The Northward Contrail

Summing up

I figured 2011 would be a year for regrouping and rebuilding, and it turned out to be exactly that. For that, I am grateful. Some things that happened in the second half of the year were overdue and, though not always pleasant, were exactly what I needed. Out of it I gained new perspective, a change of focus, and reordered priorities. On the professional end of things, I rearranged my responsibilities and undertook a deep career assessment that could possibly lead to something extremely wonderful, and (with the exception of one element that I hope gets fixed soon) I'm happier and more comfortable with my job than I've been in a long time. Financially, I shed an old, bothersome debt and put together a five-year budget that, if I'm able to make it stick, will mean new opportunities - including the fulfillment of a couple of deeply meaningful, long-held wishes. It'll take some work, but I love a challenge.

There's been adventure, too - I've been fortunate to see Alaska again, spend more time in Seattle, and have a hundred smaller adventures in among those. Any year when your travels span from Fairbanks to Fort Lauderdale is not a bad one. I've spent time in wonderful places and enjoyed the company of some fine people. I have been blessed, and I am grateful.

This trip around the sun has been a good one. I'm ready to do it again. I hope your 2012 is as good to you as 2011 was to me.

(Financial) house in order

I've spent time the last few months trying to get my life in the shape I want it. So far, so good. Some of it has been stuff I've physically done, and some of it has been a change in perspective. I didn't seek to do the latter; it just happened. I've come to realize what matters, and all that good stuff.

The other day, I decided it was time to sit down with my spreadsheet and play with some numbers. I developed a five-year budget. I like this budget. It's ambitious, but I really believe I can do this. If I hold to it, I'll have everything short of our mortgage paid off much, much sooner than I'd imagined I could. And that will be a very good thing, indeed. It will open doors to a lot of new possibilities.

Something else good? Some key relatives gave me cash for Christmas. It wasn't a huge amount, but it wasn't anything to sneeze at. I took it down to the bank the other day and opened a savings account. That money is just going to sit there for a while minding its own beeswax, and from time to time I'll transfer in a little more, as I'm able. I don't know what I'll do with the money down the road, but frankly I'm not interested in "what are you gonna do?" deal. I just like knowing the potential is there, and how that makes me sleep a little easier at night. 

This budget I've developed will require serious discipline. It's like losing weight (and that I know, for I've been through serious weight loss); you have to develop a plan, and you have to develop the discipline, and you must resist temptation. But the goal you set will be so totally worth it. I'm grateful I've done this; I just wish I'd done it sooner, but at least I did it now. In a few years, the future will belong to me,  not my creditors.

That's gonna be so awesome.

Travels with hubby

So I've mentioned we spent the week before Christmas down in Florida, doing some visiting. I hadn't been that far south in four years, and hadn't been to Florida itself in close to three. It was overdue, I think.

We left a couple Fridays ago, spending the night in Daytona Beach on the way down, then going the rest of the way the next morning. When we hit the Florida line, it didn't take long for me to remember how I-95 through Florida has mostly this sun-bleached, worn look. Many stretches of it look exactly the same as it did when I moved there almost a dozen years ago, but those stretches are becoming fewer and fewer. Development has taken root in once-forsaken places, and you're seeing civilization in places that were once deserted. It was interesting hearing hubby, whose family moved to Florida in the early '70s, compare how it is today to how it was in the '70s and '80s. It ain't the same, not at all.

By the time we were in Broward County, my memories of the place had come flooding back. There was a little nostalgia as I saw familiar places, but there were also definite reminders of why I left and didn't look back. So much I saw, I didn't miss. I didn't miss the traffic, the crowdedness, the development, you name it.

We got to where hubby's mother lives, and from then on, we were taken care of. We didn't want for anything the length of our stay, and that was nice. She made sure we had plenty to eat, and we spent a lot of time visiting. I'd brought a lot of work with me to get done, and a couple books to read, expecting the time to be sort of slow. As it happened, I had to pull myself away at a couple points so I could get my work done. It was indeed a pleasant visit. The weather was very nice the whole stay, only getting bothersome the night before we left, when it got humid. The rest of the time, it was lovely blue skies and mid-70s.

Not all our time was spent there. A couple days, we went out and explored. Hubby went looking for the places he grew up and showed me other places he remembered. We drove around the local airports, watching airplanes and seeing what had changed. We visited the hobby shops, finding one had changed drastically since our last visit and the other as remembered. And we made the all-important pilgrimage here. And it was good. Very good. If there's one material thing I mourn every time we have to leave South Florida, it's that we have to leave that place behind. That's how good it is.

Thursday of last week, we loaded up and started the journey home. We reached Daytona Beach early afternoon, had some lunch, and then spent a couple hours cruising around town seeing what's changed. In some ways, this stop on the way home was the most fun. Hubby was in the midst of the most time off work he'd had in a while, and he was in very good spirits, happily exploring a town he knew well and telling me tales from his days there. He was happy and I was happy, and I was reminded how much I love having him. It was one of the most blissful things I've enjoyed in a while. We retired to our hotel room and spent the evening watching television and finishing off the baked goods his mother sent home with us. (Tough job, but someone's gotta do it.)

Next morning we woke up and completed the journey home. I'd had a great time, much better than anticipated, but it sure felt good to get home. The mighty tiger and the mountain lion were happy to see us. Though my folks had come over to look in on them at about our trip's midpoint, both feline critters were starved for affection. Before we even got near the door, we could hear their meows...uh, I mean, "roars" even in the garage. We couldn't unload the truck all at once because we had to come inside and let them love on us for a little bit. They spent the rest of the evening being very clingy. It's nice to be wanted.

After the week's travels it felt great to spend a night at home, in all the familiar comforts you leave behind, to go to sleep in your own bed and all that. Next morning was Christmas Eve, and hubby spent the whole day baking. I spent most of the day making sure the young and very inquisitive mountain lion stayed out of his way. Everything got done, and it was good.

Christmas day came. After exchanging cards and gifts, we got ready to drive over to see my family, and got there about lunchtime. After so many days of sweets, I wanted to sob when I was finally able to eat something salty and savory, as some things were in the spread my mother laid on. We did the gift-giving thing (and my nieces really cleaned up, for my parents really love to spoil their grandchildren), then spent some time over at my brother's. Then it was back home.

One more day with hubby at home. Monday was quiet, very nicely so. He'd enjoyed his time off and shed a lot of stress. I was happy to see him so laid-back, and it was a little sad to have to let him go back to work. But it's part of life.

The next day came, and he went back to work. I woke up, had a normal breakfast, did my normal morning routine, and then went off to do the errands that had gone undone for too long. No more sweets, no more unusual routines, none of that again for another year. In some ways, I'm glad to let it go, and there was a little bit of satisfaction in getting back to a normal routine and getting some things done that needed to be done. But I do have to say the last two weeks brought more unexpected enjoyment than I've had in a while, and I'm thankful.

On days that start getting longer again, eventually

We're back from our trip, and done with Christmas for another year (and I hope to have more to say about both in coming days; the trip ended up being better than I anticipated, while Christmas Day itself, while not exactly like the one I wrote about yesterday, wasn't bad either). I've always thought it a little sad that there's such a buildup to Christmas, and then it's gone. The handful of days between Christmas and New Year's Day are always a time I enjoy, because you're just playing out the string before hanging up a new calendar and everything begins anew.

It's in that spirit I offer this essay about my favorite Christmas-themed television special, courtesy the folks at the AV Club. For me, the really moving part came with these words in the closing, which resonated with thoughts I've had about life's melancholies and minor keys, and the glimmers of light in life's darknesses:

A story doesn’t have to have actually happened to be true. Every word of the Christmas story doesn’t need to be literally accurate for its underlying sentiments—peace and hope and joy—to still speak to us, just as no one would ever argue A Charlie Brown Christmas is non-fiction, but it touches something deep and true in many of us. The great old Christmas carols—“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” or “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” or “What Child Is This?”—are all in minor keys, because they express the world’s longing for something better. Yet life will never be perfect. Even when that something better comes along, the minor key never really goes away, just as the melancholy never quite seeps out of A Charlie Brown Christmas, even during the sing-along at the end. But where those songs and the Bible verses that inspired them look to the heavens for the miracle that will lead us forward, A Charlie Brown Christmas invites us to look to each other, to gather together during the darkest nights of the year and create our own kinds of light. The days will start getting longer again eventually. We just have to wait.

The long-lasting Christmas

Christmas was yesterday. It's one of a few times in my life it's been on a Sunday. For the most part, they haven't been that memorable, especially the older I get. Once you get past a certain age, Christmas just isn't what it once was; although you still get some enjoyment from it, you don't have the wide-eyed wonder for it you once had.

There are a few Christmases from childhood I remember vividly. But for pure enjoyment, I believe my tenth Christmas is the one I remember with the most satisfaction. Every year, my brother and I would get a spending limit. If we didn't exceed that, we were okay by Santa Claus. In previous years, I'd look through the Sears catalog (remember Wish Book?) and find lots of things I thought were neat.

But that year, I wanted a computer. Maybe in my heart of hearts, I wanted one of these (as I used at school) or one of these (which I always thought looked way cool), but they were far beyond what my parents were willing to spend. I'd made a futile effort earlier in the year to save up for one of these, but gave up when I actually got to try one and found how unsatisfying it was. But in late 1983, K-Mart was running an unbelievable sale on these: $88 each. One of my teachers swore by his brand-new C-64 (whose introduction had sparked the blowout prices on the VIC-20), so I knew Commodore made a good machine. I therefore put that on my wish list for Santa. Also on the list were several old-time radio cassettes from a mail-order catalog. I forget what else I asked for that year, but those in particular stand out. Just before I went to bed that night, my father told me to bring my little black-and-white Zenith up to the den so Santa could work on it during the night.

Now this was the next-to-last Christmas before all our gifts were wrapped and we'd have to wait for our parents to wake up. This was back when we'd wake up on Christmas morning, go to the den, and find the things for which you'd asked had magically appeared around the tree during the night. When you're a kid, "magical" is the only thing to describe that. And so it was that morning when I awoke to find on the coffee table my little Zenith attached to a brand-new VIC-20. It was all mine, all ready to go, and even had a few game cartridges and paddle controllers too. Also under the tree was a cassette case containing all the old-time radio cassettes for which I'd asked. Oh, it was a glorious day.

I've had many Christmases in my life, but I can't think of many whose bounties brought such long-term satisfaction. For years to come, I'd spend hour after hour hunched over the keyboard of that VIC-20, playing games or coding BASIC programs into its tiny memory, only to be wiped when I turned the thing off. I didn't care, though. I had a computer and I was happy as could be. Often I'd while away the hours of coding listening to one of those cassettes, teaching myself BASIC while happily living in yesteryear. It was great.

I've gone through many computers since then, but none of them have the place in my heart that little Commodore does. I still have that VIC-20, still in its original box, with all the cables and the switch box for the back of the television, the power supply, everything. It's been through a lot, but the last time I fired it up, it still works. And I still have all of those cassettes, too. They all are reminders of what, for me, was probably the most satisfying Christmas morning I can remember.

Christmas Eve, a little early

The calendar has pulled a trick on us this year, and Christmas Eve is on a Saturday. Therefore, my annual Christmas Eve post will come a day early. I go back to it every year, but this moment in history is more powerful than anything I could come up with myself. Merry Christmas, y'all.

A new year and new projects

Another year's close to being in the books, and I've accomplished a lot. Maybe not as much as I would have liked, but I set my sights high anyway; still, I look at what I've done this year, and though I'm aware of where I fell short I'm still happy I got as much done as I did.

I used to look at each new year with a little bit of dread, because it felt like starting over again. It's completely psychological, because it's not like you wake up on the first of January and everything's suddenly a different color. For whatever reason, that's not bothering me this time around, and instead I'm looking at the new year as a chance for new opportunities, and new projects I've wanted to do for a long time.

There are some big things I want to do - this coming year, for instance, is when I hope to finally close the deal on flight training, and I've done just about everything I can to this point to make sure it happens. After the first of the year, that's when I can finally make it real. So that's the big thing. But there are other, smaller projects to which I'm looking forward. There's certain kits up in the stash that I've sort of promised myself as new projects. This new year, finally, it'll happen, I tell myself.

As for work? Well, coming into the new year with everything all planned out will take out a lot of stress. But there are new ideas I want to try, and I hope by the Fall term things will be exactly where I want them. I'm hoping, for instance, to finally acquire a gizmo or two that I've been wanting, and the ability to use that kind of technology in the classroom will simplify things an awful lot. Between that, and the quiet confidence I have in my ability to do my work, things should be better than ever.

Once upon a time a new year would fill me with dread. For whatever reason, 2012 doesn't, and I'm looking forward to this new sheet of paper. For a new sheet of paper allows you to draw whatever you want on it.

There's a beautiful vale in Alaska

During last December's adventure I picked up a copy of Evangeline Atwood's We Shall Be Remembered, which tells the story of the Matanuska Colony. One of the appendices has a poem I've come to love. Here's Don Irwin's ode to the laughing river in the beautiful vale, surrounded by a few rocks I collected from its banks back in August.

(Incidentally, this is also an excellent time to remind you of this marvelous documentary and its companion DVD set. I have both, and highly recommend them.)

Change of venue

You'll recall this time last year I was about to leave for Alaska. Years of prompting, that I really needed to see the place in winter if I wanted to see if it was more than puppy love, finally led to me buying the ticket and taking the ride. Of course, I loved it. What I didn't love was the journey itself, nor the brevity of the stay. Two days in Alaska bookended by a complete day of travel on each end (oh, and along with a string of delays on the way out) is no way to see the place. It doesn't leave much room for enjoyment, yet somehow I managed to pack an awful lot of fun into that whirlwind tour, and in spite of all the hassles I still look back on it with fondness.

This year's December adventure isn't as poetic. While Alaska is a place in which I'd love to live, Florida is a place I actually have lived, and although I look at it as more like "I survived it" I still have some good memories of the year I lived there. It's the first time I've been there in five years, and there's some morbid curiosity about how much will be different this time. After all, Fort Lauderdale is a place where, if you stand still for longer than 20 minutes, they'll staple a building permit to you and start building the scaffolding.

Last year's adventure was, for me, about as pure an escape as you can imagine. I'd had an incredibly stressful end to the semester, and the opportunity to put 4000 miles between me and my troubles was about as pure a blessing as you can imagine. This year, there isn't as much stress, and I'm taking some work with me, hoping to use the downtime and the change of venue as inspiration. If all goes well, my Christmas gift to myself will be completed syllabi, rewritten lecture notes and assignments, and a completed annual report. That way, I'll be able to enjoy the rest of my too-brief winter break, and then my classes will be a matter of just flying the plan I've filed. That will be very nice indeed. (As I'm fond of saying, I like to front-load my stress; that way, it's over with first, allowing me to enjoy what's to come.)

One of these years I'll take another winter adventure to Alaska. The difference will be that I'll plan it better, do it on my own terms, and not try to cram it into a tiny window between Winter commencement and Christmas Eve. (There will also be a stop-over in Seattle on the way back - which all future adventures northward will have, if I can help it - but that's another story.)

This year, though, it's something a little less poetic, but I'm certain the change of venue will do me some good, and the completed work I hope to bring back with me should do an awful lot to make me happy, as well.

Mountain lions and Christmas trees

Each year since we moved here, we've had a Christmas tree. It's been the same little three-foot tree hubby bought at a discount store one Saturday while I was away at some function. It's a cute little tree, and every year it's grown a few more ornaments. (It's now to the point that we're considering a replacement tree, just because we're out of room for ornaments.)

Every year we've put that tree up, but this year we're not going to. Travel's part of the culprit, but the main reason is the new cat. He's young and muscular, and most of all full of mischief. There's not a ledge or a shelf or anything he's not determined to explore. We had been putting the little tree atop a couple of bookcases, well out of reach of the Mighty Tiger. Since the Tiger is...shall we say, "full-figured," there's no way he can leap up there, and the older he's grown the less he's felt the need to explore like that anyway.

But the new cat, who fancies himself a mountain lion, is young and wants to explore. It took us all of about three seconds to figure out that the moment we put that tree up, it'd be a fiasco. Be it the cat trying to chew on the branches, or whacking ornaments around, or trying to eat the lights or chew through the power cord (and that's a problem we're having with the little one, for he likes gnawing on cords), the hassle would just be too immense.

It's not that we don't have Christmas spirit this year; come around on the 23rd and watch hubby at work in the kitchen and you'll find otherwise. This year, the lack of apparent visible Christmas spirit has nothing to do with grinchiness and everything to do with keeping a young and very curious cat from using up his nine lives.