Wednesday, December 16, 2020

Dove Tailed Christmas Greetings.

 


I am reminded of the lyrics of an old song that goes, 'If I had a hammer, I'd hammer in the morning.' You see, there's a little blue marble of a planet out in space, in a fairly ordinary galaxy, where something unusual happened: A Jewish carpenter tried to build up our faith and show us the way to Heaven. I expect a lot of people this time of year look up and say, "Lord, please save me from Christmas!"

My move to Pensacola has separated me from my relatives in the Pacific Northwest. In theory, the best Christmas is enjoyed with family, but strangely, no one disappoints us more than family. We can't all have Norman Rockwell worthy Christmas dinners. I'm emotionally ready to spend Christmas in an Airbnb. I'm not the only one in the world who will be alone eating a Subway sandwich on Christmas. It's just one day; I can handle it. There's Skype, email, and cell phones to shorten the distance. 

Christmas should be a time of quiet celebration, not migraines. There's a lot of pressure to shop for gifts and mail them in time for Christmas. I've violate this gift giving timeline every year because I mail gifts whenever the spirit moves me. I mailed Christmas cards to a dozen people this year, so I had better not find a lump of coal in my stocking. As of this writing, Christmas is only a week away. Soon it will arrive and quickly it will be forgotten. Christmas trees probably wish Christmas was abolished. About twenty-seven million live Christmas trees will be harvested this year. Twenty-two million fake trees will be sold. Wouldn't it be great if all the live trees were left to grow? We'd all have a lot more oxygen.

I am flummoxed by the timetable of stores transitioning to the next holiday months before it arrives. Halloween displays were up in Home Depot in August. Christmas displays go up in September. I imagine every holiday blending together. I have found Christmas stores that are open year round. I expect Valentine's Day displays are already being set up nationwide. This is why Jerry Springer in the Seinfeld show, invented Festivus, which afterwards was taken up by the masses and celebrated on December 23rd.



When I was a boy, Christmas mornings meant finding my expected present under a tree festooned with gaudy lights, tinsel, strings of popcorn, and ornaments. At the top of the tree was either a star or an angel figurine. An hour after Christmas morning began, the living room floor looked like a tornado had touched down, festooned with torn packaging, shards of ribbons that held the packages, and name tags that once were held in place with Scotch tape. 

My family's usual Christmas breakfast consisted of eggs, sausage, pancakes, waffles, glasses of orange juice, toast with jam or biscuits, and coffee for mom and dad. Bowls  of overly sugary cereals, adorned with berries, were a part of the bacchanalia. Then it was time to lounge around in pajamas watching Christmas themed cartoons and movies. Mom would order us to brush our teeth, and go outside to play in the snow while she cleaned up the mess. It was a simpler time, but most American families carry on this Christmas morning tradition. Nowadays, it's rare for families to stop and talk about the real meaning of Christmas as a family. 

I suggest there should be a time where everyone stops whatever they are doing, on Christmas Day, to contemplate the meaning of the holiday. The mistletoe reminds us to show a little more love to one another. Now that 2020, a year which will live in infamy, is coming to a close we have a lot to ponder. What will 2021 bring? How long before life returns to normal?

There are 7.8 billion people on Planet Earth; not everyone is a Christian. I imagine the extreme capitalism  of Christmas shopping must seem like temporary insanity to non-Christians. Surely the end goal is not in acquiring a huge treasure trove of presents. From December 10th to December 18th, Jewish families celebrate Hanukkah. It's a festival of light, remembering when a day's supply of lamp oil in the temple in Jerusalem lasted eight days. As a boy I was ignorant of their holiday, and the parish priest never talked about it. 

At the top of the entrance steps of the church my family attended, was a grand nativity scene with large ceramic figurines of Mary, Joseph, the baby Jesus in his wood cradle, the three Wise Men, and a couple of shepherds. There was real hay for the holy family and their friends, and animal figures, to rest on. It was gloriously lit with floodlights. The animals and figures were turned towards the baby Jesus, who had a happy look on his rosy-cheeked face, and his chubby arms extended to bless the gathering. The figures of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus had gold hued halos around their heads. The manger enclosing this scene was made of real wood, about ten feet wide and six feet tall. 

For many years I have reflected on Jesus, the real historical figure. I've read the prophesies in the Old Testament of the bible. Christians say they are proof and Jews say it proves nothing about Jesus. His life has a lot of gaps that are lost to history. As far as anyone knows, he never wrote a book. His Sermon on a Mount could have been a bestseller. And like most historical people, the real Jesus has been embellished to the point that it's rather confusing. Who can say with certainty what Jesus was really like? Was he like Brian, in the 1979 Monty Python film, Life of Brian? Was Jesus a man, like Brian, and simply misunderstood? What would Jesus say about Christmas, and how we celebrate it?

Christmas, the birth of Jesus, celebrated on December 25th, is made up. In ancient times it was a pagan holiday. The evergreen was a Druid thing. There is no Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Jesus wasn't born on December 25th. He could have been born in April. And his real name wasn't Jesus. It was Yeshua, or Yahushua, a form of the name, Joshua, that means 'to deliver; to rescue.' Sounds like Messiah, right? So we got his name wrong, and his birth date, and probably even the way he looked. The Catholic church can be blamed for a lot of the misinformation. I was raised Catholic. They had a lot of reasons to dumb down Christmas for the commoners. Most of the reasons had to do with making money, and making sure their version of the story was the official version. I was brainwashed like everyone else until I was in my late teens, when I began searching for the truth. It's like playing detective at a crime scene that is over 2,000 years old. There's not a lot of reliable evidence to go on.

The story of Christmas makes no sense if it's not true. There are biblical scriptures that describe what the Messiah would be like. But like in the movie, Miracle on 34th Street everyone has to discover the true meaning of Christmas on their own. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vE9M7a4wAZ0 

Like the little girl in the film, Susan, we don't believe in Santa until we see the miracle happen. Most people don't know that the story of Santa Claus was based on a generous monk named St. Nicholas, who was born around 280 A.D., in Patara, near modern-day Turkey. I often see miracles. I am grateful for the miracle that I never had Covid-19 symptoms, and drove thousands of miles, eventually to Pensacola, and never had an accident.

The bottom line of Christmas is Y'shua. Either he was a fraud or he was the promised Messiah. Some would say he never existed, but the Roman historian, Josephus, did make a notation about him, so he was a real Jewish man. As Jesus once said to his followers, "Who do you say I am?"

In filmmaking there's a saying that a movie works because it persuades a rational movie viewer to "suspend their disbelief." The Christmas story asks us to suspend our disbelief, and accept that once upon a time, God took the form of a human being living in a little backwater part of the world, for the purpose of saying, "Hey, you're forgiven for your sins. I want you to believe in me; listen to my words." Many people would say that God has used a lot of enlightened human beings to help us find our way. That is probably true. Have you ever had a person show up to help you in an hour of need? I have no doubts that some of the people we interact with in our lives are agents sent by God to help us. 

The idea behind the 1977 film, Oh God! is that God wants to get to know us, and wants us to believe and quit doubting. In the film, God, (played by George Burns), reveals himself to an ordinary grocery store manager, Jerry, (played by John Denver). It addresses questions and misconceptions people have about God. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVvKuI8oK3c   

Ask most five-year-old children if Santa Claus is real, and they will enthusiastically say, "YES!" Ask them if Jesus was a real person, and they will likely say, "I don't know." If you are seeking the truth, then you already have a good foundation to begin to believe in the important things about Jesus, the reason for the season. God doesn't live in churches, or synagogues, temples, or mosques. That's architecture. Look for God's artwork in snowflakes, rainbows, flowers, and in everything that exists. Whether you call him by his real Hebrew name, (Yeshua, or Yahushua), or the wrong, transliterated form (Latinized) - name of Jesus, isn't important. 

I will plan to stop whatever I'm doing this Christmas and imagine, as John Denver did in that film, that there is still magic in the world, and God, who lives outside of time, can always do whatever it is (he, she, or it) wants to do. There are no obstacles; nothing is impossible for the Creator of everything. 


Friday, December 11, 2020

Welcome to Pensacola!

I've become accustomed to life in an Airbnb since my arrival in Pensacola, Florida, and generally I have no complaints. Who could object to this view of their backyard in December?

I feel lucky to be here in Gulf Breeze, with its proximity to some of the most beautiful beaches I've experienced in my life. I'm hopeful staying in various Airbnb's is not a permanent way of life. How, you may wonder, did I end up in Pensacola? It's a long story. My epiphany occurred after driving the coastlines of California, Oregon, and the far southwest corner of Washington state, to find a house I could afford. The Australian aborigines had a tradition of a young man doing a walkabout to find themselves. That's as close as I've come to being an Australian. I'm not a young man anymore; the mirror reminds me daily. But this was my walkabout. Fifty days camping out on my land, and thirty driving around three states would have been enough for most people. But not me. I turned right around and drove through five or six states to arrive here, and I still have my things in storage in Saint George, Utah. One day I will get my things out of storage in Utah and make the 1,800 mile drive to Pensacola. No sense in thinking about that now; I think I may still be burned out from the last 2,000 miles on the road. My life is up in the air at Airbnb's until I buy a house, or give up and lease an apartment. I'm okay with whatever the future holds.

After having my eyes opened to the reality that lenders were not going to give me a $350,000 loan, regardless of my excellent credit score, unless I landed a very well paying position, I decided to shop elsewhere for a house. Some would call this an insane idea. Maybe so. One of my brothers encouraged me to buy a house in Idaho. Unfortunately, Idaho has no beaches, and fish tacos are looked upon with suspicion. However, in inquiring, I found a lender in Idaho, with affliliate offices in states with beaches. That is a summary of how I started looking in Pensacola, Florida. 

To my surprise, the prices of houses in this area are quite varied. On the West Coast a house listed for $150,000 would have to be a trailer in a trailer court or a condo. Neither were options for me because the HOA fees are very high. But in Pensacola, a $150,000 house is comparable to a $500,000 house in Oregon and Washington. In most of California, south of San Francisco, the $150,000 house would cost close to a million dollars. But buying a house in Pensacola is like falling in and out of love. What happens is you find a house you like, and you begin to think you might be falling in love with it, and just when you are about to "marry" the house, it turns out to have problems. 

Three times I found houses I loved, and I was about to say "I do" when the inspectors found wood rot, a bad roof, a lack of wind mitigation (metal strapping to hold the roof to the structure in the event of a hurricane), and bad wiring, (aluminum instead of copper). Several okay houses were in rather dicey neighborhoods. A lady real estate agent said the reason for the plethora of houses with repair issues is because of Hurricanes Ivan and Sally. Wood frame houses do not fare well in Pensacola. But hurricanes are fickle beasts; they will leave some houses unscathed in their Caribbean samba dance along the coastline. Hurricanes are also spooky. Hurricane Ivan and Hurricane Sally made landfalls in Pensacola on September 16, 2004, and September 16, 2020, exactly sixteen years apart to the day. Based on this, maybe I suppose I would be wise to plan a holiday in Europe on September 16, 2036. 

The trick is lucking out and finding a house that has no repair issues; a house which will have a favorable four point inspection. The viability of a VA Loan depends on a good inspection. They are rare as marigolds on the moon. I found a lovely house, built in 1935, that had blue labradorite-black granite countertops, marble window and door sills, hardwood floors, and terracotta tile. I envisioned growing wildflowers on the large lot. I was in love again. But the roof, and wood rot repair costs ruined the  romance. As of this writing, I've found a quirky former real estate office as a possible home. I have yet to learn why it has a French motif. I jokingly suggested to Norm, my real estate agent, that it could be a creperie. it has a nuance of a cafe in Casablanca. Of course it has a few problems; all the houses I've seen in Pensacola have problems. But let's talk about Pensacola, a city which has been a possession of England, France, Spain, the Confederacy, and Florida. As a result, it has an eclectic charm. 

Access to beautiful beaches abound. I was elated to discover Pensacola Beach, the most southernly beach community south of Pensacola. Somehow, most of the pretty two and three story houses, and twenty-story resort hotels, are still standing intact after two major hurricanes. The white beaches are pristine, the gentle surf warm as tepid bathwater. What's not to love? The sand squeeked beneath my feet. I felt the endorphins being released in my brain. I stopped at Flounders, one of a many quirky beach restaurants, and had a fish taco. Not as good as my fish tacos, but few are.

                                            
No visit to Pensacola Beach is complete without visiting the iconic UFO house on Via de Luna Drive.
UFOs were once a big topic of conversation in Pensacola Beach. Opinions vary as to whether there was a hoax or an extraterrestrial encounter, in November of 1987. The newstory was published by The Gulf Breeze Sentinel, and featured photos of the alleged UFO. Ed Walters, a contractor in Pensacola Beach, claimed to have taken the photos.
    
When Walters moved from the area, he left a styrofoam model of a UFO in his attic. Pensacola News Journal reporter, Craig Myers, investigated Walters' claims a few years later, criticizing the Sentinel's coverage of the story as "uncritical" and "sensationalist." Myers was able to duplicate Walters’s UFO photos using that styrofoam model. Maybe there really was a UFO, maybe not. Welcome to Pensacola, a strange mix of fruits, nuts, history, and hurricanes. A place I've decided to call home.