Santa Claus on a golf cart in Bermuda shorts! Blown up lawn decorations of Candy Canes with palm trees! A Polar Bear on a sled next to an alligator with a Christmas cap on its head!
Yes. It was Christmas in Florida. Now I've lived on the West Coast, for ten years to be exact, and celebrated a number of holidays in the Bay Area. And I'll be the first to admit, it was mighty tough getting used to snow-less surroundings during the holidays. Even harder still was adjusting my mindset to Christmas decorations set up among Eucalyptus and Redwood trees.
But Santa Claus cruising around on a golf cart? Now that was just too out-of-synch! I felt like I had landed in "The Twilight Zone."
Nevertheless, those were the sights I saw when I traveled down to the Gulf Coast to spend the past holiday season with "M". I knew that the visuals might be challenging for "M" as well, mostly because of her short-term memory loss. It was growing increasingly more challenging for her to get oriented to time and place, especially following her recent move from the upper Northeast to Florida.
Then again, the humming helped. Considerably. Since we had already established a regular routine of humming holiday carols up in The Woods in August, it was a very smooth transition to hum along with them on a local radio station that played such tunes 24-7. Most areas have such stations. They sometimes start serving up holiday fare on Thanksgiving Day with an endless feed running straight through to Christmas. Then suddenly, the day after Christmas, the warmth of the season suddenly cools as all the stations go back to their "regular programming" which, at least in this heart and soul, doesn't carry quite the same messages of peace and love.
But that didn't matter much now. The important thing was that I was going to be spending the holiday season with possibly the world's best holiday hummer, the magnificent "M"! And we sure did have a lot of practice up in the Woods throughout the previous August! Our vocal chords where tuned and ready to accompany Bing, Nat, Frankie, Judy... ALL of the holiday favorites. Over and over and over again.
Prior to our arrival in Florida, most of our holiday humming fit in perfectly with the chorus of "Deck the Halls (with Boughs of Holly)". "M" and I had fa-la-la-la-la'd many days away in a multitude of settings thus far in our friendship. I figured this would make the acknowledgement of what time of year it was fairly simple for "M", despite her relocation to a warm, sunny climate.
We didn't have to wait very long to test out my hunch. On one of our first days together in the new surroundings, I accompanied "M" for a walk to the park across the street. We found a new favorite spot right away - a solidly built and very sturdy wooden bench with metal armrests. Very easy for "M" to get in and out of without too much assistance. It was under a grove of trees, thereby shaded from the sun, which, in spite of it being December, could feel quite warm at times. "M" didn't like sitting directly in the sun, nor did I, but because of her age and penchant to chill easily, I made sure we brought along an adequate supply of warm jackets and throws for our new adventure.
Within minutes of discovering our new bench, "M" and I were treated to an unexpected parade of dog walkers. Well... it wasn't really a parade in the traditional sense of the word. But it certainly was a steady flow of people proudly displaying their canine family members to anyone who was around. "M" is an animal lover, as I've already shared. In addition to the two kitties that her daughter has, she is also regularly in the presence of her son's three dogs. As there were no animals in her new home, I knew that "M" sorely missed her furry, four-legged companions, and was thrilled to discover the park as a meeting ground for fellow pet lovers.
We started making new friends right away, and I even began writing down the names of the owners, (many of whom were also wintering in the warm south from the frigid northeast), and the pooches associated with them, as so many of the doggies were the itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny ones with the LOUDEST barks on the planet! All of them started to look alike to me! Except for the occasional large dog, that is. Those were very memorable among this sea of miniatures.
About half an hour into our first visit to the park, "M" and I were enjoying a gentle breeze in our new favorite spot. The temperature was just right. Not too hot. Not too cold. In fact, everything seemed just right. Perfect, in fact. Tropical surroundings with fabulous flowers. Colorful birds, from wild green parrots to snowy white ibises, that soared over our heads majestically. "M" loved watching the birds, recollecting about her own days in the sky.
Just perfect. Until a different flock began to gather in the playground across from our spot. A flock of very excited children accompanied by very harried-looking parents. They were all meeting by the lone covered picnic pavilion that stood in the park, protecting it from the sometimes overbearing rays of the beautiful, but bright, sunshine.
"Something's going on over there," I pointed out the gathering of families to "M". Our spot was near the playground, so it wasn't unusual to see children swinging and sliding onto the weather-treated rubber mats that covered the hot sand. "M" always enjoyed watching children play, probably because she had the heart and soul of a wide-eyed, carefree child who viewed the world with wonder rather than cynicism or scorn. It was a wonderful quality, and I tried to emulate it as often as I could.
"M" gazed over at the pavilion, and smiled at the sight. Then, without warning, what to our wondering eyes should appear but... A brightly decorated golf cart aglow with gaudy Christmas lights and blaring holiday tunes from its boom-box style speakers! Behind the wheel was a white haired and fully bearded Santa Claus wearing a tropical shirt and Bermuda shorts. "HO, HO, HO!" he yelled to the children, who all ran up to the cart with expectation. Apparently, this was an annual tradition in this particular location. On a particular Sunday prior to Christmas, Santa would arrive on his "sleigh" loaded with lots of sugar-laden candy that he tossed to the children, (probably much to the dismay of their already over-wrought parents!). Hands full of goodies, the children all listened as Santa counted out the number of days until Christmas Day, warning that they should all be extra good little boys and girls so that he could deliver their gifts instead of a stocking full of coal.
I don't know about "M", but I'll have to admit that I was astounded by the site. This is just NOT the way December unfolded in parts of the country that were desperately trying to prepare for another predicted season of relentless sleet and snow. In fact, I recall now that my jaw was hanging open in a combination of shock and awe. What the heck was going on down here? "This isn't how Christmas is done," I told myself.
As the weeks went on after that initial afternoon in the park, I learned a valuable lesson. Christmas is what you make of it, wherever it is. It's not about snow and sleigh rides. Or pot-bellied Santa Claus's in red suits. Or even a parade (yes! a real parade!) of holiday themed sailboats competing for the prize of best decorated ("M" and I very much enjoyed this particular event from the comfort of her living room!).
The spirit of the holiday season is what matters most, and as it drew closer and closer to Christmas Day, this realization became clearer and clearer, largely thanks to my happily humming companion. "M" absolutely relished all of the holiday cheer, especially the music that is associated with this time of year. We would listen for hours on end, calmly gazing out the triple-wide back sliding door at a peaceful inlet inhabited by sea-birds of all sorts.
And even though every tune, ranging from the traditional "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" to a current country-pop styled "Frosty the Snowman," was still hummed with the "fa-la-la-la-la" lyric, "M" followed those melodies to the note! She knew all of the classics, and took great joy in hearing each and every one of them, dozens of times over. And even when it came to the more modern rock-pop classics, "M" enjoyed them all equally. Happily. Peacefully. With the true spirit of the season.
On Christmas Eve, I decided to take "M" to the closest church, a few blocks away in a neighborhood known as Pass-a-Grille. The church, very Spanish-styled in appearance, was packed, but a special place with two chairs was set up by some very gracious and welcoming parishioners for my ninety-year-old companion and myself. It was a candlelight service, so neither "M" nor myself (it's amazing how quickly the need for reading glasses arises after a "certain age") could read the programs. But we could hear. And that we did. With joy and gratitude in our hearts. The choir was spectacular, as were the song arrangements, and I was moved to tears several times by the sheer magic in the room. When I glanced over at "M", who looked like a true angel in the candlelight, I could see the same experience happening to her, too. What a blessing to be able to share such an event with her!
After we returned home from the service, we said goodnight to our crooked little thrift store Christmas tree, which "M" had watched me trim with a delight that was shared by both of us the evening before. My Dollar Store decorations, including two small stockings filled with various trinkets, red bows and candy canes. The big package from "M"s daughter and family that was filled with wonderfully wrapped (not-to-be-opened-until-Christmas-Morning) gifts. And the Piper Cub that was waiting to be placed on the white shelf after "M" retired for the evening.
My heart was touched in a truly special way that night. You see, one of my favorite holiday songs of all time is "Happy Christmas/War is Over" by John Lennon and Yoko Ono. He has always been an idol of mine because of the ultimate message of peace and love that comprises his incredible body of work. A life cut far too short by another filled with hatred and rage.
"M" and I had heard the song numerous times over the previous three and a half weeks, not only the original version, but also a number of different arrangements. The simple melody and universal lyrics send the same message no matter how they are presented. Peace and love are attainable by all of mankind, regardless of appearance, age, social status, religious beliefs. It is even attainable by snobs! I'm not sure if "M" knew who John Lennon was when I told her that he had been a member of the Beatles. Since they weren't producing any music from their cradles during WW II, I doubt she realized I was speaking about anything other than a common house bug.
Nevertheless, I heard the most amazing thing after I tucked "M" into bed that night. From her room, instead of humming one of the more familiar and favored "fa-la-la-la-la" tunes from her repertoire (French ditties, show tunes, and traditional holiday fare, which currently included a very sweet version of "Silent Night" at bedtime), I heard "M" distinctly humming (YES! Actual humming!) the melody of "Happy Christmas/War is Over." Something about the song had resonated in her mind, and I could not have been more heart-warmed and grateful. Two of my favorite people, John Lennon and "M", were united on Christmas Eve. If they could find the true meaning of Christmas, then why couldn't everyone?
The spirit of peace, love and joy were so strong that night, and I will never forget the magic I felt. Even in the presence of palm trees, warm breezes, and Golf Cart Santa.
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