A Weird Christmas

 by Charlotte Hinger

This Christmas went awry. Even some of the church services that keep my heart in the right place were displaced due to extreme weather. 

It was the "off" year for our family gathering. By that we mean that everyone goes to the in-laws. Next year is "Hinger' Christmas. Which means we negotiate the time and place for my daughters, their spouses and all the grandchildren to show up.

But talk about "off." My daughter, Cherie hosted Christmas for her daughters at the new/old four-story house on the coast of North Carolina. It was 20 degrees outside and a mere 40 inside. They were totally miserable. The geo-thermal heating system wasn't built to cope with the extreme cold. So it gave up the ghost. The pipes froze. Even the dog was rolled up in extra padding. 

My youngest daughter, Mary Beth, worked long hours Christmas Day. She's the administrator of an assisted living/memory care center and ended up supplementing the ones who usually work the floor. She works in Raleigh, but lives in Clayton, NC. She suffered through a complete power outage and her pipes froze too. She showered at work. 

I was snug and happy here in Colorado where we are prepared for cold weather. Even so, no one is used to 17 degrees below. All activities were cancelled. Thankfully, our power stayed on.

My daughter, Michele and her husband, Harry, prepared a wonderful Christmas dinner and their daughter, Audrey, her husband, Pete, and the new baby, Francesca, came up from Denver. Nothing makes a day more joyful than the presence of a baby. For one blessed day, it felt like Christmas. 

Nevertheless, this Christmas was weird. Presents never arrived, or were misaddressed or something. We have a historically long message chain to one another trying to straighten out little messes. We exchange a large number of books and many of us ended up with the wrong ones. 

But guess what. Christmas came anyway. Despite the weather. Despite our bumbling. 

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas was one of my husband's favorite movies. Don's laugh was contagious. We all loved to watch him watch the movie. He delighted in the central message. 

Nothing can stop this special time of year. Christmas draws us closer to our families, to memories of times past, to an awareness of the needs of others who are less fortunate. 

We open our wallets and our hearts and for a brief season join a collective circle of humanity acutely aware of those without homes and families.

The season reminds us that we can do better for our fellow man. 

A Joyful Surprise

 My first live event since the Covid shutdown was at Fort Morgan, Colorado, a town with a population of about 1l,500. There were over 130 persons there at a beautifully organized luncheon. Tables of eight were laid with exquisite china and hand-lettered name plates. 

The organization hosting this was the Philanthropic Educational Organization (PEO) I couldn't have been more surprised by the attendance. I sold every book I brought, including the four copies of my academic book. I always overpack, so I this outing was easily my biggest money-making talk.

I'm not only a weird combination of pantser/plotter in my writing methods, that's my approach to talks also. All of my books, whether mysteries or historical novels, have a non-fiction element that serve as the foundation of my presentation. My knowledge of African American history is embarrassingly narrow. Believe me, in a general sense, I don't know anything. 

I focus on the experiences of Blacks in Kansas--and the Great Plains and Nicodemus, Kansas in particular. However, I know a lot about that particular subject. 

Sandra Dallas, a great and prolific Colorado writer, once said she didn't understand the writing process. I loved that comment. I don't understand it either. Since I slither back and forth between genres and fiction and non-fiction, it's easier to explain the non-fiction process. Academic non-fiction is analytical and miserably tedious. Fiction is a magical process, and I don't know what I mean by that.

I can't explain how I intuit the approach to take in talks. My content to this lovely group of women was focused on history. There was a spark of attentiveness from the very beginning. Another time I might switch immediately to crafting mysteries and some publishing experiences. 

I speak for about thirty minutes and then call for questions. When the talk has been focused on history, I have to keep myself severely reined in or I will talk for another thirty minutes on a subject raised in a question.

Before a meeting starts, I ask the person organizing the event for a volunteer to help with money at the table where I will be signing. This is essential. People will only wait so long to get a book signed. It the process drags out while an author is making change, etc., they will leave. 

I'm hard of hearing and a group of voices creating background noise makes the situation worse. Also, events are invariably held in a bad acoustical environment. Usually the venue has high ceilings and and smooth floors. I've started carrying little sticky notes with me and ask people to write out the name they want used for the autograph. It's amazing how many ways there are to spell common names. 

In this discouraging environment it's easy to forget that good things happen. Books are written. Books are read. And they last forever. 

Our Poor State

This picture was taken in the front of my house. The actual fire is miles away. Nevertheless this is what the sky looked like in Fort Collins on Wednesday. 

So many homes have been destroyed, so much acreage and trees. It's heartbreaking. The biggest fire in Colorado history is now competing with the second largest fire in Colorado history. 

I'm sorry to be so late posting this. I'm a little under the weather today. It's difficult to tell at this point what is causing a health problem. Covid, allergies, the flu, and an ordinary cold all have the same systems. Now smoke irritation has been added to the mix. I tend to error on the side of caution and self-isolate rather than risk infecting my friends or my family. 

I intended to report on a terrific talk given by Michael Gear and Kathleen Gear. They were the keynote speakers at the Women Writing the West conference. I'll save it for next time. 

Thanks!

Bewildered

 

Yesterday my daughter send me this picture taken west of her house. It's one of the many fires blazing in Colorado. She's safe, she says. The fires would have to jump Horsetooth Reservoir to reach their land.  

While the Colorado fires are not as vicious as those in California and Oregon, smoke and ashes drift and the air is filled with the aroma of destruction. 

What a sad year. This week we had a weather variation so unexpected that it's left everyone bewildered. It's as though Mother Nature has turned on us. It went from 96 degrees F. here in Fort Collins to 28 degrees F. in two days time. Trees and shrubs can't survive that severe a drop in temperature. 

My morning glories were suddenly snow capped and then drenched in ice. It's an annual plant that would not be alive in a couple of months anyway. But still, I wasn't ready to see them go. I wonder how my new bushes will fare. 

 

Last year, we had a preview of this kind of weather. Due to a sudden cold snap the trees lost their leaves before they had a chance to change color. They simply wilted and fell off without getting a chance to display the usual gorgeous array. Colorado aspens are famous for their magnificent foliage. Being deprived of fall is creepy. 

Deprivation of so many things is contributing to a gloomy lethargy right now. We have a lot to deal with. Covid, fires, the dreadful election politics, violence, unrest. 

Covid hit during the beginning of Lent. St. Luke's Episcopal could not have it's usual celebration of Easter. This denomination is highly liturgical and from Lent to Easter is a solemn ritual that I sorely missed even though our Diocese did a magnificent job of switching to on-line methods 

And the writers' conventions! I have to say that there was a hollow spot in my heart by the time June came and went without a trip to Western Writers of America. It's where I get my battery recharged every year. 

I'm proud of the country's ability to cope and come up with new ways. Groups and offices switched to Zoom in a heartbeat. Teachers and school children are the hardest hit, of course. I have no idea how they all manage. 

Hang in there everyone. We survived 9/11, the most horrific day in American history.

We will work our way through this year of plagues. 

Lying to Myself

No cute clip art this time. No adorable family photos.

Today I'm not trying to think positively about COVID-19 or all the economic ramifications. I tried that yesterday. As usual, when I lie to myself in the day time, my dreams make me face the cold hard truth. Dreams tell me how I really feel. Last night was not pleasant.

I'm grief-stricken for all the small businesses who will never recover from this worldwide catastrophe. My husband owned a livestock truckline for 23 years. I remember all too well the blood, sweat, and tears that went into keeping it afloat. In most small businesses the margin of profit is very small.

I haven't delved into the details of the massive government bailout yet. But I hope this time around there is some protection against executives getting millions of dollars in bonus payments and small business left to sink or swim. There is nothing sadder than employers having to lay off people who have been with companies for years.

As a college town, Fort Collins has a network of lively cafes and bistros. Today we are under an official stay-at-home order. I can't imagine how all of these places will find the money to crank back up again when our situation changes. My friend up the street said her dog groomer was not allowed to open her doors. My neighbor, said his massage therapists was under the same "non-essential" designation. The fine for violating this is $1000.

I'm reluctant to write too much about our new rules in this email because they change daily. Colorado has a first class medical system. I consider it a privilege to live in the state. We brag about being the most fit state in the union. Nevertheless, the virus has just exploded here. We have a much higher death rate than I would expect. Everyone I know is cooperating.

Life doesn't change much for writers. I have a delightful academic book about Kansas to review. An editor requested some revisions for a novella.

Nevertheless, my thoughts and prayers are with all the wonderful people who lead very different lives, and whose ability to provide necessities require working in the public every day.

God bless all the health care workers and the people who are exposed on a daily basis