Trip through the Christmas tree

I meant to make this post earlier in the season, but the time got away from me. Blog posts were taken up with actual things I did. This morning, though, I'd like to take you on a little tour of my Christmas tree. I have a tradition of buying a Christmas ornament when I go on a trip. Any place where I spend a decent amount of (enjoyable) time qualifies. I kicked off the effort when I was nine years old, in Atlantic City, where I used to spend summer vacations with my parents. I saw a clear globe in the gift shop, with sand and glitter and tiny poker chips and dollar bills inside. I begged my mom to buy it, so it could remind us of summer vacation at Christmas time. She did, and it did. Since then I've amassed a nice collection of ornaments, the goal being to capture with each something that will remind me of the trip. Every year, decorating the tree brings me back in time. To, almost invariably, warmer locales. Here's a sampling of the ornaments I've collected so far:

Waikiki. Purchased at the weirdly great little Borders above a parking garage on Kalakaua Ave., which was at least 50% local books and authors.

Muir Woods, California. It's real!

Boston, MA. Purchased at the information center on the Freedom Trail. I'll bet Paul and Maudie thought I was buying it as a present for a niece or nephew. Haha.

Ulan Ude, Russia. I can't remember exactly where I bought her, but I do know she used to have a little wooden fish on her platter.

Seattle, WA. I bought this on my free morning on the tail end of a business trip, at Pike Place Market. The artist was wearing an Autumn Defense shirt, which I commented on. In the course of chatting I learned that A) her husband was from Racine, and B) she's a friend of John's. Small world.

Melbourne, Australia. Purchased at the Garden Shop at the Melbourne Botanic Gardens.

Talkeetna, Alaska. Purchased at the same shop where Heidi and I bought warm socks.


Halifax, Nova Scotia. Purchased at a shop next to the blown glass workshop, on the harbour.

Dublin, Ireland. Purchased at a shop off Grafton Street where Anya and I also got some nice wool blankets.

Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. A new purchase this summer, and it made me laugh out loud when I unwrapped it a few weeks ago.

New York City. The gift shop at The Met.

Wellington, New Zealand. Purchased at the gift shop in Te Papa. Sigh.

Cavendish, Prince Edward Island. Purchased at Green Gables!

Atlantic City, New Jersey. The ornament that started it all.

Merry Christmas!

Happy ho ho ho to you

What do you get your mom for Christmas? Every year I struggle with this question. I know plenty of things my mother would probably appreciate, but what would be a really great gift? This year, inspiration came in the form of an email from the Riverside Theater in Milwaukee: Harry Connick Jr. would be playing a full band holiday show on December 12th. I've long had a soft spot for Harry, and both of his Christmas albums get tons of play in Mom's car every year. I scored a pair of balcony seats in the presale, and last Friday it was off to Milwaukee for my mother's Christmas concert.

It was great. The concert was heavy on the Christmas songs, but they weren't the whole story. We were also treated to some old standards; songs like "Come Rain or Come Shine," "Yes, Sir, That's My Baby," and "Basin Street Blues." From the familiar Christmas tunes to the extended instrumental solos on jazzier numbers, everything was top notch. Harry has assembled an incredibly talented group of musicians, and he's no slouch himself. Lucien Barbarin, in particular, gave a standout performance - he received a standing ovation from the crowd. I also hadn't expected Harry to be so funny. He told many stories, including a great one about Frank Sinatra on what would have been his ninety-third birthday. There was much witty banter with the crowd, especially those up front. Harry's not afraid to make fun of his fans, and I like that in a performer. (Addressing the husband of a woman who has seen four shows in a row: "You do know you're married to a freakshow, don't you?") And aside from the musical skills, Harry also has got some moves on the dance floor. (Dance floor in this case being the stage.) I'd like to see a Southern white boy dance-off: Harry Connick Jr. vs. Patrick Sansone. Let's make this happen.

Experiencing the concert with my mom was wonderful, but the night's surprises weren't over for me. On the way home I learned that one December in the mid 1960's, Mom and her girlfriends drove down to New Orleans. They stayed in the French Quarter. They swam in a pool on Bourbon Street on New Year's Eve. They went to Preservation Hall. I had no idea. The concert also brought up many memories of my grandpa. I knew Grandpa had taught himself to play the piano and guitar, but Mom told me all about how he and his brother and their friends used to get together and jam. Many nights when she was a little girl, Mom would do her best to fall asleep in her bedroom upstairs while down in the basement she could hear Grandpa on his guitar, Uncle Richie on the harmonica, and their friends on trombone and saxophone, playing and laughing into the wee hours. "He would have loved that show," Mom said. As we were walking into the house, she told me this had been her best Christmas present ever ... right behind Cinnamon Bear, the teddy bear she got as a little girl.

I'll take second place to Cinnamon Bear any day. Mission accomplished.

Here we go (again)

November is in its waning hours. The long Thanksgiving weekend is over. It's only been two weeks since I was sitting on the beach in Honolulu, but looking out at the Wisconsin snow, that seems like ages ago. Time for the year-end schedule to shift into high gear.

I have a work deadline Thursday, and another two weeks later. Next weekend I'm headed to Rochester to see Wilco play a headlining gig in the middle of their tour with Neil Young. That's upstate New York, not Minnesota ... though when it comes to flying in December, both may be equally ill-advised. Days after I get back, it's time for the seventh annual Letters to Santa charity event in Chicago. It will be my sixth year in attendance, and once again I'm planning to stay for the entire 24 hours. Actually, this year things are changing up a bit, and it will be even longer than 24 hours. I'm not sure what we've done to earn this extra test of endurance, but wish me luck. Throw in a couple more concerts - Harry Connick Jr. with my mom in Milwaukee, and Bon Iver with Tamala and Rob in Madison - and we're pretty much up to Christmas. Yipes.

Random thing I've been wondering for years, but was just reminded of when the song came on: is the title of Nels Cline and Thurston Moore's "Blues for Helen Burns," actually a Jane Eyre reference? Lord, I hope it is.