More Holiday Memories
At my (Episcopalian) elementary school, our biggest production was the annual "Lessons and Carols" Christmas songfest. Every year, on the first weekend of December, we would put on a very long program of everyone’s favorite Christmas carols (if your favorites included the Jesus-friendly "O’ Little Town of Bethlehem" and "I Saw Three Ships" as opposed to the more secular "Jingle Bells") intermixed with readings about the birth of Christ.
(Even as I’m typing this, I want to write that the show amounted to three hours, but I’m sure that someone will correct me or balk. Just let me assure you that "Lessons and Carols" felt four times longer than it actually was. And, that’s not just my childhood attention span talking - my father would agree.)
Each year concluded with rounds of applause and all of our teachers crying as we sang "O’ Holy Night" in the candlelight in French.Despite the fact that "Lessons and Carols" led to massive adoration, praise, and clapping, there were few events I despised as much as it.
We always started practicing about two weeks after school started in August (seriously), and we spent a big part of every week trapped in music class with our obviously-frustrated-with-the-direction-of-his-career teacher as he ranted at us and held out the part of playing the triangle like it was the equivalent of be given a puppy or taken to the chocolate store with an unlimited budget.
Plus, since the program never changed, it’s not like there was a lot of variety to the days ... or years.Also, when we consider the fact that I’m tone deaf, I think you can imagine how much I got yelled at and how many practices ran long because of all the mid-song stops made when "someone was off-key."
Unfortunately still, as much as I dreaded every day of the fall because it involved "Lessons and Carols" practice, nothing was as bad as my third grade year.Third grade was the first year that you had to make it through the entire "Lessons and Carols" program in the church. Students in kindergarten through second grade got to enter the chapel for a few songs and then leave to return to their classrooms when they were done. For third graders, those days of ease and mirth were over.
About two weeks before the big "Lessons and Carols" of ‘88, the entire school was gathered in the church for yet another grueling rehearsal. I was in the row only a few feet away from the organ, so my music teacher’s stare added to the intense pressure I was already feeling. (Plus, from the pews, if our French teacher didn’t tear up before the afternoon was done, we hadn’t done a good job.)
Somewhere in the midst of "Once in Royal David’s City," I could see red lines in front of my face and I felt like I was losing my balance. (I didn’t yet have the stamina that the fifth graders had acquired, and "don't lock your knees" were still just empty words.)A few seconds later, I vomited in front of the entire kindergarten through eighth grade populations.
When you haven’t yet turned 10, few things are more embarrassing than throwing up ... in public ... surrounded by your less-than-mature peers.But, perhaps the worst part was that since I didn’t have a temperature after wards, the school nurse convinced my parents that I didn’t need to be taken out of school for the rest of the day.Instead of getting to hide in my house watching soap operas and eating jell-o with my nanny, I was given a sweatshirt from the "Lost and Found" box (after all, my original outfit had puke on it) and sent off to join my class in the lunchroom where Jenny Knowles was enjoying her 15 minutes of fame by recounting the tale of standing next to me during what she termed "the big splat."
Yes, it was a good day.But, hey, at least it wasn’t my fourth grade Christmas when I learned that there was no Santa Claus.
Life Crisis
I never thought I'd say this, but I think I may have watched too much Quantum Leap lately.
I know, I know, I didn't think it could happen either, but I believe my love of Dr. Sam Beckett's adventures through time may be affecting my ability to make decisions.You see, if Dr. Beckett really is "putting right what once went wrong" by changing one event in people's lives, that means we all have one pivotal moment in time when we can either succeed or fail miserably.
Now, with some of the episodes, I can see the big moment -- one should not turn tricks because the rent is late, posing naked for a sleazy photographer in the midst of the "Miss Deep South" beauty pageant is bad, if someone is trying to kill you, calling and telling someone about your every move -- even if that person is a "friend" -- usually doesn't work out well, etc.
And, some of these life-changing moments are just based on the fact that Sam has more information than anyone else -- stopping serial killers, saving people from falls off large rock formations in national parks, figuring out that the creepy albino maid has more up her sleeve than just good disinfectant products ...But, it's the simpler ones that get to me -- a well-timed kiss to reunite exes, taking one job over another, telling a young "Stevie" King that he should write scary novels ... What if I don't see these moments?!?!
What if I miss the tiny cue that keeps me from being buried alive in a silo or spending my life surrounded by cats and well-meaning relatives who use me as a cautionary tale of how not to end up a spinster?Of course, the fact that I'm job searching right now (and, oh yeah, have an anxiety disorder) isn't helping either. As sad as it is to say, I may have to stop watching Quantum Leap for awhile.
But, then I remember how much I learn from the show. Just the other day, in the "Private Dancer" episode, Sam taught me how to say "Quantum Leap" in sign language because as a male stripper named "Rod the Bod" he was trying to help a young deaf girl become a professional dancer rather than spending her life as a prostitute. Now, if I ever meet a deaf person, I can quickly discern whether or not he or she is also a sci-fi geek, and, since the only other sign language I know is the first half of the alphabet, we can embrace over our common bond while I repeatedly spell words like "cab" and make horribly interesting statements like "ab bad" (to denote my aversion to crunches) and "gab gab" (to express my interest in celebrity gossip).
Although I could have lived without watching Scott Bakula's attempt at modern dance to bond with the deaf girl, (it was the sweeping hand motions that killed me), I think I took more from the episode than I lost.Which is why, despite my minor protestations, I can never really give up Quantum Leap. It means too much to me. And, I'll just have to hope that my continued devotion to the show gives me greater insight into my life rather than paralyzing my ability to choose for myself.
In light of what fine actors Scott Bakula and Dean Stockwell are, I think this is a risk I'm willing to take.
Mine!
I have a pace for walking down the aisle that is near perfect, and I can remember the names of family members and their relation to the bride and groom with about 85% accuracy. With all of the experience I've been getting lately, I really am that good.
Anyway, this particular wedding was for my friend Sarah who I have known since kindergarten. And, since I do have a blog, I thought I should take this opportunity to address a rumor/possibly embellished story that has been bantered about since Saturday's big event: I might have gotten a bit too "enthusiastic" during the bouquet toss, but I would like the chance to explain further.
First of all, I was the tallest bridesmaid in the wedding. This was quite a shock to me. Other than my summer as a Mother's Day Out teacher for two-year-olds, I have never been the tallest person in the room. In fact, I'm normally the shortest person around. During class pictures in elementary school, I was usually off to the side in a little chair because I was the shortest person in the entire grade. And, today, even though I'm pretty average in height, I'm still on the short side.
I tell people that I'm 5'6", but the truth is that I'm barely 5'4". Fortunately, due to a carefully plotted history of lying and never being seen without heels on, most people, including my own family, have no idea how short I really am.
But getting back on task, the point is that I was the tallest bridesmaid, and since nothing like this has ever happened to me, I think I let it go to my head. Plus, it only got worse when I got my hair done, and the hairstylist added another inch and a half to my height with the volume on the crown of my head. I loved it, but there would have been nothing out of place about me performing the best loved hits of "Diana Ross and the Supremes" at the reception.
Well, unfortunately, during the bouquet toss, I was placed next to the shortest person at the wedding. Which means that I may or my not have used my height advantage to grab the bouquet out of her reach. And, there may or may not have been an incredibly awkward moment afterwards in which we both had our hands on the bouquet and wouldn't let go. And, there may or may not be photographic evidence of said event. (I will say this in my defense - eventually I conceded the bouquet.)
There are several factors, other than the height, that might have contributed to my mild wedding faux-pas.
1. I know how awkward it looks in pictures when no one goes for the bouquet, and it just hits the ground. I couldn't let this happen to one of my best friends. After all, humiliation lasts for a few moments, but wedding albums are forever.
2. Weddings make me feel a bit single. A bouquet might have given my hope. Sometimes we all need a little encouragement from the cosmos.
3. Open bar.
4. I had been wearing my super spanx/girdle since 2:30 that afternoon. I was spandexed from just above the knee to right below the boobs. This probably prevented a lot of blood flow to my brain. It's hard to think straight when half of your body is lycra-ed.
And, while all or some of these factors might play a role, I think the biggest truth lies in the fact that I just have quite a competitive edge. I was never good at sports as a child, but when board games or opportunities to excel are on the table, something happens.
At that moment, it wasn't about the bouquet, it was about beating other people. Just like I think you should have to provide the full, given name in Trivial Pursuit, I think you should accept the fact that if someone can grab the flowers out from above your head, you've lost.
What can I say? I come to play, and I play to win.