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The nice thing about short days

Is having more time to look at the stars. I know Winter Solstice is bringing us longer days… but it’s still pretty dark around here. Here’s an article from my newspaper column.

I saw no stars on that cloudy night at the Perkins Observatory. Instead of stardust, the astronomers there sprinkled my mind, and the minds of the first- and second-graders there, with wonder.

They reminded me that when we look up, we see the past; the light is already billions of years old. They reminded us that our vast galaxy is just beginning its life. Our 4.5 billion-year-old sun is still less than halfway through its life. The future lying ahead is more prolonged than the past we’ve seen.

These concepts are staggering to comprehend, but the gem here comes from remembering what my seventh-grade history teacher used to repeat: “You can’t understand the future until you understand the past.” Four hundred years ago, Galileo turned his telescope away from the sea and began to look at the heavens, and thus 2009 is our International Year of Astronomy (IYA).

Galileo’s shift of his telescope changed the world not simply because he looked, but because he observed the sky night after night while meticulously filling in the details in his observing log. He saw that the stars do shift positions, and when one star vanished, he discovered not a star, but a moon hiding behind Jupiter.

Because our word shares the same sky, astronomy is a great unifier, and may even hold our potential for world peace. Satellite pictures of our earth show us the geographic boundaries of our continents, while the political boundaries vanish.

This revelation led astronomers in Iran to create StarPeace, a project of IYA to hold joint public star parties near the borderlines of two neighboring countries. On Dec. 4, people from Indonesia and the Philippines came together to make a peace bridge on South China Sea, with teachers and astronomers offering free public viewings of the stars through high-powered telescopes.

The amateur astronomer George Eric Deacon Alcock discovered five comets on his own through meticulous viewings and recordings in his observing log. Backyard astronomers, like you, can use their eyes, telescopes and binoculars to create their own observing logs. Binoculars provide a wider field of view than telescopes.

In the winter, no other constellation is more distinct or bright as Orion, the Mighty Hunter. This month, if the sky is clear — a minor  miracle — look for three bright stars that form Orion’s Belt. One of the brightest stars in the night sky, Rigel, represents Orion’s foot. His two shoulders are made of the stars Bellatrix and Betelgeuse.

Orion will wait for you; he will remain recognizable in the night sky for the next 1 to 2 million years, making it one of the longest observable constellations.

As we stand solidly on earth looking up, we can barely fathom our place in a galaxy that is showing us our billion-year-old past. But imagine, for a moment, looking at earth from space, where there is no solid footing. An astronaut once revealed to me the universal secret astronauts hold: They are homesick. Not for earth, but for space.

He described the familiar heavy pull of gravity as the carrier sped back toward earth, and he instantly felt a longing for the lightness he knew in space. With tears in his eyes, he also added, “The earth looks beautiful from space. The earth glows, and it pulsates with energy.”

Good Things Come In Brown Packages

In college, a UPS man’s appearance at the front desk simultaneously aroused curiosity and surprise. The UPS man was nothing other than a harbinger of joy, as he dropped off his cardboard package of, what else? Cookies.  We could find cookies on campus, especially on Thursday nights in the dining hall — but they weren’t Mom’s cookies. And they weren’t pre-meditated cookies. Cookies that were baked days earlier with kindness, thoughtfulness, and set aside (i.e. not eaten by everyone else in the house) to be packaged in a box, and driven to the UPS store to be mailed to a specific person.

Cookies that came from some other place — far from here, where there were ovens, hotpads, and a kitchen sink loaded with hot soapy water, and a person who thought of you.

Today, another brown box arrived — just when I needed a good pick-me-up.

Inside were cookies. All decorated and pretty from my Mother-In-Law. We had just eaten our last crumb of Christmas cookies, and I was thinking it was time to bake more for the boys. It is Christmas vacation, after all. But I was thankfully spared from that drama. Nothing like getting another dose of Christmas just when you thought it was all over. Brown paper, by the way, does a surprisingly amazing job of keeping cookies fresh.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put a smile on his face again.

He was the one who woke up first – two hours before everyone else, as he “ohhed and ahhed” over the packages left by the man he really doesn’t believe in if you ask him; but couldn’t help but wonder as the lights twinkled across the packages, and his face, as he examined all the loot left behind, if he was real after all.

At 7, he somehow has enough empathy not to wake us up, waiting for a decent hour. We gave him the honor of going first. With wide-eyes and excitement, he tore off the wrapper and no longer held in his hands hopes for what he wished for, but rather held Jenga. Tears immediately flowed. Yes, he had asked for this – maybe, many weeks back – but that was before he fell in love with Toa Mata Nui.

No tears on Christmas. I grabbed another package and gave it to him, except that in my haste, I inadvertently grabbed the package of socks. Despite their wool content, they only made the tears fall faster. (Just wait till that first snow falls baby; and you’ll have dry toes. Let’s see who’ll be crying then!)

I wasn’t sure what to do. I want him to be gracious and thankful for the gifts; but yet, I don’t want to turn him into Scrooge, dreading Christmases in his Future. This Christmas was nothing but a big, fat heartbreak. Where are the altruistic meanings of Christmas that I am responsible for teaching?

His little brother had quite the opposite reaction. Opening presents, giddy with glee. You could have given him bags of coal, and he would have been doing flips. His castle, with horses and men entertained him for hours. The big boys in the house, much tougher to please, were fine and dandy. Gracious, curious and appreciative.

The tears finally did die down, and the pile of “Stuff I’m returning tomorrow” dwindled down as he eventually pulled them out of the pile because, “I’ll play with them if it makes you happy.”

In retrospect, the only time he didn’t cry in the morning was when a present he had picked for someone else was opened. Those sore feet and seemingly endless trips to the store to buy presents for each other was really, the best gift I could have bought this Christmas.

Eggnog French Toast Without a Mixing Bowl

For breakfast, I whipped up a quick brunch on Christmas Eve. Steel Cut Oatmeal was soaked overnight, (here’s how) so that all I had to do was heat it up in the morning. But, the topper was this eggnog french toast — incredibly easy and so, very good. All you do is pour the eggnog over your day-old bread, and then bake it. No egg cracking or mixing! I did let the eggnog soak into the bread overnight — but  you could pour the eggnog over the bread in the morning, and be just fine.

Here’s how:

  • 6-8 slices day old bread
  • 2 c. dairy eggnog
  • 1/4 c. butter
  • Maple Syrup, Cinnamon and Nutmeg for sprinkling on top.

Method

  1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.
  2. Place bread in single layer in buttered shallow dish.
  3. Pour eggnog over bread.Let stand, turning bread once, until eggnog is absorbed, about 5 minutes. (Or put in fridge and let it soak in overnight. But don’t pre-heat the oven until the morning.)
  4. Bake 8 to 10 minutes.
  5. Melt butter in microwave.
  6. Flip bread over, and pour melted butter on top.
  7. Bake 5-8 minutes on other side, or until golden.

Serve with Maple syrup, Cinnamon and Nutmeg.

Accidentially Snooping

“Mom, I wasn’t snooping or anything…”

“Yeah, but… what?”

“Well, those Under Armour shirts that are under my bed are too small for me.”

Not only was he looking — but he tried things on?!

“Why in the world were you looking under your bed last night? After ski club? Weren’t you so tired that you just dropped into bed?”

“Well, I was bouncing a ball, and it rolled under my bed, and I reached under to …”

“The reason the presents are in your room is because your little brothers found them in my room, so I had to come up with a new spot real fast – and your room is the one place no one ever goes… and I certainly didn’t expect you to crawl under your bed at midnight. So keep quiet, OK?”

“Oh. OK. Well, Mom, also…you know that OSU hat under there? Is that for me?”

“No, it’s for your brother.”

“Well, I need one of those too

I’m really glad Christmas is tomorrow, because I can barely keep up with myself anymore, and I am clearly running out of spots to hide presents.

Three point five ounces of magic

Today my mailbox was filled with two complete polar opposites of emotion. The first was a white envelope that contained the words, “I’m sorry, but…” End of story. I had suspected that if such a letter was coming, they would have held off until after the holidays – now I realize that is simply not the case. “Four days before Christmas, and we’re sending off a letter that will make you feel as if you just got kicked in the stomach.” “And,” I can hear them in my head, “We have no problem doing that, because this is just business.”

Now I’m grinding my teeth during the day too.

There was a second pole of emotion that came in a brown box wrapped in red, white and blue postal priority mail service tape. Inside was a vintage box of angel hair. The $.89 Shopper’s Fair sticker is still attached.

The return address on the package is not one I recognize – although the last name sounds familiar, but I cannot place it. But, the location I clearly do not know. This is a time that it’s difficult not for me to remember those cookies.

There is a passage in the book Julie and Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously where Julie writes on her blog that she can’t afford to buy enough butter to cook Julia Child’s butter-laden recipes. To her surprise, she finds more butter than she needs in her mailbox – from people all over the world.

As I read this, I was struck by the power of words to incite people to care and to reach out. To send cards when there is nothing else that can be done. To motivate someone to send a rare box of vintage angel hair to someone else.

While Julie became known by the mailman as the butter girl, I get angel hair. (I prefer the hair.)

So, whoever you are, I am grateful for this puddle of angel hair to spin magic around the house for the holidays, and for the vintage box to keep it safe year after year. An extra 3.5 ounces of magic where nothing existed before.

Part of me knows that the bad news that arrived in my mailbox today is just another link in the chain to something better. Before X can happen, this Y must happen too. But, it’s still quite a blow; one the angel hair softens. And, thank you my friend, for putting a bit of joy in what otherwise would have been a very, bleak day for my mailbox. Your timing couldn’t have been better.