Why I Love to Hate Christmas.

10. Crowded Malls.
Yes, this may be possible to avoid. However, each year with a approximately 1 to 2 days before the ho-ho man comes down the chimney, I find myself in the same position...at the mall running around, trying to find the perfect gift for everyone. I need to start shopping online and just have everything delivered.

9. People asking you what you want for Christmas.
Sadly, gone are the days are making a list for Santa Claus which included things like fire-engines, nerf guns, and super soakers. Today I'm much more practical. I need a tires for my car, someone to come clean my room, a new razor, a gold plated toilet, and $1,000,000 in small unmarked denominations...you know, the simple things.

8. Babies...Crying Babies.
Normally I don't mind the crying child in church or out at the restaurant, but why is it around the holidays, no matter where you are...there is a crying child. Not just crying, screaming at the top of its lungs, and all Mom or Dad does it pat the thing on the back and tells it to hush...Obviously not working chief, give the kid a Quaalude and knock it out.

7. Christmas Music. (Except for a few choice songs)
It's good to hear Alvin and the Chipmunks for about .5 seconds.

6. Relatives that visit and see your room as the Holiday Inn Express.
"Sure, we would love to have you visit! There's plenty of room."
Not really Mom/Dad, year after year, my room has been offered to family members from out of town to stay in...where do I sleep? The couch in the basement. Not even the couch in the living room, because: "People may want to get up and watch TV in the morning." But what the hell, there's a continental breakfast in the kitchen in the morning soooo....


5. Christmas Lights.
Sure they look nice, but how the hell did they get up there? This year I found myself scaling our bi-level colonial on an ancient 15' aluminum ladder like spiderman just to reach the last hook to put up the good old white C-9 GE bulbs...I almost killed myself.


4. "Happy Holidays!"
What the hell happened to Merry Christmas. Now I know not everyone believes in the Baby-JMan, the far star in the east, frankincense, gold,myrrh and all that jazz...but hey if you wanna say Merry ChrisMaHanuKwanzikah, or whatever it is you believe in, by all means go ahead.


3. Wrapping Presents.
I can't fold my own clothes. How do you expect me to neatly wrap presents? First off, it's a waste of paper, all you do is tear off the damn stuff anyway and throw it out. I was "green" way before my time one year and wrapped everything in the comic section from the Express-Times...I still hear about it.

2. Stores that won't give you a box.
"Sorry, we're all out of boxes." What? are you serious? So now I have this lovely Cardigan sweater I bought someone and you don't have a box for it to go in? You've got to be kidding me.


1. People who take your spot in church.
This is a sore subject for me. Normally, I roll out to church about 10mins prior to kick-off. Christmas Mass? Forget about it. We have to leave the house about 45 minutes early just to get some random spot in church. Now I know not everyone goes to church every weekend, hell...I'll be honest I sometimes even don't. But please, this is my spot, you can stand in the back.


Hey everyone, this is just a list I came up with, most of it isn't even serious. I actually love Christmas. I think it's one of the best holidays of the year. There's just something about it. I love spending time with my family, even if they take my bed, I love hunting for the perfect tree and savagely hacking it down...It brings out the inner lumberjack in me. From me to you, Merry Christmas...Happy Hanukkah...Merry Kwanzaa? Whatever it is you celebrate, I hope it's great.

Merry Christmas!!!

Homecoming

I drove up the wide street, with everything still the same as it has been in my memory. My street is wide, with single moderately sized homes spaced evenly on either side. The large oak, elm, and maple trees had all but already lost their leaves. I pulled into my normal parking-spot right in front of the green full hedges that guard our driveway. I got out of the car and walked up the long driveway, past the light that's always on when Mom knows I'm coming home. I walked into the foyer greeted by the large grandfather clock that I saw so many times when I snuck home after late nights when I was in high-school. The big hand stretched across it's face indicating it was 9:02, the Westminster chime bellowed through the house...I'm home.


It's been a tough week for my parents and family, with my younger-sister losing one of her high-school classmates after a tragic illness and the loss of a family friend, AMT2 Jason S. Moletzsky who was tragically killed when his C-130 Hercules aircraft collided with a AH-1W Super Cobra off the coast of California. I could see it on their faces and in their eyes, it had been a long week. Mom and Dad had just returned from the service in Norristown for Jason. Although the grief and sorrow was evident, they were happy to have me home. I don't come home often, but when I do...my parents are happy to have me home.

As I walked through the dining room and into the kitchen, I placed my bags down next to large wooden table cluttered with my younger sister's homework. I walked into the florescent lit kitchen and greeted my father. Now for as long as I have known my father, he has never used much profanity besides a dammit here and a hell there if you can even consider that profanity in today's society, so what he said next really struck me.

He shook my hand and told me:

"Jarrett, do your four years and get the hell out, you can't get f****** killed, I can't do what those parents had to do today."

The first thing home my father told me was not to get killed. I was kind of blown-away at first and didn't know what to say. I'm sure I responded with something along the lines of " Dad, I'm not gonna get killed." Now I don't know if my family reads these, but if they do, Mom and Dad...my intention is not to get killed. My intentions are to serve my country with dignity, honor, and courage...to do my duty to the best of my ability.

My parents worry about me a lot. Ever since I signed my contract with the Army, all the way to today when there is a report of a soldier killed in combat or lost in action I flip the channel or quickly change the subject. It's my way of trying to diffuse the situation.

It's only natural for my family to worry, but in the next breath my parents are quick to tell me how proud they are of me and I thank them for that. Ever since I was a young boy, I've always tried to make my parents proud, and it's good to know that they are.