Tag: traditions

What Do Writers Write, When They Haven’t A Clue?

What do writers write about when they have no clue what to write about? What words hit the page, when there is no event to cover, public interest or personal thing that lends itself to writing a story? That is exactly what this story is going to investigate.

Of course, I say Writers, loosely. Mostly this applies to one lost writer I know.

I sit at my computer, brainstorming over ideas of nothing. The little voice in my head rehearses that writer’s mantra of “Writer’s Write,” so write something. Write anything! Certainly, there must be something of interest for me to put words on paper.

My writer friend, Phil, who seems to never lack for something to write about, of course, that is pretty much all he does these days. I still have a “real” job as my husband would tell me. If it were up to me that would be my only “real” job, but finances just do not follow inline for me. Anyway, he asks me every time I see him, “So what have you been writing lately? I haven’t seen any posts from you.”

I need more rocket events; I always write about them when they are in season. Unfortunately, Rocket Season just ended for the spring. Only the big boys that we take to White Sands are left to be tested at the end of June. I have been doing pregame on that event, but I cannot launch those yet. Pun definitely intended. I love Rockets, and I had to get it in there somewhere. But as is the usual schedule of events, after June, I have no more rockets and sadly my enthusiasm seems to wane. So, in answer to his question, “Not a whole lot. Some poetry here and there. A fictional story once in a while. Oh, I did a devotion for our Lenten book at church. Does that count?”

I told him, I would love to travel and write about where I travel. He asks, “ Why aren’t you doing it?” Same answer, “Time, money, PTO, did I mention money.” Yup it’s a rut!

Now here I am, trying to at the very least write something. And here is the best part. I love having spell check and an editor, but can’t it just leave me alone until I want it’s help? I don’t even know what I am writing about! What do I care if it is correct at this point?

I am sitting here trying to figure out where to go from here, tapping inertly on my keyboard. When a story I saw in the Daily Update of the Fredericksburg Standard comes to mind, and I wonder why, now? Here is the answer, and it is something to write about, however briefly.

The band is reviving the Cake Walk this Thursday, at the Farmer’s Market at Market Platz. Actually, it is TODAY! They have asked for percussion alumni to come play the old traditional cowbell cadence. As I ponder for ideas, I realize my inert drumming is that very cadence. Not surprising, since old Bandies tend to revert back to what they know.

The Band Cake Walk hasn’t happened since the 1990’s so I am told, but I was a very young child when I really remember attending the event. I do remember making a pink carousel cake with Peeps animals for horses. I was very proud of it at the time. It was the only decorated one I recall taking to donate and be judged. No, if memory serves me, it did not place.

At the time I recall it used to take place right where Adlesverein Halle is on Market Platz. That corner was a community baseball field at the time. I do remember having fun as a child. By high school it had lost it’s luster. I was a teenager, and both my mother and grandmother made wedding and all occasion cakes for the public and I was forced to help. I hated it. Little did I know I would spend 13 years setting up and delivering cakes for Sophie’s Choice Bakery later in life. My Oma would have been thrilled. She always told me, what you throw away the farthest is what you pick up first. Well, it wasn’t first, but I did pick it up and actually enjoyed it then.

I do intend to attend tonight’s event. I am curious, and nostalgic. I want to hear the cadence. As for the cake walk itself, I will watch, past that I have not decided, only time will tell.

Most of what I have found to note on paper today, probably won’t be of interest to folks not from old Fritztown, but you know what? That is ok. Heck it might not even be entertaining to them. But you know what? There are words on paper. Honestly, that was my goal.

So, I still don’t really know what to write about, but I did have fun rambling around. I hope you enjoyed it. Perhaps I will try to do it more often. You know, make it a thing, titled, “What Do Writers Write About, When They Haven’t a Clue?”

Christmas Open House

Christmas Open House

Some families celebrate on Christmas Day
As do we in many ways,
But for me Christmas Eve is the traditional part
And it is there that I find my heart.

On the twenty-forth we can all be found,
In my parent’s house gathering ‘round;
Putting finishing touches here and there,
On decorations and food and getting it all prepared.

By evening time the house is bustling,
Full of family and friends each room is bursting;
There is joy, laughter, stories and more,
And listen, the bell, there’s more at the door.

The kitchen counters are lined with food galore,
That won’t run out because the ‘fridge has more;
And while we eat we enjoy the beautiful, tall tree
With its lights shining bright and festively.

Before we gather round to open the gifts,
Prayer, song and praise to our Lord our voices do lift;
And from the Bible we read from Luke 2,
The story of Jesus born for me and for you.

There are kisses, and hugs and greetings for all;
There’s visiting, music, and games in the hall;
In the back room amateur musicians sometimes play,
Bringing life to Christmas Carols in their own way.

It’s a Christmas gala brimming with life,
Where all is joy and none is strife;
Where the reason for the season shines through
In love and joy that is true.

So each Christmas Eve as this open house begins
And we prepare our hearts to greet family and friends
This Christmas tradition brings us all cheer
Knowing it will be spent with loved ones all near.

Day 222-Christmas Magic

When I was very young, my parents celebrated Christmas with us, steeped in German traditions that brought life and magic to the holiday. They went over and above in order to make the magic of Christmas real.

In our home the big celebration was an open house at my mom’s on Christmas Eve. On the 24th the house came alive with family and friends. There were decorations, a huge tree, tons of food, drink sweets, music, gifts and fun.

For us, the kids, all the wonderment began on Christmas Eve morning, but for my dedicated parents, the work began late on the 23rd. You see, my parents sent us to bed around nine o’clock on the 23rd in a house with not one decoration or obvious sign of Christmas, no tree, nothing.

When we awoke on Christmas Eve morning, the excitement and magic of Christmas had arrived at our house while we had slept. We came down the stairs to air-filled with the wonderful aromas of food cooking for Christmas Eve dinner. The house was decorated, and in the living room, was a Christmas tree that stood from floor to ceiling tall and almost as big around. It was fully adorned with decorations. In those days, the decorations consisted of beautiful glass balls and birds, golden garland, silver tinsel, and old-fashioned bubble lights, along with hundreds of colored twinkle lights which were ringed in little plastic star bursts. It was gorgeous, like a Christmas card in our living room. And best of all there were gifts of all sizes under the tree.

We were allowed to peak at the tree, but then the doors were closed and we weren’t allowed in again until time for gifts and guests. When we were older, we could help set the dining room table which was next to the tree, but we were not allowed to snoop around the gifts. Of course we couldn’t help but try to see names on the gifts as we worked, in such a way as to not get caught snooping. That was a tedious endeavor, I assure you. As soon as our work was done the door was closed again, and we were back to waiting.

The best part of this whole thing was the knowledge that Santa Claus had done it all, the tree, the gifts, decorated the house. He and his elves had been here while we slept. I know what you are thinking, “But Santa doesn’t start delivering until Christmas Eve.”

Well that’s right, but Christmas Eve starts at midnight, and it takes him all day since there are so many children in the world. And since he knew we had our Christmas that day, my parents had a standing agreement that he would come by our house before daylight on Christmas Eve.

I think the must have given him fresh turkeys for his Christmas table from my dad’s turkey farm each year to seal the deal because they quite often, got him to do special favors like this.

I remember quite well one of those favors he did for them. I was very young, perhaps 5 or 6 that particular Christmas. The day had transpired as I described previously. The extended family was there. We had read the Christmas story from the Bible and opened all our gifts.

I had wanted a bicycle that year, but there wasn’t one under the tree. We had begun to entertain guests and eat food. General merriment was being made all through the house; there was laughing and stirring but thankfully no mouse.
About half way through the evening, the door bell rang, as it had been doing all evening to announce more guests. I was told to open the door and so I did.

Outside on the step, there stood a brand new, red bicycle with training wheels. No one was there with it. Everyone I knew was in the room behind me watching. I heard jingle bells in the distance, and I searched the sky but never saw him, only heard the sleigh bells. Santa had made a special delivery, and was quick to be on his way so that I never saw him. I was excited and disappointed all at once.
I’m still not sure how my parents and “Santa” pulled that one, off and to this day, those who know aren’t talking. I do know it was probably the most exciting and memorable Christmas ever. The magic couldn’t have been more real that year. It was wonderful and fun.

After my special delivery had been safely ushered through the house to the utility room, where it couldn’t break anything if it fell over, the party continued as before. I looked out the window and up at the sky often that evening, never quite sure how Santa could get away so fast, and secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of his sleigh somewhere in the sky. I never saw it, but then that’s what made it magic.