Christmas with the Avey Family

The first day of the year holds mixed emotions for me. It’s the beginning of a new year, but it’s also the day that my family and I traditionally take down the Christmas decorations. That always makes me a little sad.

Doesn’t it seem that all the buildup and hype for Christmas sometimes leaves the actual event a little flat? You work hard to get everyone the right gift and then the presents are ripped open and it’s over.

Well actually it isn’t. And if you celebrate the true meaning, it won’t be flat at all. During the New Year’s Eve service at church -- Asbury United Methodist Church https://asburytulsa.org Pastor Jay Henderson reminded us that December 25^th isn’t the end of the Christmas celebration, but the beginning. The Twelve Days of Christmas, also known as Christmastide and Twelvetide, begins on December 25 and ends January 5. This is followed by the festival of Epiphany – also Theophany, or Three Kings’ Day, which celebrates the manifestation of God incarnate as Jesus Christ to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi. The four Sundays before Christmas, the buildup, is called Advent, a season of prayer and fasting to thank God for Christ’s first coming, His presence among us today through the Holy Spirit, and to prepare for His second coming at the end of time.

On the other end of the spectrum, while driving to the bowling alley one night during the buildup, my son, David and I drove past a house that had a reindeer in the front yard. Not an actual reindeer, but one of those wire/plastic, kind that are popular during Christmas. And that was it. No other animals graced the artificial herd, no lights clung to the house, no decorations laced the trees or shrubs, no inflatable Santa climbing into a hot tub with Rudolf or waving to the crowd while piloting a tractor; just a lonely reindeer, its tiny, white lights casting a soft glow across the lawn.

In keeping with the spirit, my sweet wife, Kathi, schemed up an idea to liven up the season by making our own Christmas cards.

“I’m going to buy Christmas shirts,” she explained, “and we’ll stand in front of the tree and take selfies with my I-phone.” 

With good reason, I expressed skepticism for the outcome of such a plan, but finally relented and agreed to go along with it. It won’t be so bad, I thought, imagining Kathi would procure sweaters created in somewhat tacky but tolerable Christmas motifs. However, upon completion of her limited-use clothing expedition, she further dampened my already unenthusiastic expectations by proudly presenting David and me with green, elf t-shirts. All was not lost. The menagerie of photographic selfies that ensued confirmed a suspicion I had been harboring: I-phones, and probably other smart phones as well, collect images and later use them against you. In trying to impose a timer upon the phone, we angered it into producing unimaginable shots in rapid bursts of ten, depicting us in awkward poses that could not have been of our own doing. In one, my head appeared to be spinning like Linda Blair’s exorcism, in another I was hunched over with arms dangling like Cornelius in Planet of the Apes. It was all good. I hadn’t laughed that hard in years.

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https://www.amazon.com/Bob-Avey/e/B002BM2VJ8

Twisted Perception is now out in audiobook. Please click the link below:

https://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Perception-Detective-Elliot-Mystery/dp/B00XZKFWDM/ref=la_B002BM2VJ8_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1502197925&sr=1-3

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This article was written by Bob Avey, author of Twisted Perception, Beneath a Buried House, and Footprints of a Dancer. http://www.bobavey.com

 

 

What happened to Christmas

I don't usually repost the same content on various sites -- okay maybe I do at times -- but I like this one:

Dreaming of a White Christmas

A few days ago, on the way home from work, I was coerced into shopping. My wife, Kathi, had been scouring the town, looking for something to wear to our company Christmas party, (They now call it a Holiday party) and she wanted to check a certain discount store. Knowing that if given a choice between the two, I’d choose to suffer through reruns of I Love Lucy, Kathi had called her sister to share in the experience. However, since dear sister was unavailable, I was called to task.

I entered the domain of doom, clutching a copy of Writer’s Digest, hoping to sit with the magazine in the waiting area and pull myself into its pages. At best, it was an ill-fated attempt. As writers, we observe our surroundings, but for some of us, once the switch is thrown it’s difficult to turn off. I glanced at the smartphone in my hand and I was reminded of a conversation I’d had with a dear friend, Valerie Gawthrop. “So much has changed since I first began writing,” she’d said. Her elegant use of understatement overwhelmed me, and I removed my attention from the pages of the magazine.

Something in a language I could not understand, which, to me, more resembled chanting than music, played through the intercom system, echoing through the rows of shabby clothing, where shoppers, some with desperation in their faces, some with anger, and still others with indifference, searched through the rubble, hoping to find that rare gem, a blouse with its buttons intact, a dress with no missing sequins. An elderly lady scooted past with her shopping cart and smiled. It was all I could do to keep from crying.

Things have changed all right, Val. Who among us veterans of the pen would have ever, in our most outlandish imaginations, dreamed that in our country someone’s grandmother would be reduced to this, or that a store would be worried about or afraid to play the music of Christmas?

Merry Christmas everyone, and may God bless.

Please check out my new website: http://www.bobavey.com

It's the same address, but I've had it revamped. I think it looks pretty good. What do you think?