Christmas Wrap-Up From '08-'09!

Man, I talk about being all good and posting this year's Christmas narrative, and then before I know it three weeks fly by. Oh well, better late than never, I suppose!

Since I live in Minnesota and my family lives in Illinois, I had to get a considerable amount of time off from my job in order to visit them for the Christmas holidays. I thought that this would be a problem, seeing as I have to coordinate work schedules at two locations, but it turned out not to be an issue at all. I would leave Monday night after work (11PM) and return for work on Monday the following week (before 2PM). That would give me almost a full week to spend with my family. Happy times!

I packed my van in the afternoon and left straight from work, taking sunflower seeds and two Extra Strength Five-Hour Energy along with me to keep me awake. I had plenty of music along as well, because, after all, this was going to be a seven-hour drive. Things went smoothly for the first forty-five minutes, and then I hit my first snag - I had no music.

The music set-up in my van is a bit unorthodox. As I explained in this post, my van doesn’t have a working sound system; I use computer speaker hooked up to a converter that runs off my cigarette lighter outlet. Since I moved, those speakers have been moved to my desk, and a new set of Audio-Technica speakers are now in my van. The problem is that the power adaptor for those speakers is so large that it occupies the space of the other outlet, which is where I would normally plug in my iPod. My 6GB iPod Mini no longer has any amount of usable battery life left, and thus has to be plugged in all the time. I thus had a problem: I needed both the iPod and the speakers plugged in to have any music, and I could only plug in one at a time. You’d think I would’ve noticed this problem and solved it before I set out, but, alas, I didn’t. So I didn’t have any music.

The driving nonetheless went smoothly until I got to about 150 miles west of Madison, WI, where upon I hit a snowstorm. Speed was universally dropped to below 50mph, and I and a bunch of trucks puttered through Wisconsin at two in the morning. The wind was blowing snow everywhere, and I couldn’t see anything save for the truck in front of me. To make matters worse, trucks would pass me and kick snow up into my windshield, further restricting my vision. This storm lasted for about one hundred miles, and then lifted. But the worst was yet to come.

I could see a little bit better now, but I still had to follow the ruts made in the highway snow by the trucks. These ruts were the only clear spots of pavement on the highway, and I decided it would be a good idea to stay in side them. Then a truck passed me, kicking snow in my face for the hundredth time of the night, and I decided I wasn’t going to stand for it any longer. I sped up to 65 to ensure that I no truck would pass me, ensuring that I could see the road well. It was a grueling pace; one that I was bound to abandon sooner or later.

Unfortunately, sooner came rather than later. I was wide awake at 3:45, December 23rd, 2008, mile marker #144 on I-90 East, when my wheels veered ever so slightly to the left onto the snow-covered yellow line and I lost traction. My van, all 8,500lbs of it, plowed into the center grass strip through eight inches of snow. Frankly, I was amazed I stayed upright. For a very real second, I thought I was going to be stuck on my right side, wheels spinning, in the middle of the highway at four in the morning. But I was alive, upright, and conscious. I flicked on my emergency flashers. Man, I thought to myself, what was I going to do now? I reached for my CB.

I had bought a brand-new, still-in-the-box CB radio at Goodwill a month earlier, because I thought it was cool and because I had never owned a CB before. It was one of those nostalgia-for-things-you-never-owned-or-used type of deals. Anyway, I had it along with me, so I flicked it to channel nine and radioed out. “Breaker Oh-nine, this is, uh, the huge van stuck in the ditch.” Heck, I had never used a CB before. What was I supposed to say? I had the inkling feeling, however, that my handheld CB sucked, and that no one heard me. So I called my mom. My mom was immediately concerned, obviously, but there wasn’t really anything she could DO for me, so after talking briefly with her and my Dad, I hung up. I suppose this would also be a good time to mention that my van has no heat. It was not warm. Here I was in the middle of a snowy ditch in a van that had no heat. My feet were already pretty numb even before I slid off the road, and the prospect of frostbite didn’t appeal to me at all. It was in the middle of thinking how unattractive black toes are when I saw a car going the opposite way slow down, put on its flashers and stop on the shoulder. This is how I met Rhonda.

Rhonda was Canadian, in her late 20’s/early 30’s, had a cute little toy dog that was hyperactive, and drove a blue, four-door Toyota Yaris. Let’s take a moment here to acknowledge how screwed up it is that, while dashing across the interstate at four in the morning to meet a stranger who stopped to help me, I do a complete mental run-down of her car. Anyway, Rhonda was very concerned and offered to call a tow-truck, for which I was grateful, and let me hop into her very warm car to thaw out my toes, for which I was even more grateful. I had barely closed her car door, however, when a state trooper pulled up to my van. I got out of the Yaris, and ran back to greet the officer.

“Is this your vehicle?” he asked.
“Yeah, it is,” I answered.
“Ok. Go tell that guy up there to get off the road,” the officer ordered, “or he’s gonna get rear-ended.”

I ran back to the Yaris, opened the door, and told Rhonda, smiling, “The officer wants you to beat it.”
“Excellent. I’m out of here then.”
“Thanks again for stopping. I really appreciate it.”

I waved goodbye, and she motored off westward. I ran back to the officer, who by now had radioed for a tow-truck to come and winch me out.

“You just go back and stay in your vehicle now until the tow truck arrives, ok?” he said.
“I would, but my vehicle has no heat, sir.”
“Your vehicle has no heat!?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to get in my cruiser then.”

And thus, I got to ride in a police car for the first time in my life.The officer was clearly annoyed that he would have to stay around and keep me warm until the truck arrived, but he was a very good sport about it. Though the cruiser wasn’t perfect (the back seat has almost no leg room and my feet didn’t warm up one bit) it was certainly better than freezing to death in my van.

The tow tow truck took about half an hour to arrive, winched me out with no trouble, charged me $150, which I paid in cash on the spot, and by 5:20 I was back on track, rolling down the Wisconsin highway. I had lost a little bit of time and a lot of money (the statie gave me a ticket for going too fast for conditions), but was happy that things hadn’t been worse. I was thankful that I hadn’t rolled over, that the trooper let me stay warm, and that my van wasn’t harmed.

I continued the trip, but my nerves were shot. I was so afraid of going off the road again that I kept my speed to 50 and gripped the wheel tightly with both hands for the entire three hours left of my trip. I had to fill up for gas around 6:30, so exited and pulled into a BP station. I filled up both my tanks and then walked to a nearby diner. I ate four eggs, over-easy, downed a glass of water, and just sat at the counter, trying to calm my nerves.

I arrived at my parents house just before 9 am, a little under ten hours after I had left. I was still wide awake, thanks to the Five-Hour Energy, and remained alert and coherent until about 2PM, at which time I had been up for 26 hours, and then crashed.

Thankfully the return trip was completely uneventful, and during the time in between I played a lot of Guitar Hero World Tour, ate a lot of good food, played a lot of family games, and even shoveled a bit of snow and helped out with washing dishes.

My family doesn’t have a lot of long-standing traditions beyond stockings and gifts (not even a Christmas tree), and because of that, I had no idea what I would miss once I was living alone when the season rolled around. When late December, 2007, finally came, I actually didn’t think that I would miss anything. I mean, sure, I missed being with my family, but that was ongoing and not specifically related to Christmas. One, thing, however, did hit me. I spent the Sunday before Christmas that year with my friend Dan and his family in Lancaster, PA. We went to a conservative Lutheran church that morning, and during the service I realized what I missed more than anything else during the Christmas season. Listening to the Christmas hymns being sung around me, a tear rolled down my cheek I realized that what I really missed was hearing my father’s voice sing the Christmas hymns that he loved so dearly. My father used to sing me and my brother to sleep at night when we were little, and every year of my life I had heard my father sing hymns in church.

On Christmas Eve of this year, however, my family and I went to a late-night candle-light service, and I got to hear my father sing; his low, baritone singing the harmony to songs loved the world over. And again it hit me, how blessed I truly am to have a family that loves me, a car that runs, and to be part of a tradition in which certain songs are timeless.


_DZ

The Combini and Filling Station as Unique Aspects of Culture

When was the last time you wanted a snack or a drink really suddenly, or forgot you needed an extra pack of cigarettes? What did you do? Chances are, if you were in the neighborhood of a convenient store, you drove or walked over there to get what you needed. Once inside, maybe you realized you needed some other things too, like milk, bread, or cough drops. You bought the items, and walked outside. Now, if you had driven there, you might decide that you also needed some gas, and took the opportunity to fill up. You have just had a uniquely suburban American experience.

Because the expansion of the suburban US was based around the automobile and, subsequently, the highway, gas stations and convenient stores have mostly evolved as one and the same. It seems natural to be able to stop by the gas station on the way home if you suddenly realize you need bread or some other grocery item. The separation of the convenient store and the gas station is seen only in very urban areas, at least in America. In other cultures, in this case I will highlight Japanese culture, it is not always the case.


Take a look at this picture. This is a Casey’s General Store, a chain prevalent in the upper midwest United States despite its name being best said in a Southern drawl. It is in a suburban neighborhood, as evident by the houses around it. It is not stranded on some highway exit oasis. It has a few gas pumps, and inside you will likely find fresh pots of coffee, donuts, coolers full of soda pop, bags of chips, and beef jerky, among many other things. The store will probably stock some basic automotive items, such as motor oil and air fresheners, and along one window will be a magazine rack, filled with glossy periodicals. Behind the counter you will also probably find cigarettes and in the back cooler, depending on the state, there will be alcohol. In short, it seems to be a typical American convenient store. I imagine that the store follows the formula typical of just about any so-called “convenient store” around the globe. But why the gas pumps? Why is shopping for goods and gassing your car associated with one another? Because of America’s fondness for the automobile and the prevalence of it in the expansion of suburban American life across the continent.

Japan is a nation that loves its cars. They are very good at making them, as evidenced by the availability of Mazdas, Toyotas, Hondas, and Nissans, etc, all around the world. But cars came to Japan after the country was already entirely settled. Cars were a luxury; a way of getting from Point A to Point B more quickly as opposed to exploring a brand-new Point C. As such, the homogeneity that convenient stores have with gas station in the US did not play out the same way as it did in Japan. Indeed, convenient stores and gas station in japan are two entirely separate businesses. Popular convenient store, or combini, brands in Japan such as 7-Eleven, Lawson, FamilyMart, AM/PM, Sunkus and MiniStop have nothing to with selling gasoline, instead leaving that to well-known petrol brands such as Shell, Jomo, Esso, Eneos, and Cosmo. These filling stations almost always have garages and car-washes attached to them as well. They are also the hubs of the local automotive culture. Hot-rodders congregate at the local gas stations late at night, admiring one anothers’ cars, and full-service attendants will pump your gas, wash your windows, and empty your cars ashtray with a smile. A Japanese gas station will occasionally have a restroom or vending machine inside, but not much else. Certainly not food.

Combinis, on the other hand, are always stocked with a wealth of foods, drinks (both hard and soft), cigarettes, magazines, and household items. Most will even stock toys and video games and will let you pay your cellphone and utility bills! These goods and services are almost never found in American convenient stores. There are a few other notable differences as well.

• Combinis do not have fountain drinks. This is indicative of Japan in general, actually, where free-refill-type fountain drinks are rarely found.
• Also related to drinks, combinis do not have fresh coffee. Japan seems to have cornered the market on canned coffee (though the legitimacy of actual competition in this market is debatable), and most coffee in Japan is thus sold in a can.
• Japan in general is not a big consumer of beef jerky. While in any American gas station one can be expected to be confronted with a wall of dried beef as soon as they enter the store, this is not the case in a combini.
• Apart from a delicious dish called oden, very little food in a combini is what Americans would consider “fresh”. While it’s true that most food in a combini is encased in plastic, it does taste surprisingly fresh once removed and eaten. I attribute this to the ease of transport across Japan (though I mean mainly Tokyo and other cities here). Food is able to to be moved quickly, allowing for fresher food on the combini shelves. It is wrapped in plastic because, well, let’s face it, nearly everything in Japan comes wrapped in plastic.
• Lottery is handled by a separate system in Japan, and combinis do not sell lotto tickets.
• Despite having bottled soft drinks in the store, most combinis will have vending machines right outside the door selling the exact same things! Not only do Japanese vending machines sell drinks, but also tobacco and alcohol as well. It is truly curious to see vending machines right outside of the stores.

While it s no secret that frameworks of commerce in countries reflect the lifestyles of its people, I find it really interesting to compare the cultural differences evident when contrasting the American filling station and convenient store with the Japanese combini and gas station. Japan clearly was a nation where the combini came first and cemented itself as the go-to spot for spur-of-the-moment groceries and other goods, while the gas stations sprung up later to cater solely to the automotive needs and demands of a growing economy. In America, however, the growth was synergic, resulting is brands like BP, Casey’s General Store, WaWa, and Texaco that have a good deal of food and home products for the man or woman on the go. Such contrasts are beautiful examples of diversity in this increasingly connected world, and should be enjoyed and treasured.






_DZ

Buying a Powerball Ticket - The Key to Happiness, Fulfilled Dreams, and Camaros?

My local paper, the Pioneer Press, ran a syndicated article today telling how, even in these hard economic times, people are buying lottery tickets. In fact, they are buying more lottery tickets than they normally do. I thought that this was only true of alcohol sales during a recession, but I guess I was wrong. Perhaps, even, the two are related?

I can, however, attest to booming Powerball sales at my station, though this might have more to do with the recent improvement in odds and the Chevrolet Camaro giveaway promotion than the poor economy.

The article goes on to interview a Tennessee man who concedes that, yes, the money he spends on the lottery ($100/week) would be better spent elsewhere, but “everybody has dreams.” This is how this man copes with life - by entertaining his dreams.

I like dreams. I think that, sometimes, dreams can generate increased productivity. But not these kinds of dreams. Not dreams that only exist to help release dopamine into you system - that help you ignore what’s going on around you.

A few fortnights ago, I accidentally bumped by elbow in to the touch-screen lotto machine and bought myself a $1 Northstar Cash ticket. What followed was the worst Friday night that I can remember (other than St. Patty’s Day, 2007. But that is another story entirely). My entire evening was spent fantasizing about what I would do with the money, in this case $62,000 before taxes, if my ticket happened to be the lucky one. Would I give it away? Invest it? Use it to go back to college? Donate it to charity? Move somewhere else? Go on another roadtrip? The possibilities were so endless that I could not concentrate on my job, ideas to write about, or even sudoku in the paper that day. I was completely lost in la-la land, and I hated it. I hated not being able to focus, not being able to concentrate on the present.

Two things resulted from this experience. The first was any lingering temptation I had to play the lotto was completely annihilated. The second was that I now understood why people played the lottery even though the odds of winning are so miniscule. They don’t buy to win, though that would be a nice bonus. They aren’t throwing money away - rather they are buying a positive psychological effect, a ‘high,’ as it were. They are buying the opportunity to fantasize for a day, or a week, or however long it is until the next drawing.

So what is the point of explaining this? After all, if you already play the lottery, this is all familiar to you. If you already refrain, chances are that this article isn’t going to change your mind in the slightest. I’m not condemning those who play the lotto or saying that it is somehow “below” me. Everyone has his or her vices. Heck, if you live in Minnesota, I encourage you to play the lottery. After all, that money is going straight to the state, and the state is the one who’s going to be paying for my health insurance in a few months. Buy all the Powerball you want, and I hope you win that Camaro, too.




_DZ

My Top Nine Albums Going Into 2009

This post is more for my own benefit than anything else. I just think it would be fun to read this next year and see what is different.

In no particular order:

Aladdin Sane - David Bowie

Bowie’s effort from 1973 (the same year as Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon) is an absolute joy to listen to. The music is so innocent and carefree that it makes me wish I was 16 again, going to a drive-in movie.

Ambient 1: Music for Airports - Brian Eno

Another album from the 70’s, this piece of music shines in that it is interesting and forgettable all at the same time. It plays just as well through headphones as it does as background music for a room. And at only four tracks long, it is easily to keep track of which piece is playing.

Urban Mythology Vol. 1 - Free Form Funky Freqs

I literally cannot stop listening to this CD. This is Vernon Reid’s (of Living Color fame) latest effort, and it is essentially a jazz-rock fusion jam session. Very little of the music seems rehearsed, rather the album has the feel of three musicians who play together all the time taking some time out to record some of their jams. Perhaps the greatest compliment I can give the album is that if would be an interesting listen even if it were just the bass and drums. Reid’s backing band is that good. The guitar sometimes seems like just the icing on the cake.

Invisible Touch - Genesis

I bought this CD at the same time as Aladdin Sane, and it has received equal if not greater rotation in my iTunes. This is just straight-up, feel good 80’s pop art-rock. At just eight songs, this album is short and sweet.

En=Trance - Klaus Schulze

This was my first taste of Schulze’s music, and it remains my favorite work of his so far. This CD is just four tracks long as well but, at eighteen minutes a track, listening to it is possibly the most blissful way to spend an hour. Complex synth arrangements and impossibly intricate rhythms intertwine to give the listener a beautiful taste of 80’s electronica.

Ocean Machine/Biomech - Devin Townsend

I first heard Devin on Steve Vai’s Sex and Religion record, and that led me to purchase his 1998 album Infinity. While Infinity is indeed brilliant, Biomech surpasses it in nearly every way, taking Townsend’s brand of metal to new heights. (It should be noted, however, that Ocean Machine/Biomech did come first). The album is produced using the wall-of-sound technique, which will sound harsh to most virgin listeners. Once you get used to it, though, it becomes an inseparable part of the aural experience of the CD. Biomech starts out slowly but solidly, and by the end of the track six, “Voices in the Fan,” the listener is primed for the superb, seamless second half of the CD. Indeed, I could say that the 13 tracks on the CD are only eight - the first seven including Voices and then everything after that.

Oxygéne - Jean-Michel Jarre

Another short album (only six tracks), but a beautifully innocent piece of music symbolic of the early exploration of analog synthesizers. The simplicity and playfulness of the music keep luring me back for more.

Perpetual Burn - Jason Becker

Jason Becker is somewhat of a hero of mine, and the guitar work on this, his solo debut shredfest, is absolutely mindblowing. He was 19 at the time of its release, and should he not have fallen ill to ALS at 21, might have become the greatest guitar god of the 90’s. Again, another short CD, with the eight tracks totaling to 55 minutes of metal.

Ultra Payloaded - Perry Farrell’s Satellite Party

The former frontman of Jane’s Addiction and Porno for Pyros returned in 2007 with this CD, after coming to the conclusion that, despite his fame, if he didn’t continue to make music, no one would care about him. That being said, this album is absolutely rock solid, guys-night-out, party rock. Featuring Peter Hook from New Order as well as ‘Peppers bassist Flea on select tracks, the album is a non-stop showcase of what Perry Farrell is capable of doing when he decides that he wants to make music. Talented musicians flock to him, and he can use them craftily to produce a stunning piece of concept-rock. The guitar work of Nuno Bettencourt (formerly of the band Extreme), was something I had not heard before but greatly enjoyed.

Albums to Listen to More this Year:

Fortissimo - Virgin Black
1.Outside - David Bowie
Audentity - Klaus Schulze
Mirage - Klaus Schulze
Mistaken Identity - Vernon Reid
Zen Arcade - Hüsker Dü
Wired - Jeff Beck
Real Illusions: Reflections - Steve Vai
Mothership Connection - Parliament

2009: Goals For The New Year!

I’m not a huge fan of the word “resolution”, so rather I chose to make New Years Plans. As in, ‘things I plan to do this year that may or may not make me a better person but hopefully will make me better.” They are as follows:

✓ Read at least twenty new books this year (I like to re-read books, so at least 20 NEW ones)
✓ Read through the Bible in a year (I’m doing it historically)
✓ Not buy a single music CD or track (I already own enough music to which I have yet to listen. Mostly classical.) Since there were times when I bought upwards of ten a week, this might be tougher than I think.
✓ Double my amount of posted entires on my blog (last year I had 87, so...174? Wow, that’s a lot.)
✓ Memorize all the logical fallacies on this list.
✓ Produce a piece of ambient music that I actually like. So far all the ones I’ve done are totally uninspired, at least in my opinion, which is the only one that counts.
✓ Give away at least five Macs (as per this post). Last year I gave one!

So that’s it. A pretty short, but hopefully demanding list. Let’s see how I do!

2008: A Recap!

This, the end of 2008, is a good time to reflect on the past year, much like I did a year ago. Since then, I have had made eighty-seven posts on this site that chronicled my life and thoughts throughout the year. I suppose now would be an appropriate time to post my recap of things I did and events that happened over the past year. This time, though, it will be easier, since I have written many more of the events down.

In 2008 I:

• Left Pennsylvania
• Sold my first car
• Bought a huge van
• Went roadtripping!
• Saw Buckethead, Saul Williams, My Brightest Diamond, Haale, and Joe Satriani play live
• Rocked a Hitlerstache
• Discovered ASofterWorld
• Discovered TED videos
• Voted
• Sold one Mac G4 and bought another one five months later
• Moved to Minnesota
• Found a new job
• Ate a raw onion whole
• Furnished a room entirely from Craigslist.
• Bought a fixie and learned how to ride it
• Got to drive some pretty sweet cars
• Added at least 52 CDs to my library, and got rid of close to three times that many
• Got into Jane’s Addiction
• Rocked most of Guitar Hero on expert
• Gave away a computer to someone who needed it
• Bought and sold a lot on Craigslist.
• Went kissless (!)
• Had no health insurance (or “self-paid”, as the pharmacy likes to call it)
• Relied on God’s grace a LOT

Outliers, a book about successful people like Malcolm Gladwell, by Malcolm Gladwell

I spent a large portion of my day today reading through Malcolm Gladwell’s newest book, Outliers. In it, Gladwell takes a look at the underlying factors that contribute to the rise of what we typically call a “successful” individual. The book looks at the stories of several prominent people in todays world, among the Bill Gates, Bill Joy, the creator of UNIX, and The Beatles. Also critiqued are the Asians and their math skills, youths in Canadian hockey leagues, and the entrepreneurial tycoons of the late eighteen-hundreds like Rockefeller. Mr. Gladwell asserts, through these stories and others, that the rags-to-riches stories that we Americans love to hear are far and away simply untrue. Successful people, no matter how much innate ability or genius they have, are still the product of their times, their heritage, their circumstances, and a lot (Gladwell estimates at least ten-thousand hours) of work. Sometimes dumb luck helps, too. Outliers is essentially a collection of stories that reinforce this point.

While the book is certainly well done and thought provoking, it does little to assist the reader in thinking about his or her future. The book is a look at history, and since we can’t know the effects of the present on the future, it does little to comfort those who are struggling to be successful. Main points to take away from it are:

1. Hope you were born at the right time
2. Hope you network with the right people
3. Know your history
4. Work really, really hard

These points apply to almost everyone I consider successful. Take guitar god Yngwie Malmsteen, for example. He was born in 1963, making him ten years old when Jimi Hendrix died. He watched the funeral on TV, and after seeing a clip of Hendrix performing, took up guitar. He practiced incessantly all through his teen years, aided by his mother who let him drop out of school after she recognized his talent. He took up an apprenticeship with a luthier which allowed him to get some practice in even while at work. He wasn’t a rich kid whose parents paid for expensive guitar teachers and equipment (not that that would have necessarily mattered). He got good because practically all he did every day for ten years was play guitar. He easily had his ten-thousand hours in by the time he was 21, at which time he moved to L.A. at the prime of the metal scene. Eddie Van Halen had come on the scene just five years before, and now every kid in Southern California was trying to shred like Eddie did. And then arrived Mr. Malmsteen, who had been doing just that for the past ten years. Of course he was going to be successful!

The thing that most struck me about Outliers, though, was the point Gladwell pushed to people like me who haven’t put ten-thousand hours into anything yet. That point? Identify what you are good at. Figure out what you’ve had success doing in the past, and pour more coal onto that. To that I would add, “Make sure that’s what God wants you to do, or otherwise it will be futile regardless of your effort,” but the point is still the same. To be successful, you need to know what you’re good at. Maybe it’s cabinet-making, maybe it’s computer programming, maybe it’s being a jack-of-all-trades that is useful to a degree in just about anything. Regardless, isolate that, and full steam ahead!


_DZ

Recapping Christmas of last year and being thankful

I have a lot to be thankful for this Christmas. I suppose I had a lot to be thankful last Christmas though, too. I guess the underlying lesson is that Christmas helps me realize things I am thankful for.

Last Christmas started with me posting this early in the morning. I was alone, as the family I lived with was away in the southwest United States visiting relatives and my own family was enjoying a mild-weathered Christmas in Japan. I had an entire house to myself, and I was planning a rather laid-back Christmas day. I had opened presents with my family via iChat video conference the night before (Christmas morning their time), and with no presents to open or parties to go to on actual Christmas Day, I had a lot of free time.

The day started with the usual breakfast and dressing, and then I decided to take a nice long Christmas drive in my sports car. (I probably am still one of the few who drives alone for the sole pleasure of driving.) I walked out to my car only to find that I had left the headlights on for the past day or so (I didn’t have to work on Christmas Eve, so I stayed in) and my battery was dead. Undaunted I pulled out keys to one of the family cars and pulled it near to jump-start my Nissan. A successful jump later and I was on my way, cruising merrily along the Pennsylvania countryside. Then my car started choking. And bucking. And coughing. And flashing the dash lights. and then it died. I sighed. I had no idea where I was.

I got out of my car and walked around, trying to find the nearest intersection so I could phone my friend Shanan who was still in town and tell her where I was. I couldn’t find an intersection, so I decided to hang out outside my car and read a book until someone drove past whom I could hail. I kept a collapsable chair in my trunk (the colored kind that you get at Wal-mart), so I set that up, took out my copy of David Bowie’s biography by David Buckley, and started reading.

I hadn’t gotten far when a white Silverado crew cab pulled up next to me and asked me if everything was OK. I motioned to my open hood and asked if they had jumper cables. They did, and soon I was jumped and running. I drove maybe a block, however, before my car exhibited the same symptoms and promptly died once again. What a great Christmas so far!

Undaunted, I decided to call my friend Kirah, who I thought lived somewhere nearby. After a brief conversation during which I attempted to describe my whereabouts, she told me that she and her dad would be willing to drive out and find me. Yay for generous friends!

They arrived in their white GMC Sierra sooner than they thought they would (apparently I really had no idea where I was and described somewhere much farther away) and I was jumped once again. We let both cars run for awhile to make sure my car charged sufficiently this time, and soon I was driving, with Kirah riding shotgun, to her house. Her dad thought that my alternator had gone, but since no garage was open on Christmas, was going to allow me to park my car at their house.

Once at their house, they decided that it would be only proper to have me join them for their Christmas dinner. I was taken aback, self-conscious, and incredibly grateful all at the same time. Taken aback at the sudden change in my afternoon plans, grateful for their generosity, and incredibly self-conscious because I had dressed for a morning drive, not for a family Christmas dinner. I was wearing ratty jeans, sneakers, and a threadbare sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off. The sweatshirt was blue with cows on it, and it was worn over a white long-sleeve pajama shirt. I could not possibly have been any more underdressed.

I ended up staying at their house for the rest of the day, enjoying a incredibly tasty meal, fellowship over games afterwards, and meeting many engaging people related to Kirah in one way or another. I’m sure I apologized for my appearance on the hour, but Kirah kept assuring me that it was OK, even though I didn’t believe her. She was even willing to drive me home (a ten minute drive away) very late at night after the party was all over. It was indeed a Christmas that I did not expect.

As I sat in my room and reflected on the day, I listed things that I was thankful for. I was thankful that my car only needed a new alternator. I was thankful that I had broken down near Kirah’s house instead of somewhere far away. I was thankful for mild weather that I could sit outside in. For good food. For fellowship. For warmth indoors as the temperature outside dropped. For friends. All the things that I usually took for granted were suddenly brought to light. Heck, that in itself was enough to be thankful for.




_DZ

Narrative of this years Christmas experience coming soon!