Archive for the Little Drummer Boy Category

The History of Time Part I or Isn’t That Redundant?

Posted in Little Drummer Boy, Shumans Jelly Cake, Vienna Choir Boys on December 24, 2010 by smpiv

I’m a time traveler.

Don’t be alarmed.

We all are.

Go into your back yard on a clear night and look into the past.

Know that the light from our Sun will and has visited other planets—a record of our passing.

Will we ever see or hear from others in this universe?

No.

Are they there?

Yes.

We are mired in our own existence—our own stream of time.

Somehow we have been allowed to elevate ourselves from our biological clocks.

Perception.  Knowing.  Consciousness.

Why?

Don’t know.

Know this, we exist and we are, but for what?

Don’t know.

I do know that I was visited by a Christmas Miracle, just the other day, and it allowed me the pleasure of time travel.

A Shuman’s Jelly Cake.  A pizza sized three layer cake with two layers of jelly (currant jelly).  For my family—the Reynolds side, my Mimi’s side, it was the sign of something good, something happy, and something worth celebrating.

It arrived in the mail.

Let’s be honest—very few presents in our lives have really touched us.  For most of us it’s actually the act of giving a present and not receiving one that gives us the greatest pleasure.

Two stand out for me.

One of them I gave myself—inadvertently.  I went to the Meyerhoff in Baltimore to see the Vienna Choir Boys sing Christmas music.  Part of their repertoire that night was “Little Drummer Boy”, my absolute favorite Christmas song. 

Now the best version of “Little Drummer Boy” is the David Bowie/Bing Crosby version blending “Little Drummer Boy” and “Peace on Earth” (if you’ve, somehow, never heard it go to Youtube).  And that night, in the presence of those magical and angelic voices singing “Little Drummer Boy”, my past crashed into my well padded seat.

All my Christmases past—decorating trees, unwrapping presents, wrapping presents, all of it, came to the fore.  Unwrapping Mimi’s box of pencils, tape, writing pads, etc all unwrapped themselves again; taping a Christmas message for my father as he floated and sweltered off the coast of Vietnam, recorded again.  And, yes, sitting to watch the Vienna Choir Boys sing their Christmas Special on the TV.

It was crushing and overwhelming and a moment I’ll never forget.

Secondly was a bread machine that my brother and sister gave me years ago.  I don’t know why it’s so special, but it was and is and I still make bread with it.

And now one very special Shuman’s Jelly Cake, among many, stands out as one of those special gifts.

Having no idea what it was when it arrived, I opened the box to be greeted by the gold Shuman’s sticker holding together the heavy white paper that had been strung up with the red and white piped string–a beautiful thing.

Such a simple thing, but so weighty in its surprise—it might as well have been the proverbial pony, I was so delighted and like my Vienna Choir Boys, a time machine.

All my cousins’ visits to Sherwood are in that cake; all our visits to Cape Saint Claire to see my Aunt Jane and Uncle Joe (my Mimi’s little brother) are in that cake; all the baptisms, the weddings, and now, sadly, the funerals are in that cake.  A time capsule.

We all try to make our holidays special for ourselves and our families and much of it is invention.  They are all well intentioned motions and as I’ve reviewed here, it’s impossible to tell what might actually hit home.

I am no different and I somehow managed to keep from un-wrapping that cake until Min came home from school with the intention of sharing the moment with him–to share a Holiday moment with my son.  He didn’t like it.

Oh, well—he’ll have his own cherished moments.

In any case I hope everyone in my little universe has a wonderful Holiday.  I hope that you have the time to remind yourself of those truly special moments in your life that well up behind your eyes and remind you that you’re alive.  I hope that you can slow down and enjoy something truly delicious. 

I think my TV has been returned to my control and I can feel the weight of my body pushing into my seat.  It’s time to sign off.

Be good, be blessed and appreciate what you have.  Merry Happy Everything.