Farewell To The Christmas Goose

What a holiday season it's been. Just getting home was an exercise in strategy reserved for the finest of board game players. Somehow, I was able to pull it off, landing an assignment in Raleigh, North Carolina transporting some computer equipment over to Durham for enough moolah to put in the tanks for the run to the ranch in Georgia.


By the time I turned into the winding driveway to my castle on the hill, night had fallen and my mercury vapor barn light was burning in all her glory. As I pulled the Fat Cat up to back her in next to the old red and white edifice out in the yard, I could see bright little feline faces along with one noisy canine son in the kitchen window to greet me with enthusiasm. Upon entering the house with my duffle, I could smell the holiday season in the form of freshly baked cookies. I slid open the pocket door to the cooking room and there he was, in a prominent stance facing the door...the Christmas goose. A venerable wooden fellow he is, about two feet tall with a Santa hat and gold tassel. Candy canes and goodies hang from his neck, draping along his back. Two big webbed wooden feet keep this purveyor of good cheer in place, even from scurrying kitties. This is a proud bird displaying his bill pointing upward. The goose has become a sort of tradition over the years at our house, taking his prominent place beginning at Thanksgiving and making his stand until the New Year. Said quite plainly and simply, when the goose goes up, it's Christmas.

The girls were glad to see me as I was to see them. With Louie and the kitties gathered around, coming home never gets old. I blinked my eyes and it was Christmas Eve. Cheryl and I travelled around town in an effort to finish some last minute shopping. Streisy kept busy with her work schedule at the grocery store. Busy is an understatement for what they do around the holidays. I'm proud that she's in that business. Grocery people are a hard working and genuine people. I know, I knew some from my days at the A & P.

My holiday is not complete until I attend worship services at my little hometown church. The final candle of advent was lit, bread was broken, the cup was raised and meaning restored to why we celebrate the birth of Christ.

Don't misunderstand and believe that my home time is one big vacation. I wish it was. How nice it would be to lay around continually watching The Sound of Music and Miracle on 34th Street. I did, however, get to see an encore of The Nativity Story. Now there's a great story of the birth of Christ.

Household chores and piled up yard work take time away from a good old fashioned slack. Don't get me wrong, working around the house gives me a sort satisfaction and if it didn't, I don't need to be living here. Two acres of yard and grass don't take care of themselves. You have to love mowing grass, and I do. Two days after Christmas, I mowed grass. And I loved it. You can do that here in Georgia this time of the year.

I did get to smoke a Ghorka "Assassin" while incinerating trash in the burn barrel. Now THAT was a stout smoke and it may has well have been a bullet in the noggin right between the eyes. I guess that's why they call it what they call it. If they come out with an "Oswald", I'd have to pass on that one. I like the "shaggys" or the "Black Dragon".

A whole week blew by and all of a sudden, it was New Year's Eve. Hey, wait a minute, aren't we entering a new decade? Wow, I remember when that kind of New Year was exciting...like ten years ago. TEN YEARS AGO? Has it been that long ago already? Dam. The turn of the century. Even ten years ago we were homebodies and didn't do anything special, but it was fun to watch all the big celebrations around the world beginning around noon on the eve. When I was a teenager, I would marvel at the fact that I would be forty three years old on January 1st, 2000. I think Dad helped me figure that out on a slide rule. I recall when 1970 came in, it seemed so modern. Back in those days, I kept track of the fact that the last number one song of the sixties on WABC in New York was Steam's "Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye". The national charts would have you believe it was "Leavin' On A Jetplane" by Peter, Paul and Mary. For 1980, I remember being at a party in a house trailer in Florida, watching the ball drop on a thirteen inch black and white TV. Now THAT, was a glamorous New Year's. These days, we begin our New Year's Eve at seven and end it at ten.

I stayed up to watch the ball drop in Times Square in sweats at home. It would feel odd to miss that. Dick Clark was still there. After suffering the kind of stroke he did a few years back, I give him a lot of credit for getting up there in front of millions in an effort to preserve tradition. It can't be for the money, lord knows he's got plenty. The bands of today on the broadcast sure weren't KC and The Sunshine Band or Bob Seger. The only one I recall was those Black Eyed Peas.

New Year's Day came and so the decorations went. It was a good holiday season, it's what I hoped for. This Christmas was better than last year's after the bad economy closed the auto dealership I worked at and put me in the bread line. Maybe next year will just as fun, or better. Hope never disappoints. Farewell Mr. Goose, see you next year.