Merry Christmas vs Happy Holidays . . . Who gives a rats ass?

The above debate has occurred, with precision, this time every year, but this time around people on both sides of the fence seem especially boisterous, if not exceptionally intelligent.

My two cents follow:

1. The Tree. I find it fascinating that self-described Christians are fighting so hard to keep the ancient Greek work for 'mesiah' attached to a pre-Christian Druidic symbol for spring and the sun. News flash: Christmas trees are not part of any Catholic/Protestant/Christian/etc. dogma that I am aware of. I'm not completely up to date on my bible, but I missed the part where God spake "Thou shalt cut down a connifer and erect it in thine dwelling, and having done so, decorate it with lights and shiny bits in honor my sons birthday." (An aside: all the evidence in the bible points to Jesus being born in the spring. We celebrate it in the dead of winter because it was easier than getting the Druids and the Celts to change their honly days.)

2. People wishing you a "Happy holiday:" It is simply rude to assume that when someone wishes you happiness in this season, that they are doing it because they hate Jesus and want him out of Christmas. Most likely, they are simply whishing you happiness, at worst, they are trying to be PC, and still wishing you happiness. (For all you non-believers out there, the reverse applies. I mean, seriously. They're not trying to convert you; they just want you to be happy.)

3. Store use of the C-word in advertising: If you are truly in touch with your faith, the spirit of the season, and meaning behind Jesus' birth, death, and resurrection, then you should be appalled at the very idea that some multinational corporation should use his birth to encourage nothing more than crass comsumerism. Imagine the outrage if Jews saw an ad saying "Yaweh says shop Sears for all your hannaukah needs," or if Muslims saw Wal-Marts new slogan "Make like Mohammed and shop Wal-Mart this Rammadan." Christians should not be fighting for stores to continue what basically amounts to blasphemy, or at least, taking the Lord's Name in vain.

Never have I been so happy to hide behind bureaucracy.

A lady customer approached me at the self-checkout I was manning, carrying a bottle powdered instant breakfast.

"Can you buy this with food stamps?"

I checked on the computer and said no, you can't.

"Well, you should fix that, because I have this for breakfast every morning so it's food." She inflected the word you, as if I, personally, could effect the change.

"Oh ma'am, I don't make that descion."

"Well who does?" she said testily, looking around as if that person might be walking past at the moment.

"State of Idaho, Department of Health and Welfare"

She rolled her eyes, made an exasperated noise (somewhere between a sigh and a growl), and stalked off.

Sydney

will be six months old this week, and I can hardly know where to begin. First of all, she's the wrong age. I can't tell weather it feels like we've had her forever, or only a few days, but it really seems she's the wrong age.

Syd is turing into a little person, as opposed to a baby. Babies just eat, sleep, cry and crap themselves, and while Sydney does her fair share of that, she is also getting a personality, with her own set of likes and dislikes. She loves her little Sesame Street car that makes noise when you push buttons. She loves cords, strings and cables of any kind. When she's on the floor in the living room, we have to be careful or she'll make her way over to the Dreamcast and Xbox cables and start gumming them, and occasionally pull them out. (Did I mention she mobile? MOre on that in a moment.) She hates being put to bed or down for a nap, but always sleeps really well.

She is increadibly good tempered, particualrly in the morning. This makes us wonder if she was switched in the hospital, because Nomi and I are not, nor have we ever been, morning people.

Mobility! Sydney is thiiiiiiis clost to crawling. She been able to roll around for a while, but now she's getting the knees and hands into position for crawling. She can sometimes make one or two crawling steps, forward, but mostly what she does is fall down or go backwards. Going backwards pisses her off something fierce. She can see the toy she wants, and trys to go for it, but ends up farther away.

She smiles and laughs a lot, and I have discovered there is very little I won't do for that smile.

about half past midnight, we found ourselves on Main Street in Nyssa, OR. We had been driving since about eleven, more or less randomly, and philosophizing, as is our wont. We were immeaditly struck by how cool Main Street was under the streetlamps, when we saw an illuminated sign reading "Nyssa Tavern."

Someone said, "We should stop and get a beer."

"Are they open?"

"Yes!"

"I'm there!"

So we pulled over. The bar was long and narrow, dimly lit and smokey. Pool table. Juke-box.

Red States vs Blue State and Having Children

Was chatting with my Phillip the Wise (he can quote Gollum in Polish; it doesn't get wiser than that) and he was wondering why rural areas of the country and world tend to have more children than in urban places. I expained that out on the farm, another kid is another pair of hands to get some work done. It you live in a place where you must walk three miles every day for water, then extra legs means more water, whereas in a city, all children do is cost money; from a strictly economic standpoint, having a kid is the worst financial decision we could ever make, short of actually setting money on fire. Phil then wondered why areas with a tendancy toward more children tend to be more conservative. I pondered that for a while, and think I may have come upon a (possible) connection based on my (limited) parenting experience.

As of 05.25.05 (my daughters birthday) I had a pretty god handle on the world. I knew, for the most part, which things were hurtful and dangerous and which things were good and healthy. This is not to say I was the be all end all when it comes to morality and safety, but my wife and I were comfortable in the world at large and had spent much of the pervious nine months talking about how to explain that world to Sydney.

The problem is, the world keeps changing. All this new stuff is coming down the pipe: new drugs, new technology, new research, new dangers, new pleasures, etc. And I suddenly find myself in the position of having to evaluate all these new things not in terms of weather or not they're good for me, but weather or not they're good for my family. Right now, it's not so hard because Syd is still a baby, and unable to think about this stuff for herself, but that will change very quickly. She will start walking and talking and appprehending the world in a manner completely her own. As she grows older and becomes more and more independent, it will be harder and harder for me to make sure she's judging The New in a way that is healthy and right.

If you think back to the last election and the genisis of Red State vs. Blue State (an aside: I despise this term. It is divisive and jingo-istic.) the blue states/areas tended to be closer to large urban centers and red states/areas tended to be more rural. Here is a county by county map to refresh your memory. (Although I prefer the Purple America map as it shows how much more united the country is. It also demonstrates my point, but it's a little harder to tell.)

It seems that areas that have a tradition or necesscity of larger families also have, at least recently, a tradition of political conservitivism as well. I think this effect applies globally as well. If you look at urban, industrialized countries (Great Britain, France) versus more rural countries (Saudi Arabia, Iran) the urban countries trend towards a political liberalism, while the other countries trend conservitive.

I wonder is anyone more learned than I has ever said anything on the subject?

I have had a few of what I like to call Old Man Moments

A few weeks ago, I had Sydney in my arms while we walked through the park. A mother with her young child point our way and said, "Look! There's a daddy with his baby!"

I actually turned to see who she was pointing at before I realized she was pointing at me. I had to fight the urge to run over to this woman and explain that I'm not as old as I look.

Also:

I walked in on two of the younger people at work discussing last summers Warped Tour and I mentioned that I've always wanted to go, but never have; for whatever reason, I just don't go to concerts. Josh (17) said, "You should really go, it's a blast."

Daniel (18) looked at me and said, "Do you even like that kind of music?"

The Other Day At Work

I saw a forgotten pink balloon, barely able to float three inches off the ground for the weight of it's ribbons. I picked it up, trimmed the excess ribbon, and taped it to my work station. For some reason, it was important to me to save this balloon, and it made me happy to place it where others could see.

When I got back from break, someone had thrown it away.