My one Xmas tradition

I know that I can be a bit "bah-humbuggy" during the month of December.  I get annoyed with the bombardment of Christmas into every day life.  I get frustrated with the music, the over-decoration, the rush to purchase large gifts and the stress of travel.  I'm also SERIOUSLY annoyed when people wish me a merry Christmas, as though it is assumed that I am Christian (one of my favorite things is to then wish them Happy Hannukkah and watch them get confused).  

I've had two Decembers that didn't frustrate me me to tears:  December 1997 and December 2000.  These two are significant because they are two holiday seasons where I wasn't in the US.  In 1997, my family took a trip to Israel and it was the first time I realized that the entire world didn't hum Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer.  There were Hannukkah celebrations in our hotel lobby (but just the candle-lighting, no crappy decorations) and on Christmas day, instead of going to a movie and being frustrated by all the store closings, I went scuba diving in the Red Sea (amazing, seriously).  December 2000 I was traveling through Europe and had the pleasure of celebrating the holiday with a good friend in Luxembourg.  We still had an issue with store and restaurant closings (we ate at Chi Chis) but we went to a lovely church service and spent the day taking in Luxembourg City.  So last minute sales, no chinese food, no 24-hour Christmas Story.  It was heaven.

Since then I have strived to create my own Christmas traditions, above and beyond the stereotypical "chinese food and a movie" that most of America thinks that is all Jews can do on December 25.  I've started by going to New York each Christmas.  And, though I never do it on Christmas, my favorite holiday tradition is to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and see the Creche.  This is an amazing work of art.  It's a 360 degree village of characters, including Mary, Jesus and Joseph (plus the Wise Men), at the base of a beautiful tree filled with floating angels.  There is fake water in a stream, people having conversations not related to the nativity, and gives the sense of the common setting of the nativity while still celebrating the birth of Jesus.  Set in front of a choir panel from Spain, with light classical holiday music being played in the background, I get a sense that, if I thought Jesus was the Savior, this is EXACTLY how I would want to celebrate it.  Simple, beautiful, classic.  I wish every December could be described that way.

Are we there yet?

So the Big Cornfield is a vast open space, where it seems to take at least two hours to get anywhere.  As a kid, going to the lake was easily a four hour trip.  Camp was a nine hour trip.  The nearest big city?  At least three and a half ('cause I refuse to count Omaha as a big city).  So it perplexes most people I know from the Cornfield when I tell them that I can hop on a bus in DC and be in downtown NYC in 4.5 hours.  They do the math and realize that in 4.5 hours, I will have traveled through four states and a District (5 states if you take the cheap route through Philly), all of which can be done while surfing the web (thanks Boltbus) or talking on one battery life of my cell.  You know where 4.5 hours gets me in the Cornfield?  Nebraska.  If your pedal is to the metal and you don't get a speeding ticket in Buchanan County, Iowa, it'll get to you Madison.  But by in large, 4.5 hours in the Cornfield gets you from one Cornfield to, maybe, one Soybean Field.

I'm happy I live in a part of the world where 4.5 hours gets me to so many amazing cities with so much incredible stuff to do.  And the transportation system out East is such that you can almost always find a way to get somewhere you need to go at just about any point in the day.   But as I sat on the bus, somewhere in the middle of New Jersey (it all looks the same from the bus), I couldn't help but realize that while 4.5 hours in the Big Cornfield is ACTUALLY 4.5 hours in a big cornfield, it's a beautiful cornfield that most don't stop and appreciate.  I personally find nothing serene about the drive from DC to NYC.  It is nothing but time spent stressed out (which is why I take the bus).  But that same time period, driving through the Cornfield, I find it mellow, calming, and even a little zen.  So while I'm happy that 4.5 hours takes me from one great city to another, I sort of wish I got the cornfield in between.   

I want to be Nick Hornby

I'm totally serious.  Nick Hornby is absolutely one of the coolest people I don't know.  First of all, he writes amazing books.  I'll admit to enjoying some more than others (Slam is no High Fidelity kids) and I'm constantly astounded by his ability to put my thoughts into words and phrases that just never would have come to my mind.  I admire him for his life-long love of Arsenal (read Fever Pitch, don't bother with the movies) and his ability to discuss music without having one of those "I remember this song 'cause it was playing when . . ." moments (Songbook is incredible!).  And I love that part of his job is just to sit around and read.  And talk about it.  And essentially get paid for it.  'Cause I soooooo want to do that.

Right now I'm in the middle of his latest book Shakespeare Wrote For Money, the third collection of his columns from The Believer.  The Believer is a literary magazine that sadly costs as much as it is worth (ie $$$) but thankfully they also put Nick Hornby's columns into books.  His columns have kind of the greatest premise ever: a list of books Nick bought this month, a list of books he read this month, and a long discussion of the books, his life, and his general thoughts on literature.  Sometimes all he talks about is why he didn't really read.  I don't care if that might sound self-indulgent, it's always fascinating.  The column has ended, which is sad, but if you have the opportunity to pick up these books, please do.  He reads books I've never heard of and can't wait to pick up and stuff I would never read in a million years.  Sometimes, he even reads books I've already read.  But no matter what the columns are thought provoking and engaging.  They make me want to be a better reader, a better writer, and a generally more informed person, and it's hard to ask for much more from someone who I've never met and really want to be.

Current Song Obsession

I'm not going to lie, I tend to obsess over music.  I find a song that hits my fancy at a given moment and I'm hooked.  Sometimes for a week, sometimes more.  I can't hear it enough and I play it over and over again.  I'm pretty sure my neighbor hates me.  

But I don't care!  Current Song Obsession: Valerie Plame by the Decemberists.  The song came out a few months ago, but I didn't download it until last week and now I can't listen enough.  It's peppy and jumpy, despite being about Valerie Plame's CIA work and her eventual exposure as an agent.  The Decemberists are pretty well known for this type of folky, almost medieval storytelling in their stories (current song obsession runner up right now is Crane Wife 3), so I love that they took on a modern story.  This isn't a downer tale of any of President Bush's actions over the past 8 years or a call for peace against the Vietnam War, it's just a plunky song about a girl who ended up kind of dicked over by people peeved at her husband.  There is sort of a oompah sound to the song, with a bass line that seems similar to a german polka and I adore the "Hey Jude" moment at the end.  I'm kinda convinced everyone should have a moment where they hear their name song at the end of a song by a chorus in multi-part harmony; Valerie Plame's moment sounds perfect. 

Still in the cornfield . . . . 

The hazards of making the annual trip back to the cornfield for Thanksgiving is that with the family and friends comes the flight cancelations.  This year is no exception.  I decided to scout out possible Cyber Monday deals by going to the mall today and started rolling my eyes when Mom kept checking my flights.  But 2 hours before I was to take off, sure enough, my flight to Milwaukee was canceled.  We then hopped in the car to the airport, with me on hold with the airline.  The call lasted ONE HOUR AND 33 SECONDS.  Around 45 minutes of that I was on hold.  And at the end of it I was rebooked on a 5:55 am flight tomorrow morning.  The silver lining to this pretty mediocre tale of the airline industry vs mother nature is that I get to spend the night with my brother, which is consisting of ordering pizza, taking a seriously awesome shower, and watching TV on an obscenely large TV screen.  Rock on.

Shout out:  Apple Stores.  I don't have a blackberry or an iphone so I'm usually without internet access when I'm not glued to a computer.  I love Apple Stores 'cause they let you check your email (and flight times) for free and don't bug you to buy the macbook while you type (waste of breath anyway, I already own one).  So kudos to them, the free internet is MUCH appreciated.

So I used to have this blog what feels like half a bzillion years ago to keep my family and friends up-to-date on my adventures and thoughts during my year abroad.  And once I got back to the States I sort of let it go as I got wrapped up with moving to the east coast, getting a job, losing a job, working retail, getting another job, going to grad school, and getting yet another job.  Which was pretty dumb on my part 'cause it's clearly a good outlet for thoughts, musings, and observations.  Or I hope it is.  Anyway, I'm restarting this little gig.  So here goes.

Though this blog is titled "Life out of the big cornfield" I'm actually in the Cornfield as I restart this.  I'm at the end of my annual pilgrimage home for Thanksgiving.  My family does a great job with this holiday with my father cooking an amazing meal, my mother making outstanding pies, and the family hosting my dad's international students for a traditional thanksgiving dinner.  As much as I love living on the east coast, I really love trips home.  They sort of reset my system.  They remind me that life exists outside the beltway, that there are issues that Americans face that have nothing to do with big cities, and that there is a part of the world that remembers me when I was shorter, had longer hair, and was less cynical.  I was shopping at JC Pennys and the woman who rang me up proclaimed she didn't have to ID me (to check my credit card) because she had known me for over 25 years.  'Cause she also works at the grocery store my family has been going to for 28 years.  Part of me loves that this sort of thing never happens when I'm in DC; I sort of love the anonymity of big cities, with the "I could be anyone" vibe.  But part of me sort of misses the random people that knew me back when.

Either way, I'm headed out of the cornfield again tomorrow (weather permitting of course).  Back to anonymity, urban problems, work, metros, and smog.  It'll be good to be home.