Christmas Magic

Dear Steven;

It was wonderful having your cousins here for Christmas. Santa has not visited our house in the last few years. You know he only has time to stop in houses where there are children.

Alicia and especially Denise, were skeptical. When we put out the kolachke and the chocolate chip cookie next to his glass of milk, Alicia asked if Santa would really eat them. I told her that it depended on how many cookies and glasses of milk he'd already had before reaching our house. She let out a heavy sigh, and with heavy weight falling on 11-year old shoulders, said, "He's not real. They won't get eaten."

It broke my heart to see such anticipated disappointment.

You used to love Christmas. You dutifully wrote your letter to Santa, politely stating your one gift request. Yes, always only one request... but one, usually expensive, request. You wrote your first letter when you were about 5, asking Santa for the Fisher-Price 3-In-1 pool table. Dad and I tried to reason with you.

"Steven, the pool table is really expensive." It cost $299.99.
"Santa will bring it." you answered confidently.
"But what if he doesn't? It may be too expensive."
"Santa is magic, Mama. Of course he will bring it."

Guess what? Santa did bring us the Fisher-Price 3-In-1 pool table that year.

Then, do you remember the year that you wanted a printer for your computer? You were about 8. Weeks before Christmas, you measured the opening from the chimney to the fireplace to make sure that the printer box would fit down the chimney. And it did. Santa is magic, Mama.

To my relief and dismay, on Christmas morning, there were sooty ashy boot-prints all over the family room leading from the fireplace. Auntie Sue was yelling, "He came, he came. Come see." The girls ran in and saw packages - one simply labeled "Denise" and the other labeled "Alicia." They both looked at me and Alicia said, "He didn't finish his milk, but he ate all the chocolate chip cookie and half the kolachke."

Denise just stared at her package with reluctant wonder. Her 13-year-old very intelligent brain was at odds with her 13-year-old heart that desperately wanted to believe.

The rest of Christmas morning was a blur of  ripped wrapping paper and bows. Those presents were insignificant. They paled next to the stuffed tiger Alicia clung to all day... the one Santa brought. Santa came to our house again this Christmas, Steven. And like all his other visits before this, he left much more than presents. Santa is magic, Mama.

I hope you had a nice Christmas too, Steven. I wish you Santa's magic this Christmas, and for all Christmases to come and for the days in between. In these troubling times of humanity's inhumanity toward one another, we could all use some Santa magic.

Santa is magic, my son. Santa is magic.

Love,
Mom and Dad

Giving Thanks

Dear Steven,

We had another successful Thanksgiving celebration. When I looked around the dinner table, laden with enough food to feed a small starving 3rd world nation, my head is filled with the usual obligatory cliché things that we should be thankful for... family and friends, health, blah, blah, blah. I am so very tired.

Your great-grandmother will be moving into an assisted living facility soon. This is the right thing to do and the right time. The house is just not safe or comfortable for her anymore. She will be happier where there will be other people for her to talk to and activities to do. She will be well cared for. She will get 3 delicious meals a day. This is the right thing to do and the right time. This is what we tell ourselves. This is the right thing to do.

Guilt is a funny thing. Logic tells us one thing while an annoying voice buzzes contradictory, reproving tongue-clucking admonitions in our brains. We are so very selfish.

And then I realize that we really are selfish... and greedy. She helped you grow into the man that you are... a very fine man. We will miss the years that the two of you would play card games that you made up, after school. Years of pumpkin pies that you helped her make. Years of report cards and shadow boxes and hugs and kisses. Years of blankie mendings. She and you have always had such a special bond. She has been part of most of your happy years. I guess we just want those years to go on forever.

But there is a natural progression in life. And we must make new happy memories with new changes. Change is inevitable. Change is good.
A wise young man told me, "Stop finding flaws in my logic in order to further your point against yourself." And so I will.

Always hopeful, yet discontent.
He knows changes aren't permanent.
But change is.
- Rush "Tom Sawyer"

I rethink our blessings.

We are thankful for our health. We are thankful that we have enough to eat and enough to share. We are thankful that we have family and friends to share with. We are thankful for all the years that we have had with many happy memories, and all the happy years that have yet to come. For all these and more, we give thanks.

Happy Thanksgiving, Son.

Love,
Mom and Dad

My Morning with Max

grand (grānd) –adjective
stately, majestic, or dignified
magnificent or splendid
noble or revered
of great importance, distinction
princely, regal, royal, exalted

grandmother (grānd'mŭth'ər) – noun
The mother of one's father or mother.
A female ancestor.

Dear Steven,

It was Grand Friends Day at Kingsley today. Yes, it must have changed from Grandparents Day, to include children who do not have grandparents who could attend. When I was invited to go, I was extremely flattered but with trepidation. There was an ominous voice faintly taunting menacingly in the back of my head. Am I really old enough? Do I really appear old enough? Omg, do I look old?

Have I joined the ranks of female ancestors already.

I walked in with my very excited and proud escort. The pictures and signs have changed but the halls welcomed me with familiar smells and reminders of long-ago teacher conferences, cake walks, book fairs, assemblies and holiday recitals. Do you remember them?

We were warmly greeted by Max's teacher. The classroom was adorned with kaleidoscopic flying paper turkeys. It was a sun-shiny day and the classroom was especially bright and cheery. There was palpable enthusiastic anticipation as grandparents and grand friends filed in with their excited kindergarteners.

We hung our jackets in our cubbies. We found our seats and placed our pencil cases neatly on our desks. We recited the Pledge of Allegiance with our right hands over our hearts. And then, we took turns at the Smart-Board.

The Smart-Board is a white-board touch-screen computer monitor. It could have come right out of some futuristic Star Trek episode. All the students' names were "written" (projected) on one side of the board, underneath a graphic of a home. Each student stepped up, identified and touched his or her name and then, "dragged" it to the other side, underneath the graphic of a school building.

This is how attendance is taken in the future. And the future is now. No longer do our children passively sit and politely respond "here," when their names are called. They participate, they partake, they are engaged... they shout, “WE ARE HERE!” Max and you, dear son, are our propitious future. Lucky us.

And the time just flew. We read. We counted. We did puzzles. We had circle-time. And there was a rousing rendition of "Tu-ti-ta-ta." Since this was a grand-friend-inclusive activity, geriatric gymnastic gyrations were necessary in order to keep up with the class.

I also got a very personalized tour of the school. At the end of the tour, Max reluctantly gave me a quick hug and kiss goodbye, under the watchful eyes of his class-mates— "this is so uncool!"

I am so very happy to have attended Grand Friends Day. I am privileged to be Max's grand friend. I do feel magnificent and exalted and of great importance. Mostly, I feel loved.

In time, may fortune smile at me so that I may meet your children and proudly claim my role as female ancestor.

Love,

Mom

God also lives in Illinois

Dear Son,


Dad and I rode an 18-wheeler today... 2 wheels at a time.

The Sunday Riders started out with 9 bikes today. You remember that this is the gang that we joined 3 seasons ago. Dad and I look forward to good weather each week so that we can "get on our bikes and ride!" This is what gets us through the weekly drudgery that we endure for the necessary paycheck.

It was a glorious fall day ... sixties and sunny. As we headed west, love songs and hymns caroled in my head. I could feel undulations and vibrations from the road, from beneath the soles of my boots up to the depths of my soul. I was cruising effortlessly up to 90 mph with my newly installed windshield, thanks to your wonderful father. Does it ever get better than this?

Oh yes, indeed it does.

We gassed up in Mt. Carroll and proceeded into God's country. The roads became twisty and snaky and hilly; even almost mountainous, by Illinois standards. Don't forget that we live in a state where we can drive hundreds of miles within 0.05% gradient without turns... or so I used to think, up till this past weekend. Son, we have a corner of twisty heaven in the northwestern region of our great Land of Lincoln.

We rode on a roller coaster named Country Roads 4, 7 and 15 leading into the town of Elizabeth. I had to lean left, and then I leaned right. I had to downshift, and then I up-shifted. I had to remember to breathe as I maneuvered 60-mph turns on manicured, banked curves through Wisconsin-like bucolic vistas. There was no room for mental love songs or hymns or ponderings. I could barely hear the roar of the engine over my heart drumming against my chest.

This may be our last ride this season. But what exhilarating, life-affirming last 336 miles they were.

Thanks, Neil and Ben and the rest of the Sunday riders for a great season.

So many roads, so little time.

Love,

Mom and Dad

Remembering Veterans Day

Excerpt from Naperville Sun

Rotary Hill will be covered with American flags during the week of Veterans Day. From Nov. 8 to 14, the Exchange Club of Naperville will fly 2,009 flags to honor the men and women of the military.
Individuals can present a flag to display and take home or donate to next year's event. It costs $30 to order an American flag, $35 to order a flag with an honor tag. The deadline has been extended to Oct. 30.
Related events on Rotary Hill include a Tag a Flag Ceremony from 12:30 to 3 p.m. Nov. 8 and a Veterans Day Observance at 11 a.m. Nov. 11.

"In memory of Scott Biesterfield U.S.M.C. — Love, Dad"


This is the inscription of a flag dedication that I read today.

Your dad and I visited Rotary Hill in downtown Naperville. It was covered with 2,009 American flags, waving in the wind in neat rows. This was Naperville's Healing Field of Honor in observance of Veterans Day.

The Healing Field program started out as a way to commemorate the lives of those lost to us on September 11, 2001. Since the first Healing Field display in 2002, hundreds of communities across America have hosted a Healing Field or Fields of Honor to raise money and awareness for a growing array of causes.

These special displays of fields of American flags have helped to honor the sacrifice of our service men and women, raise awareness for the tragedy of child abuse or domestic violence, honor veterans past and present, raise awareness for heart disease and cancer and more.

As tears fall uncontrollably, I am thanking God for you. I thank God that you still play Manhunt and tag. I thank God that you are not serving in the military. I thank God that you are safe. Selfish... I know.

As we celebrate Veterans Day, I would like to humbly thank all the Scott Biesterfields there ever were. Those who never came home, those who did, and those who are still out there. I especially want to thank their dads and their moms, their wives, husbands, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters. Thank them all for the sacrifices that they have made and that they still make every day... sacrifices that the rest of us could not even begin to understand.

We stood there among the flags, with only sounds of their flapping in the soft zephyr... and we cried.

Love,
Mom and Dad