Silent Night

Silent Night 

By John R. Greenwood

When men you are responsible for hit a health speed-bump you have to practice what you preach and help fill the void. When you’ve spent 40 years working in every aspect the milk business has to offer, you understand there will be missed holidays. When you’ve been married for 42 years your wife knows what you are about to tell her by the look on your face. Unfortunately the magic wand you use to fix everyone’s problems doesn’t always work when you need it most. That was the case this Christmas. 

My Christmas morning would begin at 1am and include a tractor and a trailer. I would spend the day picking up milk from dairy farms in two counties. Because my time driving the eighteen wheeler is rare, the hardest part for me is backing the trailer into the milk receiving bay. It’s tight and challenging. I’m much better preaching about safe following distances than I am backing up a tractor and trailer. Don’t judge me. 

The optimist in me knows there are advantages of working Christmas morning. There would be front row parking at the plant and no line at the coffee machine. Solitude would be plentiful and welcome.  

By 1:45am I had my equipment pre-tripped, my milk sample cooler filled with ice and I was headed out to my first farm. It was eerily quiet as I pulled out of the plant and on to the highway. I hadn’t passed one car on my way to work and there were none in sight now. As I rumbled through the streets of Saratoga Springs I was able to savor the smorgasbord of red, white, and green Christmas lights. Some were blinking, some glowed bright against the black of night. I had visions of children with their pillows tucked up under their heads, smiling in their sleep,  dreaming of remote-controlled drones, and electronic talking kittens. I imagined pockets of exhausted parents still wrapping and assembling toys, sipping something hot or cold, and sneaking one of Santa’s cookies. With empty streets and minus the distraction of any traffic it was like watching a Christmas movie without sound, screen-less and vivid. My pulse slowed and my heart filled. My breathing smoothed and all my aches and pains disappeared. I felt like I’d received a precious gift, a priceless gift. Suddenly having to work on Christmas turned from regret to gratitude. I felt grateful for my family, my job, and my life. The radio was off but the words to “Silent Night” were filling the cab of my truck. All was calm, all was bright. 

To say I was at ease would be putting it mildly. It was much more than that. Throughout the night  memories of Christmas’ past began streaming through my head. Those earliest Christmas mornings when the excitement is so high you felt as though you might burst with joy. The feeling you got when you peeled back the wrapping paper covered with chubby snowmen and saw they had been hiding the slot car set you never thought Santa would bring. The warmness you felt later that night when you put on the new flannel pajamas your grandparents gave you. At the time you smiled politely and said thank you but quickly set them aside and began digging for something larger and heavier. Once you hit the jackpot. Santa brought a gift so big he had to lean it against the wall with a big ribbon, its steel runners impatiently waiting for a trip to the nearest snow crusted hill. I never remember a bad Christmas as a child. I thank all the Santa’s in my life for that. I was fortunate as a child. I’m fortunate as an adult. Six decades of Christmas memories swirled around and around my head as I went from farm to farm that day. I felt a flood of gratitude for everything life had placed in front of me. Having to work on Christmas Day was not a burden for me it was a gift. 

It was a long day. It was a good day. Traveling the backroads of rural New York on Christmas Day is something that sticks to your ribs. I felt like I was driving through one of those vintage Christmas cards. One with a scene of a farmhouse on a hillside covered with fresh snow. The big red barn off to the side with a yellow glow coming from the windows. Out back in the field cows are huddled together like a football team. A flock of procrastinating geese can be seen cresting the trees in search of a soft cornfield. The family dog standing firm, like a statue barking a friendly tune, letting you know there’s no need to be worried he’s just glad to have someone to talk to. The neighborhood kids gathered on Bacon Hill filling the toboggan one by one, arms wrapped tightly around one another, the way the world should be. It begins to snow in my Christmas card. Big cotton ball flakes begin floating down like fall leaves. My truck sees a snow coated road ahead and it surges with glee knowing it will be the first to make fresh tracks through an empty valley. Presents surround me this beautiful Christmas morning. My family is back at home but in my head visions of them warm me like the embers of a wood stove. 

I know there is much sadness and pain during the holiday season. Not everyone is blessed with bounty. I do not let that thought pass. I embrace my own good fortune while at the same time actively pray for the relief of others.  

When you finish this piece and speed off, remember to take a moment to appreciate everything around you. Whether its family, health, work, or a new pair of socks, if you're here to experience it, you owe it to yourself to stop and reflect on it. I did this Christmas. At each farm I visited I paused for a second, took in the scenery and silence, took in a deep breath, and thanked the person who’s birthday this was for and for all I’d been blessed with.  

Time to go home. 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year…

John

Santanticipation

Santanticipation 

By John R. Greenwood

A simple December scene plays out across the world. A tender moment captured with the wink of an eye. A child’s bravery tested within reach of his mother’s protective arms. Santa has arrived in full regalia, smiling, laughing, larger than life itself. A child sees through Santa’s glow a sleigh brimmed with toys wrapped in reds and greens and topped with silver bows. His world condensed into one short moment, one tall man with a beard and a hearty tone. Tis’ the season built for the joy of child-gifts and grownup hopes, for peace on earth and goodwill toward men. 

Santanticipation is a wonder we carry through life. It’s an ageless feeling about never letting go of the what-ifs or the if-only’s. One small boy reminded me of that feeling at this pre-Christmas breakfast with Santa generously hosted by the Saratoga Knights of Columbus. 

To all who find themselves here I thank you for your friendship and readership, your supportive comments and faithful visits. This blog was a gift to myself several years ago. It’s a place to give and receive gifts of words. Priceless gifts that provide comfort and joy-- hopefully in two directions. 

So gather up your Santanticipation and fill your sleigh, I see snowflakes falling outside the picture window. 

I guess it’s time...

Miracles?

Miracles?

By John R. Greenwood

Do you believe in Miracles?

I do. 

Last night after the snowplows had made their last swipe through the neighborhood; after the budget conscious homes had shut off their neatly hung Christmas lights; after the late news had taken one more swing at scaring Aunt Thelma into thinking she might run out of bread and milk; after the alarm clock was set and my head dropped to the pillow like a bowling ball; I finally dozed off. 

Long after midnight I awoke to the sound of jingle bells. They were barely audible but their identity was unmistakable. My first reaction wasn’t one of questioning the source but more simply; “Why is Santa here two weeks early?” I threw back the quilt, swung my legs around, and pulled back the curtain. It was snowing those big heavy kleenex size flakes that are so heavy you can hear them dropping on the hood of the car. The motion-light on the side of the garage was on and illuminating the yard like a broadway stage. I could still hear the bells but they were fading high in the snow-filled air. 

Then I looked down.

There in the blanketed yard next to the garage was a set of sleigh-width parallel lines, large V-shaped tracks and a huge four-foot long set of antlers. Now, I’ve run across some pretty unbelievable things in my life, but this took my breath away. Here I was a splinter away from ancient and I’d just had my closest Santa encounter ever. The funny part is I didn’t feel all that surprised about almost seeing Santa and a reindeer, I was more consumed by why he stopped by so early? Was he doing a test run? Maybe Mrs. Claus ran out of milk? My mind went in one-hundred directions until I remembered one thing; there was a set of reindeer antlers in my yard as proof that Santa really does exist! I needed to get out there grab the antlers and get a picture of the sleigh and reindeer tracks just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. 

I yanked on my pants and grabbed a sweatshirt from the hook on the back of the door. As I bent over to pick up my boots I lost my balance and fell headlong into the closet smashing my head on the door casing. I went out like I’d just taken a Mike Tyson shot to the chin. I ended up in a heap like a coiled lab in front of a warm stove. 

The next thing I remember is waking up to my wife gently shaking my shoulder saying, “John, are you okay? You fell and hit your head. What happened?” 

I shook out the cobwebs, looked around to make sure Mike was gone and climbed back up to the edge of the bed. I don’t know how long I was out but there was no blood and no bump. My head didn’t hurt one bit. It was very strange. My wife looked at me like she usually does when I tell her, "I have an idea!” She had that, “Now what?” look. As I began to tell her about the bells and the tracks I realized I hadn’t gotten the pictures or the proof yet! I slid into my all-weather slippers and ran to the door like a kid running down the hall Christmas morning. I didn’t have a second to waste so instead of getting my camera from the other room I just grabbed my phone from the table in the hall. “I’ll just use this.", I muttered to myself.

I burst out the back door and my jaw dropped. 

There must have been another half-foot of snow on the ground since my semi-Santa sighting. The tracks were all gone. There wasn’t even an indentation in the snow. I stood there with slumped shoulders and snow-filled slippers. I looked up at the backdoor to see my wife shake her head, turn around and walk back into the darkness. 

But wait!

There poking out from snow at the edge of the garage was the tiniest tip of an antler. I shuffled over to it, bent over and gently pulled on it. There in a backyard in northeast New York a kid with grey hair and a pounding heart pulled out the most majestic set of reindeer antlers you’ve ever seen. They had a golden hue and were the size of Texas. I've seen pictures of reindeer with beautiful antlers but none of them possessed the trophy-like quality of the ones I had in my hand. 

I snapped the picture below as undisputed proof that Santa Claus does exist and that he stopped by my backyard two weeks before Christmas. I Googled reindeer antlers and sure enough they do shed them every year. The strange part is they usually last until after Christmas. Just like me, Santa's reindeer must be having trouble keeping track of time. 

It's okay though because I might have missed this picture in February.

"Happy Holidays" everyone. 

May all 'your' Christmas miracles come true!