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Re: [genpcncfir] A man's Christmas passages....

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  • Faye Silliman
    You must write all this down and publish, my dear. What a beautiful story. May be that we all have a special holiday story to share. Thank you. ...
    Message 1 of 5 , Dec 11, 2006
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      You must write all this down and publish, my dear.
      What a beautiful story.

      May be that we all have a special holiday story to
      share.

      Thank you.

      --- Carol Singh <csinghworthington@...> wrote:

      > Dear Bob,
      > This is absolutely wonderful! Since my brother's
      > once coppper colored beard has turned snow white, my
      > jovial brother can easily pass for Santa.
      > From a feminine perspective, the story has a
      > different slant.
      > The day I awakened and realized that I was Santa
      > was the first Christmas after my marriage when I no
      > longer stirred on Christmas morning to the magic and
      > mystery of Christmas with Mama and Uncle Mark.
      > Of course at the age of 25 years, I knew that a
      > human, or an elf at least, helped Santa make
      > Christmas
      > dreams come true. Still, both Mama and Uncle Mark
      > could stretch a dollar further than anyone I have
      > ever
      > known. Our living room was always a wonder to behold
      > on Christmas morning.
      > In the days before my first Christmas in my own
      > home, I woke up thinking how precious it would be to
      > capture that specialness for my new family at
      > Christmas. That was when I realized in a very
      > different way that Santa is real and that he had
      > passed on to me the legacy of keeping the spirit
      > alive
      > and of making dreams come true.
      > I learned that Christmas was far more than things
      > the Christmas of 1961 when someone set fire to our
      > house, and we lost every thing we had, but
      > thankfully,
      > we still had one another.
      > Mama was in the hospital recovering from yet
      > another
      > surgery following her diagnosis of metastatic
      > uterine
      > cancer three years earlier. The previous year our
      > stepfather had had a massive heart attack the week
      > before Thanksgiving and died before the rescue squad
      > could reach the house in the driving sleet.
      > Still only a few days post-op, Mama was too weak
      > even to stand on her feet. Our uncle was home
      > recovering from t.b. following his release from the
      > sanitarium after an 18-month stay, but had seen the
      > flames from the safety of the kitchen in time to
      > escape the fire.
      > When kind neighbors drove me to the hospital to
      > find
      > Mama distraught as I was the only one unaccounted
      > for,
      > I was touched my her belief that I had run back into
      > the house to save the jewelry she had bought for me
      > through the years.
      > In the midst of our pain over being homeless, we
      > came to know one another as we had never before
      > done.
      > Mama's lessons on the value of things had indeed
      > been
      > passed on to her daughter. What mattered to me was
      > having Mama, not the things she had given me.
      > For me, that was a life altering event. At
      > Christmas especially, each one of us embodies the
      > spirit of Santa. Through us, Santa, too, will always
      > be with us.
      > By the way, a neighbor's son, a close friend of
      > my
      > brother, had saved my jewelry. Despite Uncle Mark's
      > pleas, he had grabbed a ladder from the workshop and
      > climbed onto the roof of the burning house to break
      > into my room and snatch my jewelry box. Can you
      > imagine that?
      > Later, Carol
      > --- "bforbes@..."
      > <bforbes@...> wrote:
      >
      > > In reply to:
      > >
      > > "I have not heard about the 4 stages of a man's
      > life
      > > related to Santa.
      > > Please tell.
      > > suzanne"
      > >
      > > OK, well, there are really only 4 stages to a
      > man's
      > > life, and all of them
      > > seem to revolve around Christmas:
      > >
      > > Stage 1 - He BELIEVES in Santa Claus :-)
      > >
      > > Stage 2 - He NO LONGER BELIEVES in Santa :-(
      > >
      > > Stage 3 - He realizes he IS Santa <;-)>
      > >
      > > Stage 4 - He looks MORE & MORE LIKE Santa every
      > year
      > > <:-)>>>
      > >
      > > I believe I'm somewhere between Stages 3 and 4....
      >
      > >
      > > bforbes@...
      > >
      > >
      > >
      > >
      >
      --------------------------------------------------------------------
      > > mail2web - Check your email from the web at
      > > http://mail2web.com/ .
      > >
      > >
      > >
      >
      >
      >
      >
      >
      ____________________________________________________________________________________
      > Need a quick answer? Get one in minutes from people
      > who know.
      > Ask your question on www.Answers.yahoo.com
      >




      ____________________________________________________________________________________
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    • Carol Singh
      Dear Faye, It s so generous of you to share your thoughts. Thank you very much. Mama and Uncle Mark were incredibly strong and wise. I always felt I was
      Message 2 of 5 , Dec 11, 2006
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        Dear Faye,
        It's so generous of you to share your thoughts.
        Thank you very much.
        Mama and Uncle Mark were incredibly strong and
        wise. I always felt I was lacking that special
        something that they had--compassion, selflessness, and
        wisdom. With the wisdom came self-examination and
        self-knowledge, the ability to ask questions and to
        lose without demeaning oneself--equating losing with
        being a loser. Even yet, I continue to work on those
        last ones. What was so natural for Mama and Uncle Mark
        were so unnatural for me.
        I think the difference was that I wanted more than
        anything for them to be proud of me, and I equated
        that with never having to say "I don't know."
        What I did not understand from the very beginning
        was that they were proud of me. I did not have to
        "make" them proud of me.
        Because of my feelings, I walked a very careful
        path with my own children, perhaps too careful a path.
        I was fearful that they would love me too much and
        think me much stronger and wiser than I actually was.
        If they did, then they might think less of themselves
        and of their abilities.
        What happened was their thinking I didn't care
        about them, that I lived in the world of ideas. The
        truth was very different.
        I enjoyed ideas. I loved people and loved them for
        themselves, not for their ideas.
        I do not know if where you are there is the t.v.
        program called "Numbers." It's about Charlie, a
        mathematics professor, and his brother an F.B.I.
        agent. Charlie is a genius who uses math to solve
        crimes for his brother.
        He represses his feelings because he is
        uncomfortable with them. He is uncomfortable with them
        because he doesn't trust them. He can't prove them. He
        has nothing to measure them against. He comes close to
        our idea of the "mad scientist" who is a recluse. My
        children still think of me like that, but I am so not
        like that.
        True, when working on something, I am incredibly
        focused, but not at all like Charlie where it's normal
        for him to be "in his shell," as Mama called it.
        So, all this leads to why I wanted to give my own
        family the magic of Christmas.
        At least for my son, who is my first born, I know
        from his special phone call to me last night that I
        succeeded.
        I am beginning to see signs in my daughter, a new
        mother with her own little girl. After long years,
        that's encouraging.
        Later, Carol
        --- Faye Silliman <eyafydal@...> wrote:

        > You must write all this down and publish, my dear.
        > What a beautiful story.
        >
        > May be that we all have a special holiday story to
        > share.
        >
        > Thank you.
        >
        > --- Carol Singh <csinghworthington@...> wrote:
        >
        > > Dear Bob,
        > > This is absolutely wonderful! Since my
        > brother's
        > > once coppper colored beard has turned snow white,
        > my
        > > jovial brother can easily pass for Santa.
        > > From a feminine perspective, the story has a
        > > different slant.
        > > The day I awakened and realized that I was
        > Santa
        > > was the first Christmas after my marriage when I
        > no
        > > longer stirred on Christmas morning to the magic
        > and
        > > mystery of Christmas with Mama and Uncle Mark.
        > > Of course at the age of 25 years, I knew that a
        > > human, or an elf at least, helped Santa make
        > > Christmas
        > > dreams come true. Still, both Mama and Uncle Mark
        > > could stretch a dollar further than anyone I have
        > > ever
        > > known. Our living room was always a wonder to
        > behold
        > > on Christmas morning.
        > > In the days before my first Christmas in my own
        > > home, I woke up thinking how precious it would be
        > to
        > > capture that specialness for my new family at
        > > Christmas. That was when I realized in a very
        > > different way that Santa is real and that he had
        > > passed on to me the legacy of keeping the spirit
        > > alive
        > > and of making dreams come true.
        > > I learned that Christmas was far more than
        > things
        > > the Christmas of 1961 when someone set fire to our
        > > house, and we lost every thing we had, but
        > > thankfully,
        > > we still had one another.
        > > Mama was in the hospital recovering from yet
        > > another
        > > surgery following her diagnosis of metastatic
        > > uterine
        > > cancer three years earlier. The previous year our
        > > stepfather had had a massive heart attack the week
        > > before Thanksgiving and died before the rescue
        > squad
        > > could reach the house in the driving sleet.
        > > Still only a few days post-op, Mama was too weak
        > > even to stand on her feet. Our uncle was home
        > > recovering from t.b. following his release from
        > the
        > > sanitarium after an 18-month stay, but had seen
        > the
        > > flames from the safety of the kitchen in time to
        > > escape the fire.
        > > When kind neighbors drove me to the hospital to
        > > find
        > > Mama distraught as I was the only one unaccounted
        > > for,
        > > I was touched my her belief that I had run back
        > into
        > > the house to save the jewelry she had bought for
        > me
        > > through the years.
        > > In the midst of our pain over being homeless, we
        > > came to know one another as we had never before
        > > done.
        > > Mama's lessons on the value of things had indeed
        > > been
        > > passed on to her daughter. What mattered to me
        > was
        > > having Mama, not the things she had given me.
        > > For me, that was a life altering event. At
        > > Christmas especially, each one of us embodies the
        > > spirit of Santa. Through us, Santa, too, will
        > always
        > > be with us.
        > > By the way, a neighbor's son, a close friend of
        > > my
        > > brother, had saved my jewelry. Despite Uncle
        > Mark's
        > > pleas, he had grabbed a ladder from the workshop
        > and
        > > climbed onto the roof of the burning house to
        > break
        > > into my room and snatch my jewelry box. Can you
        > > imagine that?
        > > Later, Carol
        > > --- "bforbes@..."
        > > <bforbes@...> wrote:
        > >
        > > > In reply to:
        > > >
        > > > "I have not heard about the 4 stages of a man's
        > > life
        > > > related to Santa.
        > > > Please tell.
        > > > suzanne"
        > > >
        > > > OK, well, there are really only 4 stages to a
        > > man's
        > > > life, and all of them
        > > > seem to revolve around Christmas:
        > > >
        > > > Stage 1 - He BELIEVES in Santa Claus :-)
        > > >
        > > > Stage 2 - He NO LONGER BELIEVES in Santa :-(
        > > >
        > > > Stage 3 - He realizes he IS Santa <;-)>
        > > >
        > > > Stage 4 - He looks MORE & MORE LIKE Santa every
        > > year
        > > > <:-)>>>
        > > >
        > > > I believe I'm somewhere between Stages 3 and
        > 4....
        > >
        > > >
        > > > bforbes@...
        > > >
        > > >
        > > >
        > > >
        > >
        >
        --------------------------------------------------------------------
        > > > mail2web - Check your email from the web at
        > > > http://mail2web.com/ .
        > > >
        > > >
        > > >
        > >
        > >
        > >
        > >
        > >
        >
        ____________________________________________________________________________________
        > > Need a quick answer? Get one in minutes from
        > people
        > > who know.
        > > Ask your question on www.Answers.yahoo.com
        > >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        ____________________________________________________________________________________
        > Want to start your own business?
        > Learn how on Yahoo! Small Business.
        > http://smallbusiness.yahoo.com/r-index
        >




        ____________________________________________________________________________________
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