Shades of Love

Shades of Love

Melissa Dallago

            Love is the greatest, most wonderful emotion that mankind has; it motivates us, it consumes us, it drives us to distraction, it is both a sickness and a cure, it is unconditional, it is nurturing, it is everything and all that truly matters. 

            Love comes in many shades, kinds and variations; it is a universal emotion that each and every one of us understands.  It brings us together, drives us apart, conquers vast divides, and empowers us to perform unimaginable feats. 

            Love of family is the strongest and most enduring kind.  The love of a parent for a child is intense, protective, grand, and perhaps the most powerful force on earth.  It has been said that loving a child is like having a piece of your heart existing outside of you.  The love between a parent and a child is intense, everlasting and above all unconditional.

            Love between siblings is equally as powerful and binding.  There will always be someone who understands you, loves you, accepts you, and has been with you through all of your highs and lows.  The love between siblings is also unconditional, because even if you don’t see eye to eye, you still love them because they are family after all.

            Love between friends is supportive, understanding, and compassionate.  It endures no matter the distance or time that passes.  Friends bonded together are true to each other in good times and bad.  They offer a shoulder to lean on, a person to laugh will, or just a quiet presence of someone who cares.

            Love between humans and animals are another special pairing.  Our pets are our friends through thick and thin.  Their love is unconditional and a strong bond of mutual affection, soft fur and times of play and laughter abound.  It is truly the love of an animal that can teach the meaning of unconditional love and acceptance.

            The love between two people who find their way to each other on their journey through life is one of partnership, mutual respect, endearment and a deep passion for one another.  To share a true love with another is to achieve a wonderful bond, one that hopefully is unbreakable and forever. 

            These are the different shades of love that we experience as we travel through life, but one shade of love that defines them all is “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails.”  It is love in all of its forms that bind us together. 

Technological Nightmares

I have always considered myself pretty savvy when it comes to technology.  I understand the fundamentals of how computers work and I can function in Microsoft Windows 8 without an issue.  I was proud of myself on the day I set up my first Wi-Fi network, although it took me half a day of scratching my head and reading the directions repeatedly, but once I got it up and running my internet hummed along quite nicely. 

I’m even capable of hooking up a small entertainment system that includes a DVD player, cable box, gaming system and television without too much trouble.  I was able to install, play and thrive in an online computer videogame.  My addiction of choice was World of Warcraft, which I played incessantly for over five years.  I have since retired from the online realm and have re-engaged in “real life”, as we gamers like to say, because it is infinitely more interesting than the pixelated world created on my computer monitor (see I do know techy words!).  Based on these achievements I thought that I was advanced enough in technology to be able to survive in the environment; at least I thought I was until this past weekend when I felt like I was starring in a Star Trek episode exploring where no man (excuse me, woman) has gone before. 

Right after Christmas my boyfriend David and I decided to upgrade to a DVR system to record our favorite shows, and TiVo was our service of choice.  At first it seemed like it would be very easy to install TiVo and upgrade our system, but boy were we wrong.  This “simple project” has since evolved into a living technological monster that lurks in the wires and Wi-Fi system in our electronics; it is the proverbial “ghost in the machine”. 

In going through this process I have learned just how much of a technological nincompoop I really am, which trust me is not good for one’s ego.  Just in the past week I have learned about N-routers versus G-routers, Z-waves versus broadband, infrastructure networking upgrades, bytes, bits, data, fiber optics, broadband, terabytes, petabytes, yottabytes (yes it’s a word, Google it if you don’t believe me), gigabytes, terabytes, TiVo, Sonos sound systems, calibrating Wi-Fi routers, USB cords, fire wires, parallel ports, upgraded, downgraded, quad cores, Fios, and the holy grail of internet speeds, 75 megabytes per second.  I’ve learned so much that my head is ready to explode! 

We’ve also had the old standby of screaming in frustration over a pixelating television screen, spending hours and hours on the telephone with customer service trying to “just make the damn thing work,” and cursing streaks that would make a sailor blush!  My head is spinning from the technology nightmare that we have entered. 

The outcome after all of these efforts is that TiVo does in fact work, but our picture quality is horrible and our Wi-Fi is on par with an asthmatic ninety year old trying to run a marathon.  Our Smart phones have become dumb, our Wi-Fi routers now suffer from an acute case of attention deficit disorder (huh, what, you wanted to actually go on the internet now), and our security system has taken an extended coffee break; basically nothing is working right, but at least we have TiVo.  Whew!

In my opinion its rather comical how in our technologically advanced world when you try to upgrade one portion of your system, everything else is knocked out of whack.  The systems don’t want to play with each other, let alone share, electronics just decide to stop working for no apparent reason, and sometimes I feel like my Droid DNA is just throwing a temper tantrum on par with a three year old.  I am now afraid to push any button, let alone the infamous red one, in case I hear an announcement that “this system will self-destruct in 15 seconds”.  The bottom line is we are not out of the technological woods yet, but we are hopefully seeing a light at the end of the tunnel; its either that or an approaching blue screen of death!

Throughout this whole endeavor, David has been valiantly fighting the technological monster that is lurking in our house.  He has beaten it into submission several times, but it has not yet been vanquished.  There is still plenty of reboots, re-configuring and recalibration going on to keep him busy.  I’ve pretty much just given up hope that our system will just work, but my honey, being the networking and computer genius that he is, has not yet given up on beating the monster once and for all, that or at least declaring a truce. 

The moral of this rant is this: no matter how much we like to consider ourselves as technologically advanced with our smart phones, laptops, z-waves, and what have you, when it comes to actually trying to make these wonders of modern technology work and integrate into our lives, we are no better than primordial man trying to make fire.  We like to think that we are the masters of technology, but I think, like in the movie The Matrix, we are slaves to the machines.  Ain’t technology grand!  

Tolerance

                                                           Tolerance

We recently had a group of protesters in Safety Harbor that caused quite an uproar between people of opposing political viewpoints.  This is what I posted in response to some of the comments that were being made....

The old adage, "it takes all kinds to make the world go around" is especially appropriate to the events that occurred in Safety Harbor yesterday.  I will tell you from the beginning that I do not agree with those people at all.  If I had been in the Harbor yesterday and came across their table I would probably have quipped some snarky remark such as there are more horses’ asses in the world than there are horses and moved on.  I would have been upset with their statements and signs, but I also know that nothing that I could have said would have changed their opinions and beliefs.

For the record, I used to be a staunch supporter of George H.W. Bush.  He could have done no wrong in my eyes.  I supported him blindly, and was a good little Republican Party member.  I used to proudly state my political opinions to everyone who would listen to me, and there were numerous occasions when I went toe to toe arguing with protesters who were protesting the wars in both Iraq and Afghanistan, and then one day I picked up a book that opened my eyes.  That book was 1776 by David McCullough.

To those who may not have read it, it chronicles the struggles of our Founding Fathers as they tried to find a way to create a country from nothing; a country that was based on independence, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  I will acknowledge, although not discuss it here, that of course there were economic reasons for independence, and of course there was the issue of slavery, that frankly is a terrible blot on our history, that the Founding Fathers took into consideration, but more importantly they had a grander vision.  The country that we proudly call the United States of America is a result of their hard work and dedication to creating something bigger and more meaningful; a country based on those principals stated in the Declaration of Independence and the preamble of the Constitution. 

After finishing 1776, my appetite for knowledge grew and I devoured every book and article I could lay hands on; no subject was beyond my reach.  I took Benjamin Franklin’s advice, “[that] the only thing more expensive than education is ignorance” to heart.  I even struggled with economic theory when the housing bubble popped and I realized just how bad our economy truly is.  I don't profess to be an expert on any subject, but I am comfortable enough with my knowledge to be able to make rational decisions.  In other words, when the proverbial "s***" hit the fan, I didn't run around screaming my head off that the sky was falling, but instead I turned to books written by scholarly authors, read the actual bills being put forth by the House and Senate (even though they didn’t), and picked apart the executive orders being created by Bush and Obama.  I educated myself to the best of my ability about the subjects at hand, and that is where my belief, as the Founding Fathers believed, that an educated populace is the best hope for our country.  I also grew up politically speaking.  Instead of attacking someone for not agreeing with me, I developed a tolerance for those people that some may deem as "yahoos".  My political opinions became something that I guarded very closely, and I still do. 

I'm sure that I will be attacked by those who disagree with me for what I have said in this post, but before you vilify me, the author, I ask that you just pause for a moment with your hands poised over the keyboard and try to take in the spirit of what it is that I am writing here.  I do not agree with group that was here yesterday, but I do respect their right to speak their beliefs.  I agree to disagree with them, and move on with my day.  Others will voice their opinions to their faces, and I respect them as well.  We certainly need to stand up for what we believe and not be cowered by those who happen to disagree with us, but it is my opinion that through patience, respect and tolerance of opposing beliefs that are based on reason, facts and frankly reality, that a middle ground can be reached and true progress can be made. 

Just so we're clear on my political stance, I am a registered Independent who voted for Obama.  I did not base my decision on party affiliations or the bromide spouted by the candidates.  I voted for Obama after much deliberation, research and thought on my part.  I will also proudly say that I am a staunch supporter of education, reason, common sense, and active involvement in the governmental process.  We need to speak our opinions and beliefs; yet we also need to be respectful and tolerant of each other because after all wouldn't you agree with me that it is through the debate process that the work of our society really gets done!

I will close with a quote from my favorite Founding Father, Ben Franklin, "The best thing to give to your enemy is forgiveness; to an opponent, tolerance; to a friend, your heart; to your child, a good example; to a father, deference; to your mother, conduct that will make her proud of you; to yourself, respect; to all men, charity.” 

Rise!

Rise!

Melissa J. Dallago

Batman has been an American icon for well over fifty years.  He has spawned countless comic books, movies, cartoons and television shows.  Everyone knows Batman, and while they may not have watched the shows or read the comic books, they know that he is the rich playboy Bruce Wayne, who likes to dress up as a bat at night while he fights crime in his hometown of Gotham City.  

Batman has always been my favorite comic book hero.  I grew up watching the live show of Batman starring Adam West.  I enjoyed watching Batman chasing the Joker, lusting after Catwoman, and sharing boyish banter with his sidekick Robin.  I cheered for Batman when he bagged the bad guys, and I loved the goofy special effects that happened during the fight scenes.  The show had a campiness about it, but, in my opinion, it only added to its charm.  As I grew up, I remained connected with Batman.  I devoured any comic book that I could lay hands on.  I sat raptly for hours on end watching Tim Burton’s Batman movies, and childishly cheering at the screen when I saw Batman save Vicki Vale and put an end to the Joker.  We had a dry spell for a few years, but thanks to Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy, the bat is once again large and in charge.

I enjoy the Batman character because he is a superhero who isn’t really super.  He doesn’t have powers that he was born with, a la Superman, or bestowed by a spider bite, a la Spiderman, and he isn’t the victim of some genetic mutation, a la the X-Men.  Batman is an average guy who can suffer horrible injuries and even die in heated battle.  Yet, to me, something about his averageness makes him stronger than the man of steel, more adept at fighting crime, and more willing to sacrifice for what he believes in.  Batman is just a man, but he is a bad ass just the same.

Batman is the way he is because his parents died in a horrific tragedy that left him an orphan under the care of the family’s butler Alfred.  He was forced into a realm of anger and darkness with the loss of his parents and as he grew into a man, he was horrified with the wrongs and injustices that were being perpetrated by the criminals on the innocent.  He channeled his anger that was raging inside him, and harnessed it into a higher ideal to fight crime, bring down the bad guys, and instill a sense of hope in those suffering in Gotham City.  Batman is a masked vigilante; a presence in the night offering a safe harbor to those who are lost, suffering and in danger, and most importantly, Batman is a symbol that strikes fear in the hearts of the criminals.  Batman accomplishes all of this, and so much more, by sacrificing himself to a higher ideal.  He is a symbol of greatness, a bright beacon shining in the dark night; a symbol that offers hope to all.  Batman is the Dark Knight, who ironically, shines a bright light into the darkness of which he is a part of. 

Batman is relentless in his quest to stop injustice; he fights his nemeses with every shred of his being, and even when it was clear that he is outmaneuvered or not going to win the contest, he somehow always does because he never stops hoping.  Hope is what makes Batman the best superhero there is.  With his sacrifices, Batman gives the people of Gotham City hope; to me this is what Batman truly represents, hope persevering and rising from the darkness that surrounds us.

I recently watched the last installment of Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy.  I have watched each movie and been emotionally moved.  Nolan portrays the dark side of Batman.  He reveals the true darkness that lurks in the world, and demonstrates the inherent goodness that exists within all of us.  He portrays Batman as a true symbol of goodness.  With these movies, Nolan was successful in returning America’s icon to his rightful place, and most importantly Nolan depicts Batman as a mere man struggling under the weight of tremendous forces, but never giving up hope. 

I wish that Batman wasn’t just a comic book character; I wish he was real, made of flesh and bone.  I think we need a real Batman to be that symbol of hope in a chaotic dark world.  Batman is known for swooping in in the nick of time to save the day, and I wish that he had been there on that terrible day in Sandy Hook Elementary in Connecticut to save the 27 souls who needlessly lost their lives, but then again, maybe Batman was.

After all, what about the school principal who lunged at the gunman to try to stop him and lost her life, what about the survivors who remained calm in the face of a madman, what about the teachers that barricaded themselves and their charges into closets and corners and kept them focused on coloring to provide a buffer from the living nightmare surrounding them, and what about the small boy who was brave enough to tell his teacher that he knew karate and it would be okay.  Yes, I have to say that the essence of Batman was there that tragic day because somehow they never gave up hope that the good guys were on their way. 

Batman is an American ideal, a symbol.  To me, Batman represents truth, vigilance, relentlessness, justice, honor, empathy, compassion and loyalty.  Batman may not be a real man dressing up as a bat to fight crime, but the spirit of Batman, the ideals he represents most certainly do exist.  As said by Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins, “I’m going to show the people of Gotham that the city doesn't belong to the criminals and the corrupt.  People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy.  I can't do this as Bruce Wayne.  A man is just flesh and blood and can be ignored or destroyed.  But as a symbol... as a symbol, I can be incorruptible, everlasting.” 

The ideals that the Batman symbolizes reside in all of us, we just need to be reminded of them, and believe in ourselves.  We stand up for what we love the most, fight for ourselves, our families and our friends, we trust in those who deserve it, we honor our ideals and morals, and we respect each other even if we may not agree.  Evil and the darkness will always be around us as unfortunately that is part of life, yet what is most important about what Batman symbolizes is hope and goodness, and that hope is something that we must never, ever lose.  We must have hope in the goodness of ourselves and each other. 

As long as we have that, then just maybe this world could become a little more secure, a little more calm, and most of all, it could shelter and encourage the highest and best that is within us.  Like the survivors from that horrible day, they never gave up hope in the face of the gates of hell that had opened around them.  Batman was there that horrible day, as he is each day when darkness encroaches in our lives.  And much like the tag line from the Dark Knight Rises, hope has been temporarily lost, our faith may be broken, but a fire has risen in us.  Like Batman we must rise above the darkness, surround ourselves with goodness and love, and most importantly we must never give up hope in believing in something bigger than ourselves, a symbol like Batman, one that stands for inherent goodness and a belief that light will always overcome darkness.  Rise! 

The Art of Silence

The Art of Silence

Melissa Dallago

I always struggled to silence my cluttered, voice filled mind, until I learned the art of silence from the unlikeliest of sources, a lioness named Kia who was kept at my local zoo.  I visited the zoo often and would always see her, but I only stayed for a moment before moving on to the next enclosure until the day Kia did something amazing.

That day when I arrived at her enclosure Kia was napping, yet she must have sensed my presence because she woke up and looked directly into my eyes with a concentration I had never seen before.  I was paralyzed as I stared into her deep amber eyes.  She held eye contact with me constantly and was not distracted by any activity.  The voices in my, that had been noisily chattering away before, paused.  As we continued with locked gazes, my inner dialogue was quieted due to my sheer awe at the majesty of the stunning golden lioness staring directly into my eyes and into my very soul.  Kia was the epitome of stillness, silence and grace personified in a living, elemental being, which were traits that I had been struggling to learn.  Before I knew it the minutes had become hours and the next thing I knew the zoo was closing.  As if realizing our time was over, Kia rose and walked to the door of her night enclosure.  During that afternoon with Kia all of my worries, stresses and fears had receded and I had unknowingly entered a calm and meditative state communing with her.

I began to visit Kia on a weekly basis.  I looked forward to my time with her because I learned how to calm my inner voices, and achieve a state of silence in her presence.  Time passed and Kia has moved on to the Great Savannah in the sky, but I continue to find silence in my mind when I need it by picturing Kia’s golden coat and deep amber eyes staring into mine; and that is how I learned the art of silence from a lioness.

Christmas “Pet”astrophes

                                                               Christmas “Pet”astrophes

                                                                     Melissa Dallago

Christmas is the time of year for the gathering of family, the sharing of gifts, and watching as five pounds is added to your waistline due to all of the delectable treats of cookies and sumptuous food.  I have many wonderful memories of sharing Christmas with my loved ones, and watching their faces light up in delight from that special gift I picked out just for them.  Yet, the memories that I treasure the most involve my childhood experiences with my pets during Christmas time.  When I was growing up we had eight cats and a large German Shepard named Luke, and I speak from experience when I say that having pets during the Christmas season presents its own unique challenges.  To pets, especially to cats, Christmas time is a wonderland of new experiences that provides shiny tinsel to be chewed, trees to hide and climb in, wrapping paper and bows to be played in, and dangling ornaments that invitingly beckon to the wandering paw and wet nose; however, it is the Christmas tree that offers the most fascination and is often the source of all the trouble caused by pets.

My earliest memories are from when I was six years old and we had gotten Luke as a puppy; it was his first Christmas.  Luke was moderately interested in the tree as Mom decorated it, but he pretty much stayed out of the way, and after hours of meticulous work the tree was a vision of pure Christmas beauty.  After we had all gone to bed, we were suddenly awoken by a tremendous crash from the living room.  Mom flew out of bed expecting to find someone breaking into the house, but instead found the Christmas tree lying in a heap on the floor; ornaments were scattered and broken everywhere and the lights were a tangled mess, and poor Luke was huddled in the corner with tremors of fear shaking his body.  He was clearly the cause of the tree falling over.  It appeared that Luke had gotten overzealous in his sniffing explorations and had nosed the tree past its tipping point causing it to fall over.  He looked sorrowfully at Mom as she stood over him shaking her head.  Fortunately, the tree had had a soft landing so the branches were in good shape and we still had enough ornaments left after the crash.  Mom knew that tree was at risk for another fall because Luke was a puppy after all, so in stroke of genius she put the Christmas tree in my little Red Flyer wagon and redecorated it to its former glory.  For the rest of the season, Mom wheeled the wagon and tree into my room and closed the door whenever there was a chance that Luke would be left alone with the tree for an extended period of time.  It was quite a spectacle to witness the Christmas tree procession each day with Luke chasing after it trying to bite off the ornaments as Mom wheeled it up and down the hallway.  The wagon worked because the tree remained vertical for the rest of the season. 

The next Christmas Luke was a full grown dog and Mom, not wanting to tempt another tipped over tree, opted to place it on a table where it would be well out of his reach; however what Mom wasn’t counting on was our new cat Colby.  Colby was a gorgeous gray cat who was bursting with energy and, like any normal cat, had to explore every nook and cranny in the house.  Much like the year before Mom spent hours decorating the tree and it was perhaps the prettiest tree that we ever had.  I have an image in my mind of Mom standing there smiling, basking in the glow of the beautiful tree, while behind her sat Colby with the glowing Christmas lights reflecting back from his saucer shaped eyes as he stared at the biggest cat toy he had ever seen.  Once again, after retiring for the night, we were woken by a thunderous crash that rattled the windows.  Mom leaped out of the bed in a flash and with Luke running at her side as if to say, “See Mom, it wasn’t me!” found the Christmas tree lying on the floor in utter ruin after it had fallen four feet from the table.  Branches were strewn everywhere, and glass twinkled from the many broken ornaments, and there was Colby reclining on the couch, the picture of pure innocence, but Mom knew he was the culprit because he was covered in tinsel and pine needles from his climbing excursion.  In a repeat of the year before, Mom once again resurrected the tree, and redecorated it with what little ornaments we had left to a bit of its former pre-Colby glory.  Mom then, in another stroke of genius, blocked off the tree on the table with a green plastic fence in the hopes that it would deter him from trying to climb to great heights once again, and that is how our family tradition of placing the tree on a table and fencing it off our pets was born.  As I child I learned to appreciate the Christmas tree from a distance and the fence certainly didn’t prohibit Santa from leaving me an ample supply of gifts to open on Christmas morning.

For the rest of my childhood we did not have any major “pet”castrophes involving fallen Christmas trees, but we continued to deal with other pet caused calamities.  Over the years we continued to extract a yowling, sap covered cat from the higher branches of the tree because they had gotten stuck and couldn’t figure out how to get back down.  We always had to redecorate the tree after they removed the ornaments that weren’t to their taste, and we continued to have to pick out the occasional cat and dog toys they added to the lower branches.  We would constantly have to chase Luke out from under the tree as he tried to drink the tree water, and the cats loved to wrap themselves up in the tree skirt.  Each year we routinely played hide and seek with the ornaments that they stole from the tree, and the cats showed no mercy when it came to our nativity set.  There were always wise men and sheep missing, but never the baby Jesus fittingly enough, which we wouldn’t find until June of the following year.  And of course when it came to wrapping Christmas presents we always had to contend with claws and teeth.  It took hours to wrap and it wasn’t because of the sheer number of presents, but because we spent so much time chasing the dog as he stole a roll of paper, unraveling cats from the ribbons they had gotten tangled in, and rescuing the errant cat who happened to get a piece scotch tape stuck on their paws as they walked through the whole mess.  I can’t count how many times my hand were attacked by a stalking feline playing hide and seek amongst the paper rolls and gifts.  We think of it has work, but to pets the wrapping of Christmas presents is their next favorite thing after destroying the tree.  It has been my experience that you can always tell the gifts that are from people who have pets; the cat or dog fur in the tape is a telltale sign, and the wrapping paper usually has a couple of claw and teeth marks added for good measure because of course the little darlings want to add their own touch to the season of gift giving.

These childhood memories always make me smile, and I have learned that having pets during Christmas definitely makes it more challenging, but also more memorable and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  As an adult I now have my own two felines Padauan and L.B., who thankfully do not cause near as much Christmas trouble as the pets I had growing up did.  They both like to lie under the tree pretending to be Christmas presents and only occasionally bat down an ornament.  Even though I have not had any recent Christmas “cat”astrophes, I still have not let my guard down.  I can see the gleam in L.B. and Paduan’s eyes as they stare into the Christmas lights, and I know a part of them may be plotting the greatest Christmas debacle yet.

Holiday Stress

Holiday Stress

Melissa J. Dallago

The calendar page has turned; it is November 1^st.  We stand at the threshold of the holiday season.  Thanksgiving is a mere 3 weeks away and there are only 53 days until Christmas.  Households are beginning to plan the what and wherefores of the season.  To do lists are being made, budgets planned, menus are being decided upon, and children are plotting their Christmas wish lists.  The stress level has begun to build as people envision the insurmountable mountain of food, gifts, and parties, and all of the work involved in preparing the perfect Thanksgiving and Christmas.  November 1^st marks the beginning of the deepening of worry lines, the pulling of hair, the raising of voices, and the rise in stress levels for what is considered to be the most wonderful time of the year.

I stand on the precipice of this torment with feelings of anticipation and excitement, mixed with a healthy dose of fear.  I have weathered the holiday season every year unscathed because I have never been responsible for actually managing it.  I have been a bystander, who has to deal with the stress of finding the perfect gift and navigating through the crowded stores, but I have never had to, gulp, cook a turkey dinner; and guess what, this year is my first year in making a turkey dinner for Thanksgiving.  Whenever I think about this heavy responsibility my blood pressure goes through the roof and I break out in a cold sweat.

I can picture myself standing in my kitchen on Thanksgiving morning in total confusion.  Where do I start, are there Venn diagrams and flow charts describing how to cook a turkey?  How do I prepare the stuffing, and how the heck does it actually get stuffed into the bird?  You expect me to do what with the gizzard?  How exactly does one make mashed potatoes from scratch?  Can’t I just use the kind that comes in the box?  What makes cranberries red, and how do you get the red stains out of your clothes?  What temperature does the oven need to be and, most importantly, how long do I cook the bird?  How does one keep the cats from trying to scratch their way up my legs as they go frantic over the smell of fresh meat?  How does one pry her boyfriend off of the couch and get him to stop watching the football games so he can actually help me!?  How did my mother manage to do this every year, not once, but twice?  Can I go cry quietly in the corner because I can’t take it anymore?  These are the questions that flood my mind, and make me wholeheartedly regret my decision to try to cook a Thanksgiving dinner! 

Then my true nightmare is that by sheer will and a major miracle I somehow succeed in cooking the turkey and all of its accouterments.  I can’t vouch for the flavor, but they sure do look normal.  The table has been set and everyone is sitting in anticipation of the meal.  The star of the show, the turkey, sits there glistening on the carving board.  I stand over it in pride with the carving knife ready to slice into it.  As the knife oh so gently punctures the flesh all I hear is the release of hot air and watch in horror as the turkey deflates before my very eyes; the reason for this is the fact that my turkey has been cooked for too long at too high of a temperature (damn Goggle!).  The turkey has become a dried out husk.  The only thing that is holding it together are the bones, hot air and some sort of optical illusion from the other food dishes placed nearby, something with heat and light combined with seeing what one wants to see.  We all stand there with looks of disbelief, staring at the deflated carcass of the pseudo-turkey.  I then imagine the howls of horror from my family as they realize that we will not be eating turkey for dinner this year.  Somebody quips, “Does anybody know if the pizza place is even open today?”  This scene has become my nightmare, and I’m afraid that it could become a reality! 

I’m not sure if these are the standard thoughts for someone who is hosting their first Thanksgiving, but I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink until the deed has been done.  I am resolved to pull off the best Thanksgiving I can; I fear no turkey!  I will conquer the challenge placed before me, with my mom’s help of course.  I’ll be fine, right?!  Should I be concerned about the nervous tick that has mysteriously appeared whenever I think about the holidays?

So as I stand here on November 1^st during the quiet before the holiday storm, I am taking a moment to reflect on what I am thankful for because I know when I get mired down in the act of cooking I’ll probably forget why I decided to do it in the first place.  The one thing I know that I am thankful for right at this moment is that Thanksgiving is still three weeks away.  I am also grateful that I don’t have to cook for Christmas; my mom is shouldering that burden.  For Christmas I’ll be able to resume my bystander role, and be there to offer a helping hand when needed.  I am also thankful for my family, and the guidance that I hope, pray and beg, my mom will be providing as I wrestle with an eighteen pound turkey, they are after all why I decided to host Thanksgiving in the first place.  So with recipes, advice, and “Here Comes Santa Claus” rattling around in my head, let the holiday stress, I mean season, commence!

Finally, and most importantly, I believe I know why we put ourselves through all of this stress and angst for the holidays.  We do it out of love for our families and friends.  We want to create a warm, wonderful and loving experience for those people who are dear to us.  We are creating memories, smiles and laughter.  The memories of seeing the surprise on someone’s face as they open their “perfect gift”, the warm feeling of love we have from being surrounded by our families and friends, and the smiles we will have in the years to come as we remember holiday seasons gone by.  Ultimately, we fret and worry over the smallest detail because the holiday season is the one time of year when our homes, neighborhoods and communities all gather together in the common spirit of joy, humility and love.  Thanksgiving and Christmas are truly the most wonderful time of the year, even if we do get more white hairs and stress lines for our efforts!