Season's Greetings from Sunriver, Oregon

When we unlocked the cabin's front door and stepped inside, I had to hold back the tears. Tears of joy, that is.

I should have gotten a clue to what was in store when I noticed that the front steps and porch had been freshly shoveled. Once inside, we were greeted by soft music playing on the stereo and a cozy fire already lit in the gas stove in the corner. A welcome basket filled with gourmet cookies, a savory snack mix, an assortment of chocolates, and a bottle of wine was centrally placed on the kitchen counter.

The place was literally screaming "WELCOME!"

Oohing and awwing followed as we wandered around the rooms, tastefully decorated with "cabin decor" and attention to detail filling every cozy corner. Big fluffy pillows on the beds. A sofa and chairs that spoke "come sit here, sink in and stay awhile." Oversized fleece throws to wrap around our shoulders. A kitchen filled with everything we could possibly need and then some. An enclosed back deck with a hot tub. Huge pine trees all around, adding to the feelings of seclusion.

Peace.

It has been four years since our last family vacation. I was bound and determined that we would get in "one more" before Sam goes off to graduate school and into the rest of his life, with Rebecca right behind him. Bound and determined......more like hell-bent. You all know how I am when it comes to my family. I do think about things like how family vacations with the four of us won't be easy to accomplish too many more times. It's been impossible, as a matter of fact, over these past four years. Summer jobs or internships, differing spring breaks, and differing family temperaments made family vacations together a thing of the past.

Or so I thought.

All of our family vacations have involved "roughing it" in one form or another. While I do love cooking over a campfire, I wanted something more this time around. Something really special. Something wonderful to add to the family memory bank.

Looking ahead to the December holidays and figuring it to be the best time for us all to be "off" from school and work at the same time, I actually started the process of searching for the perfect getaway last January. For awhile, I dreamed of Hawaii. Then I was very attracted to Belize. Mexico?

Way, way, way out of our price range.

So, long story short, here we are near Bend, Oregon, just a half-days drive from home. A half-days drive and a world away from our daily routines, schedules, deadlines, stresses, hassles. How did I find this place? Through the wonders of the internet and a website called Vacation Rentals By Owner. I will definitely use this tool again, as what I found for us is exceeding my wildest dreams.

We went sledding today. The snow was perfect. Lots of deep, fresh powder fell overnight, transforming everything into the most beautiful winter wonderland. After a few trips down the hill myself, I was more content to sit on a hay bale and sip hot chocolate, watching Mark and the kids and our dog Mocha race each other.

The dog won, every time.

We will be here ten days. Ten glorious days. Days filled with outdoor activities, shopping excursions (gotta find the best thrift stores in Bend!!), local exploration. Evenings filled with meals we take turns preparing, card and board games (we are currently hooked on Bananagrams and a dominoes game called Mexican Train), watching movies, eating popcorn, reading books.......

OK, I just let out those tears after all. I am just so happy right now. My heart is full and I feel very, very blessed. This is my most special Christmas memory in the making.

Christmas morning (and I do expect to be awakened by the youngest member of the family, just like every year since she was about four) there will be just a few small things that "Santa" brought, tucked in near the fire for us to open. The real gift this Christmas is this gift we have given to each other. Time to be together. Time to talk, time to play, time to strengthen the bond. No distractions other than the free wireless internet service that enables me to do what I am doing right now. writing this blog while I am anticipating the penne pasta with Italian sausage and a fresh Caesar salad that's being prepared in the kitchen tonight, by someone other than me! (I was a tiny bit worried that the kids would retreat to their rooms with their laptops for the week, but so far that hasn't happened. This is huge, considering they are both in college and have facebook pages and email and love to look at fun stuff on You Tube or whatever.)

Merry Christmas. And God bless us, every one. Bless us with knowing the difference between wishing for/wanting what we can't have, and being happy with what we do have. So it ain't Hawaii. So instead of warm sunshine and miles of sandy beach, it's pale winter sunshine and deep fresh snow.

I have everything I've ever wanted, right here, right now.

The Leader of the Band

The leader of the band is tired

And his eyes are growing old

Dear Dad,

It’s Sunday evening. I have been thinking about you almost constantly all week, thinking about you way over there in Indianapolis, in the hospital again.

Again. I’ve lost count of how many times that makes in the past 12 months. Miraculously, you always seem to pull through it, every time. The combination of the power of all of our prayers, your positive attitude, and your very special sense of humor seems to work wonders.

But we all know that you are growing older, weaker, more tired with each passing day, with every hospital stay. Even though we keep our hopes up, we all know that none of us lives forever. We all know that we will someday have to go on, somehow, without you.

We will then most surely be looking forward to the day we will see each other again, in the life after this one.

There were so many things I wanted to say to you when Mark and I visited you and Mom in August. I tried to say them a couple of times, even tried to make a point to get you all to myself, alone out on your back deck. But I don’t think either one of us was completely ready. Instead, we were blessed with a few days of making a few more great memories together: fishing, playing dominoes, working a crossword puzzle, watching the hummingbirds and cardinals.

I’m ready to say those things to you now. I need to say those things to you now.

But his blood runs through my instrument

And his song is in my soul

You are a great dad. Fun, funny, wonderful father.

When I think about it, a lot of who and what I am today is due to your influence and example.


Sure, Mom was the more day-to-day “hands on” parent, and I know I mostly take after her when it comes to so many things, like organizing events and activities, doing all kinds of crafts, taking care of all the details, and sometimes agonizing over what other people think. The ratio of hours I talk to her to the hours I talk to you is probably something like 100 to 1. She’s the mirror I hold up to myself.

But you, you are the parent who gave me the music in my soul. It’s no accident that I eventually took up the dulcimer and taught myself to play it. It’s no accident that your grandson is the saxophone player that he is. That your granddaughter loves to sing. Your ability to pick up and play just about anything has always amazed me, and is the source of a great deal of wonderful childhood memories.


YOU are my sunshine.


My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy
To the leader of the band


You are the leader of the band. I think about you every time I hear this song on the radio, and about parts of my life being an “attempt” to imitate you. Working in my garden, filling my bird feeders, reading books about bees, listening to and singing along with old songs,…….with your quiet example, you taught me to enjoy all of these and other simple pleasures of life.


I also try to see the humor in every stressful situation, though I don’t always succeed like you do.


The leader of the band. You were the strong glue that held our family together. You worked hard, sometimes at two jobs, to make sure we all had everything we needed and then some. I will never know all the sacrifices you made for your wife and six kids. But please believe me, I do appreciate all you did to raise me.


He earned his love
Through discipline
A thundering, velvet hand
His gentle means of sculpting souls
Took me years to understand


When I was standing with you in your kitchen in August, you started talking about the times you used your belt on us kids. I could tell you were feeling bad about that, and I said something just to make light of it. Daddy, it’s OK! You and Mom raised us in an era when most people spanked their kids, and probably a lot more often than you did. The few times I do remember “meeting Charlie,” I also remember that I deserved it or drove you to it. Being a parent myself, I now completely understand those frustrations.


I thank you for the music
And your stories of the road
I thank you for the freedom
When it came my time to go --
I thank you for the kindness
And the times when you got tough
And, Papa, I don't think I
Said 'I love you' near enough --

The list of things I want to thank you for is long. Thank you for things like Christmas trees and presents magically appearing on Christmas morning. Thank you for Sunday cool-off rides and ice cream cones. Thank you for teaching me to fish. Thank you for games like Dead Mouse. Thank you for letting us “sneak” and stay up late watching scary movies with you. Thank you for all the popcorn, and for making us ice cream out of snow. Thank you for hikes in the woods, and for knowing so many things about animals, plants, folklore. Thank you for driving me to and from all my high school events, along with any of my friends who also needed a ride, even at the last minute. Thank you for looking so proud of me the day I graduated from college. Thank you for walking me down the aisle and putting my hand in Mark’s. Thank you for letting your grandchildren climb all over you.


Thank you for being the kind of Dad who lived up to the expectation that he would walk on his hands at every family reunion.


Thank you for being the kind of Dad whose creativity and resourcefulness provided our family’s famous “box on top of the car.”


Thank you for being the kind of Dad who rides a horse home from the mall.


Thank you for being the kind of Dad who jokes with his nurses about not shaving his beard because he’s had it since third grade. Who tells his doctors to make sure to tune the wires holding his sternum together to the key of G.


Thank you for being the kind of Dad who can make me laugh so hard I can’t see or breathe. Thank you for every single funny thing you’ve ever said, from “gweet” and “chout” to “beats hittin’ a dog.”


Thank you for showing all of us how to behave when faced with difficulty, when things get beyond our control. For reminding us that it’s OK to laugh, that it’s good to laugh, even when things don’t seem all that funny.


And, Papa, I don't think I
Said 'I love you' near enough –


I love you, Dad. With all my heart.


The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through
My instrument
And his song is in my soul --
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy
To the leader of the band


I am the living legacy
To the leader of the band.

Love you,