I was always irritated and dismayed when my parents would say “don’t get me anything,” when I asked them what they’d like for Christmas. Because, well, you kind of have to give people something, especially important people like those who brought you into this world. But, I’m so there now. I might be getting old. I might be getting wise, though. Don’t get me anything. There’s enough stuff already.
I was never an Environmentalist, in fact, I kind of hate those jerks for the most part (another story for another day). But, I have on occasion tried to make smarter choices with regard to being a rampant consumer of disposable things. This is kind of my speed:
Until I read about a Twice-the-size-of-Texas-sized pile of junk in the Pacific that’s been swirling around in the currents for years, killing birds.
Albatrosses, nonetheless... ironic, no? Chris Jordan, an artist (He’s also the guy who’s done stunning pictures of what a year’s worth of water bottles looks like, and all that jazz), has done an amazing, disturbing, heart wrenching, curiosity-piquing, morbid, necessary photo documentary on the innards of dead birds who ate so much plastic there was no room for food. They starved. With full bellies. Yeah, I know. Insane. Scary. Happening. Right now. *Shudder* I will spare you a sample of those images, but, click the link and check them out.
So, this morning, I’m drinking coffee, perusing Amazon at work, (like ya do) pondering what I’m going to tell my parents I want for Christmas, a phone call I always dread because I feel like a materialistic child talking about want, want, want... and I had settled on one of those awesome one-cup coffee makers by Keurig that makes a single cup at a time of whatever coffee you want, using pod thingies in a bajillion different flavors. I thought, I could have a pumpkin spice, followed by a double-dark, followed by an Earl Grey tea, followed by a hot chocolate, followed by a well... you get the point. It’s like a buffet of beverages, right on your own countertop! A fun toy! For grown-ups! It makes realistic whooshing noises! Whee!
Until I remembered the birds.
And the garbage island.
And then... I was more than a little upset.
I mean, not that my NOT buying those K-cups and enjoying pod coffee would put the company out of business, but, the 1,000 pods (or more, because, well... self-control issues abound) a year that I would use – that I won’t be using now, will not be in the bellies of those birds, and I’m okay with that. And so, I remembered “the reason for the season,” like they say in the greeting cards. And while I’ve been as much a good Catholic girl as I am an environmentalist... I’m actually feeling the vibe this time around. This year, I’m less “can we get the giant inflatable Santa on a Harley?” and more, “let’s light a candle tonight at dinner.”
I blame it in part on OS and the wonderful inspirational messages by people like you (I’m pointing at you, Monte Canfield), who write some really good meaty stuff... The reason for the season for me is celebration, gratitude, purpose, hope, wonder, and love. The gifts we have, the gifts we give, the gifts we want... should be simply sharing in one another. Grace. Talent. Care. Making the best out of what we have.
Like the Little Drummer Boy (one of my all-time favorite songs, holiday-themed or no):
Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.
Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,
On my drum?
Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.
Sheesh, that one makes me cry every single time. Happy holiday season, everyone. Don’t leave the bag in the car. Stop killing birds. And could someone call my parents for me, because, I’m still dreading that conversation. So, what about you -- has something you've read, thought about, seen, or discussed with someone here affected your wish list?
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Here's a kickass fair trade online and off line (haha) shop where you could get your parents one nice things instead of plastic stuff that could kill the birds.
http://www.tenthousandvillages.com/
Thank you so much for the link, Gwen. You rock. And, I appreciate you stopping by, Ash -- happy holidays, girls!
All you have to do is call my mother for me and listen to her 90-plus minutes of hypochondria. And take the guilt trip for me. Okay? Let me know.
Love candles but I miss your face already. Dig this, hold the candle and take a pic.
Out.
Hmm.... I think charming my parents socks off would be a Christmas miracle. Sold. You're already spoken of in wistful reverence around these parts.
P.S. telling me you miss my face is the nicest thing I've heard in a long time. The shot you describe would maybe be lovely... or, could possibly cause nightmares in the way that people telling ghost stories around campfires scare you with the flashlight on their faces... we'll have to see. Thanks for the tip, wait'll I tell my peeps that I'm getting photo compositin advice from a fantastic artist. How hip!
Kathy: Wonderful idea, it sounds so dreamy (please post some pictures!); I'm going with the fake tree and real pine boughs/wreaths plan to get that piney vibe without murdering the whole tree. I think. If I keep procrastinating my decorating, we'll just be putting presents under the gigantic dust bunnies.
I love The Little Drummer Boy, too. I guess it kind of tells me that if I am doing my best, it will be OK.
LMR: Thanks for stopping by. Doing our best and being mindful of the effect our choices have on the rest of the universe is all we can do. Keep on keepin' on. :o)
This year, my boyfriend and I rolled handmade meatballs and simmered them in his incredibly delicious from-scratch tomato sauce (it's good to be in love with an Italian!), which we're freezing up and giving out to family for the holiday. It's our version of the little drummer boy. Plus, the freezer containers will probably be reused for a multitude of purposes after the fact, and hopefully not end up floating around in the ocean for a while.
Merry Christmas to you and yours!