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Part of Dale’s family lives in the town of Natchitoches, Louisiana. Every year the town has a Christmas festival with a parade, fireworks, and lighted displays along the riverbank. I have never been there for the parade and the festival, but each time I have seen the lights, I have loved them.

The displays are reflected in the water and the pulsing, colorful bridge lights are timed to music. There is a tunnel of lights that flash in patterns which make you dizzy. There are the normal holiday lights of snowmen, skaters, trains, candles, nutcrackers, and Santa with sleigh. There are the Louisiana unique lights of magnolia, crayfish, and alligators.

My favorite lighted scene, however, is the depiction of the stable with star overhead, Mary and Joseph, babe in the manger, shepherd nearby, and kings making their approach. There are two lighted signs in this scene. One says Silent Night and the other says For God So Loved The World.

Nativity Christmas Lights

Every time I see it, I take heart that in this small southern town a Christmas display still depicts the birth of Christ and tells you quite clearly why God sent His Son.

On our way to Louisiana, we stopped to see the Gulf of Mexico at Dauphin Island, Alabama. I was “missing the beach.” I occasionally find myself in a state of longing for sand, waves, shells, and the breeze off the ocean. Years ago, my Hawaiian friend, standing on the coast after a year of being landlocked, described it best to me.  “I can breath again,” she said.

We drove the length of the island admiring the brightly painted houses on sticks. Large piles of blown sand and puddles of ocean water covered the two lane road. Dale maneuvered the van slowly forward until we arrived at the end and the undeveloped beach. The parking lot was under a significant amount of sand, so the coke machine in the distance looked a bit out of place. If a hurricane came through there, I don’t know how any of those houses would withstand it. Such beauty, but so perilously lived.

The beach was fabulous. Undeveloped white sand, lots of shells to find, and calm waves. Gabe and Zeke were soon soaked through. I had them roll up their pants at the start, but they figured when near the water, it’s best to jump in.

We had the red bucket with us, and it was soon so heavy from shell collecting, it had to be left behind while we explored further. There were a few other families and their dogs on the beach and one guy fishing.

When we had finished looking on the other side of the island, Dale and the kids raced back. As usual, Josiah heard “race back” and missed “to the bucket.” Josiah raced directly to the opposite beach. Everyone else raced to the bucket. Dale finally beat Josiah in a race. He is certain he can beat him again. He just needs Josiah to run the wrong way.

We just returned from our visit with Dale’s family down south. When departing any location, Dale and I are used to saying “Manry Clan – Let’s go.” Finding ourselves around others who could also answer to that, Dale was finding it difficult to figure out what to say. His brother solved the problem by declaring, “All Southern Manrys, over here.” Not wanting to accept being termed a Northerner or a Yankee, Dale insisted on saying “All Virginia Manrys – Let’s go.” To be “The Northern Manrys” was too much for him to accept.

While in Baton Rouge, we visited the Rural Life Museum with Uncle Dwayne. The area is set up as an old plantation with church, jail, post office, and commissary buildings. It also has a sugar cane mill where we watched the farmer squeeze the juice out of the cane and boil it down. Zeke, although fond of the jail, liked the commissary the best. He set himself up behind the cash register and started taking orders.

Zeke is now five and a half and believes silence at any time is unnecessary. His mouth starts moving and won’t stop. “Sir, how may I help you? May I take your order? What would you like?” he queried. His father, thinking he could shut him up, responded, “I would like a boy who obeys his mom and dad.” “That’ll be one thousand dollars,” Zeke responded.

Zeke mans the cash register

I greatly admire all organized Christmas participants. They mail their cards on time, bake their cookies, make their candy, buy their gifts, mail packages early, wrap presents, decorate the house, and light the tree. My sister falls into this category of Christmas success and my father praises her peanut brittle.

I do not fall into this category. I do what must be done immediately before it must be done staying up late to accomplish the task. My mom called me at 9pm last night and discovered me baking cookies for the church Christmas Eve cookie exchange. The exchange was originally planned for Saturday, but was snowed out. I had baked peanut butter hershey kiss cookies originally, but they did not survive until Christmas Eve.

I have a general idea as to what I need to do and will suddenly focus on a task at random and it will become my priority for the moment. I do not give Dale much warning and will announce, “I think we should get the tree today and you can put lights on it tomorrow…then you and Gabe can hang the lights on the house.” Other times, I will get stuck on what gift to give to one of the children and illicit Dale’s help. These are moments Dale tries to avoid, but occasionally he cannot escape the endless search for another option which ends in no right answer.

I cannot do my shopping all at once. I have a friend who does all her Christmas shopping on one day. She shops from 8am to 10pm. I could never shop that long. Abby and my mom could, but not me. I usually purchase gifts in the order of when they have to be given: family gifts to be mailed, friends, children, and finally Dale. (Dale is last place, but don’t tell him)

On Tuesday, I had my final list and headed to the shops. The large amount of snow remaining has made parking lots random spot chaos. At the MCX (military department store), they had cleared the parking lot willy nilly. Some aisles could be entered and exited only one way, some aisles  and spaces were filled with snow, and everyone and their brother was driving about. It was madness.

I had a list and it did not include entering the MCX, (I was supposed to be going to the commissary next to it.) but I had a sudden compulsion to join the large crowd headed to the MCX and was funneled in by them. I wandered about consumed by the Holly Jolly.

Eventually, I escaped the MCX with “great gifts I didn’t know I needed”, bought the food I actually needed, and dropped everything at home. I now had three more stores to go. At the first store, I did well sticking to the list. On my way to the second store, Dale called and said, “Zeke needs water proof mittens.” “OK,” I thought, “I’ll just run into this other store not on my list.” From past experience, I should have realized I was at the brink.

There is always an item that is unattainable. Each year it changes and when I begin to look for it, I cannot stop trying to find it. I waste more time looking for it than it is worth. I will search and search throughout a store, looking everywhere and will slowly enter the “Holly Jolly Haze.” All focused thoughts disappear, nothing on the list can be found, and I wander at random in a slow distracted ineffective manner.

It is near impossible to escape the Holly Jolly Haze.  Shopping becomes painful and if someone asks if they can help me find something, I can no longer give them a cohesive answer. Truly, it is best to go home, sleep, and try again another day, but even this simple decision escapes me.

Eventually, I stumbled home fortified by a hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. It didn’t snap me out of the Holly Jolly Haze, but it sure tasted good.

All who live with an absent minded professor understand the utter shock you feel when they display a complete lack of common sense.

This morning, I had no water bottle or juice box for Josiah’s lunch. I had thrown out the refillable bottles in a fit of “plastics are killing us.” Years ago I had gone through a “teflon is killing us” fit and threw out all my pans. Dale never knows what I may toss out when overcome by a sudden fear of toxicity.

Not wanting Josiah to die of thirst, I rashly decided to give him a can of soda. I gave him the following instructions:

1. Do not swing your lunchpail around.

2. Tap the top of the can before you open it.

3. Open the can away from yourself.

In a lack of foresight, I forgot the following instruction:

4. Do not place half finished can of soda back in lunch bag, in locker, on top of borrowed book.