I’m sitting here in my big, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room, thinking…I’d better put up a new blog and podcast. But because of the power outages of the last week caused by the snow up in Massachusetts where my son David posts the podcasts, the Willie Nelson podcast didn’t go up till Thursday night, and I think you’re going to like it…so I’m going to give it a few days more up at the top of the podcast list.
Meantime…it’s about time to start asking you to send your annual Christmas letters. My Email address is dick@dicksummer.com, or you can just tag them on to the “Comments” section under this blog. I love hearing about your Christmas memories, and your New Year hopes. And I think the rest of our little “huddle” does too. If you’re a new member of the group, these don’t need to be elaborate, carefully composed letters. But they do need to be real. As in honest. And it helps if they come more from the heart than from the head.
I’ll start you off with one of mine. I met my Lady Wonder Wench in Boston. We worked at the same radio station. When she showed up in my studio, it felt like she strapped a couple of rockets onto my life, and lit the fuse. When we started out, she was my secretary, and I was her, “Boss.” Somewhere along the line…that line of command seems to have changed. But like most guys, I like to growl around a little, and take command, because, I AM THE GUY. That usually happens when we take a long car trip…even when it’s in her car…which is usually the case, because her car has hardly any dents in it.
There’s a story line thread here. When I was a kid growing up in Brooklyn, I had a dream about driving down the West Side Drive in Manhattan, with a beautiful woman sitting next to me in a car, going to work at my favorite radio station, WNEW. Lady Wonder Wench was there the first morning I got to take that drive for real. She also drove home with me a lot of years later, the night I got fired at WNBC. That was the night I told her I was going to quit radio and open a hypnotherapy practice. She knew that meant going from a comfortable New York Radio guy’s salary to lots of weeks with no income at all, till things got rolling. She just smiled up at me, and said, “We can do it.” And we did.
She brought up children with me. Several of them, as grown ups, still consider her to be their best friend and most trusted advisor. She’s certainly my best friend and advisor, and it will be that way when and if I ever manage to grow up.
She flies right seat with me in our little airplane…she runs the radios…and helps with the navigation…as in…”Shouldn’t we be over THERE ?” She puts up with my plastic potato pop gun battles with my buddy Randy next door. And when I grew a mustache the week she took a trip with our daughter Kris and a couple of other lady friends…and I went to pick her up at the airport…and I pulled my hat down over my eyes, put on my Ray Ban shades, and lurked…and when she showed up…she didn’t recognize me. So I sneaked up on her and gave her a big kiss…and she started to swing her handbag at me…then figured out what was going on, and practically fell down laughing.
We’re coming up on another Christmas now, and I haven’t found a suitable present for her yet. I started looking for one around last Valentine’s day. I remember our first Christmas together…she was standing with me on a snow covered Boston Common. Boston outlawed Christmas celebrations in the 1600s, as you may know. But Boston makes up for it with the beautiful display they put up every year on the Common now.
Boston Common is a park right in the middle of the city. I was doing a broadcast from our radio station’s trailer that year. There were lights on every tree in the park…and a light blanket of snow on the ground. She was so beautiful. For quite a few Christmases after that…all the way back then, I wasn’t supposed to love her. So she stood alone, apart from her family and friends, because that’s the only way she felt she could stand with me. But ever since that time passed, she has stood beside me. She stood beside me singing in my Dad’s Christmas Choir…and she stood beside me on the day he died. She stood beside me when I was out of work on a pretty tough Christmas Eve a few years ago.
I’m looking for the kind of present that I know will make her close her eyes, and lift her left shoulder up to her ear like she does when something special happens. I like it when she does that. And Santa Claus is really coming to town again pretty soon, so I better get busy looking. I like Santa…and the fact that “He sees you when you’re sleeping, and knows when you’re awake.” It’s nice to know that he’s always paying attention to you. That’s kind of rare these days isn’t it?
So that’s my first Christmas story for this year. It’s not poetic. And Santa might frown on some of it, I know. But it’s honest, and it’s from the heart. I guess you could sum it up by simply saying, love comes when you least expect it…even when you do your best to avoid it. Sometimes it just…starts…on a very cold Christmas Eve night…and you find that it keeps you warm for a long, long, long, very long time.
Maybe forever.
Your turn.