However you spend this Christmas day, whoever you choose to spend it with – or without – if it is a day framed by worship or introspection, celebrated with giddy, big eyed children, more laid back adults, or in contemplative solitude, whatever the place, weather, absence or presence of religious observation, I wish you all peace, joy, and love. Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good day!

Jill Nelson 12/25/09 – The blog with the musical notes!

A few days ago, my mother’s cookie press, the kind that you fill with chilled dough, insert a cookie shape in the nozzle, and wield over a cookie sheet like a caulking gun, fell apart in my hands. The truth is, I’d seen disintegration coming but ignored it. Or maybe not quite: in the recent past I bought a more modern cookie press at a yard sale and tucked it, unopened, on a high shelf for future use, hoping the future never came.

Until it did, I resigned myself to re-attaching the threadbare top of my mother’s press – the one she pulled out every Christmas and made cookies with her four children - to the wobbly handle every few cookies. I adjusted to a tired, worn out plunger that never seemed able to pres out that last inch of dough. Then the handle literally broke off in my hand, a hand that was, by the way, a strange aluminum color from screwing and re-screwing the top of the press, and that was it. When I looked at the partially filled cookie sheet I had to admit my press was so worn that all my cookie shapes – Christmas tree, star, terrier, snowman – looked like manatees.

It was probably a good thing that my friend from Washington, D.C. was in the kitchen, too, laughing, talking, and looking a bit incredulous as I labored to hold that old press together, otherwise I might have fallen apart too. I lost my mother some years ago and it is still difficult to relinquish those things that were hers, as if in doing so I lose, bit by bit, who she was. This gets better over time. People die. Things fall apart. Yet the essence of who they were remains alive, not in the things they left, but in the memories and thoughts and love left behind. I retrieve the unused press, load it with chilled dough, insert a shape. This new press requires only one hand and spits out perfectly shaped cookies like one a tennis ball machine, bap, bap, bap. Slather with red or green sugar or multi-colored sprinkles, bake for 10 minutes, they taste just like the cookies my mother used to make, the ones we used to bake as children. And why not?

Jill Nelson 12/18/09 – The blog with the musical notes!

I jerk awake hours before dawn, yanked from sleep by dreams of war, hunger, the melting snows of Kilimanjaro, Joe – let’s kick him to the curb - Lieberman, myriad other terrifying visions cobbled together from real world horrors. As often, the anxiety that awakens me is free form, non-specific, a part of the apprehension, impotence and hopelessness that, like muzak in the elevator or shopping mall makes up the troubling background of life.

My friends and I are joined in a tacit, unspoken conspiracy of silence about these feelings. We do not talk directly about our anxieties, as if giving voice to them will make them even more real and frightening than they already are. Instead, we cut our anxiety into digestible pieces – trouble sleeping, no appetite or too much, obsessive exercise or none at all, lethargy, no holiday spirit – and deny the whole cloth. Funny, just a few years ago, during the bubble that was the good old days, we were also mostly silent, too. But then it was the smug, self-satisfied quiet of property values, the stock market, 401 K’s, whatever piece of the American dream we’d latched on to gone up, up, up. Where it would stop, nobody knew. Now, we do.

Yet even as we are scared silent the white noise of the irrelevant is jacked up, drowning out our ability to think our way out. For the past few weeks the Ballad of Tiger Woods has drowned out the debacle of more troops and billions to Afghanistan, the urgency of climate change, increased violence in Iraq, the arrogance of the banks taxpayers bailed out, increased foreclosures, joblessness, the failure of social safety nets, disappointment in President Obama, disappointment in ourselves. These unsteady days, the only certainty is that next week it will be someone or something else that doesn’t matter dominating the so-called news, feeding our impotence and distracting us from what is important. This time a year ago I was exhausted but hopeful that a change was gonna come beginning January 20. Now I’m still exhausted and careening toward hopelessness.

I have never been a big holiday person, this year least of all. Luckily, most of the people I love do not need anything. Or what they do need – their house refinanced, the economy to recover so they can stop working harder for less, that old standby, peace on earth – I cannot give them. Instead, I will support writers and independent bookstores and give books that entertain, educate and affirm, buying two of each and giving one or both away. I will send what money I can to the local food pantry, an arts organization in my community, an organization that provides housing for the elderly, a scholarship fund for students committed to social justice, a check to a young mother of two juggling family, home and grad school. In these times no amount is too small.

Taking action, however small, is the gift I give myself. My way of grabbing life and steering away from hopelessness toward re-invention and action. These books and small donations will not change the world but will, hopefully, help a few lives, not least of all mine. The gift is breaking the conspiracy of silence. It is a start.

Jill Nelson 12/15/09 – The blog with the musical notes!

Would you buy your ‘ex’ a Christmas gift from your children?

Marvelous, magical, miraculous…don’t you just love Christmas Day? Well, I certainly do! The magnanimous spirit of the season seemed to have grabbed me yesterday as I stood in a crazy-long line at the grocery store to buy the forgotten can of cranberry sauce, of course. As I moved closer to the check-out and drifted out of my ‘me-me-me’ world, I began to sense an undercurrent of joy and anticipation wrapped within each holiday remark exchanged between the sales clerk and customers. I, too, had such pleasantries of patience—such saintly behavior amidst the holiday rush.

Although I didn’t acknowledge it then, the spirit of the season tapped me again when I ran into L’Occitane to purchase an annual gift for my ex-husband. There I was standing in front of a display shifting my weight from side to side deciding whether to get him the verbena shower gel & lotion set or the verbena shea butter soap & exfoliation scrub, when a delightful salesperson with a familiar spirit asked to assist me.

She quickly assessed my gift needs with a few questions so I eloquently ran down the facts: Who: Ex-husband. What: Body Care Products. Why: Christmas gift from children. Price: $50-$75.  Other: I needed something personal yet practical. This was an annual gift from a store I love, a product he appreciates and my daughters always love to give. As her eyes bulged I wasn’t sure if I was giving her ‘too-much-information,’ so I provided a quick disclaimer of how my ex and I are now, eight years later, honest friends/co-parents.

She was deeply intrigued and instantly blurted out “Oh my God, that’s wonderful. My parents have been divorced for twenty-five years and my mother would have never even considered even being in the same room with my father, let alone a gift. Even now she can’t!”

As we picked gift items, she declared from her experience with parents and friends post-marriage friendships are such a rarity. She commended me on providing my children with balance and preserving the family unit for them. An undeniable tingling sensation began to rise in my spirit (not to be confused with the anxiety from the last minute shopping.) I was truly moved by her generous words that hid her personal pain so much so that after my purchase, gift wrap and all, we embraced and I thanked and wished her well. Although we’ve worked diligently to establish common ground, it’s just a gift, no love given or lost! Right?

Weigh in on this one–give or give up?

This year I’m giving myself a gift for the holiday. I’ve donated to organizations that help people in need. My family and friends? They don’t need anything or what they do need – a loving partner, their mortgage paid off, restored health – I’m not able to give. This year I intend to give a gift that is at once simple and difficult: Jump off the information highway for one day. No internet, newspapers, television or radio. No news, if not exactly good news, isn’t bad news either. There is still, I believe, something to be said for peace and quiet. That will make me happy.

On a long walk Christmas morning appreciating the magic of nature. At home reading, not the usual non-fiction, but a novel celebrating the possibilities of imagination. At dinner with family and friends, sustenance both literal and ephemeral. My gift to those I love? Being present, with them, in that moment. My gift to myself?  The luxury of a day in my own life, in my own head, of meditation, rejuvenation, and joy. A day without news surrounded by loved ones.  In these times defined by anticipation, anxiety, apprehension and excitement, on this one day, simple pleasures are the best. (Check out links, all music today!)

Wishing you all the best.

Jill Nelson 12/25/08

It’s seven days before one of the most significant gift giving holidays of the year and let the truth be told, my children, your children, god-children, or somebody else’s children could be expecting gifts to be stacked up and piled high under the tree. Why not, isn’t that how we did it last year and prior years in what seemingly supported their ‘more, more and more’ mantra and endless gift list? If you didn’t, many of us joyfully overindulged and often over spent all in the name of giving or guilt! Just think, how dare our family not have the Wii system?! Like it or not, this type of behavior has naturally gravitated or inadvertently encouraged our lovely little ones and certainly our tweens to think outside of the B-U-D-G-E-T.

To no fault of their own –especially in this day, time and economic climate– I’m inclined to ponder if parents are sitting down with their children to truly explain this newfound ambiguous ‘B’ word that halts their splurges and may limit their holiday gifts. Put away your ‘supply and demand’ chart, don’t financially fear factor the babies nor should you create a sense of scarcity, however age appropriate cost-conscious communication may prevent a lot of foot-stomping and door-slamming frustration on Christmas morning.

In my family, I prefer a team approach. Since the unnecessary drama and undue stress of flustered tweens don’t mix well with my nerves, I’ve taken a proactive approach with setting holiday gift guidelines for my eight and eleven year old daughters. First of all, there isn’t a written list or circled items in a retailer’s toy book! That is wayyyy too much! I’ve reiterated our need to stay within our family budget yet explained we will get the things we really want – no stocking stuffers, no frills. The rules were simple—quality over quantity! Each desired a ton of stuff, but could only have three that would make their Christmas. Beyond their three personal gifts, they could also pick one family gift for entertainment. Although they huffed and puffed, each narrowed her choices and they’re looking forward to a perfect Christmas morning, done. The effort was inclusive and became a matter of choice, their choice with my financial parameters!

What was your holiday gift giving strategy for the little ones in your life and what will you say if they ask…”where are the rest of the gifts?” Ready to say the ‘B’ word, now?

So I need all of your help. This is actually what you would call a desperate plea. Gift giving is approaching fast and this year I’m determined not to spend what I don’t have but how can I not? I have family and friends and then those that I know are going to give me something and they all needing gifts. You know those people you’re not close to, may hardly know, but feel obliged to give to because they are going to give to you. There’s simply not enough money this year to get gifts for them and all the family I do love. Do I save face or save heart in these tough times?

How can I take and not give? There’s nothing more humiliating than the moment when someone gives you a gift and all you can give them back is a guilty thank you. Oh the pressure. Should I send out a mass email begging everyone to not buy me a thing? But then what if I buy for them, now they feel awkward?? AHHHH. I hate this holiday. Easter is so much easier and cheaper.

 There are 17 shopping days until Christmas and my denial that the day of reckoning is coming isn’t slowing its approach, so I’m motivated today to ask for advice. What are those of us low on cash but filled with the spirit going to do? I can’t afford a host of gifts and pay my mortgage, but I don’t want to look like a scrooge either.

This year should I take the thought that counts approach and just apologize for not giving (talk about depressing) or spend what I have to show those that I love (or at least those I’m sure are going to give to me) that they are the reason for the season?