you know? that’s Pontius the pilot!”