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Our last Christmas party

You’ll pardon the fuzzy nature of this photo.

That’s my father-in-law and his best friend. “Friends for 60 years!” they said today. They are each the godfather to the other’s kid(s). Bob and Clem’s wives went to nursing school together. Between the two families they had three daughters, and they essentially grew up together. This is about as close to family as you can get without the DNA, which just makes it better, really, because you’re choosing all of those people in your life.

And so it is fitting that this is the last Christmas party of the season. But it was the “Friends for 60 years!” comment that you really like. Especially if you are an in-law, as I am. They all have so many wonderful stories together, two generations and so many decades, and they are all fun to hear.

Then someone goes to the back and pulls out this photograph, because somewhere along the way they discussed it and realized that no one but Bob had ever seen Clem’s upper lip:

That was a photo he’d rescued from his father’s house, one of those thousands of items salvaged from the millions and millions of memories lost because of Hurricane Sandy. We heard Sandy stories, we had homemade lasagna that you wouldn’t believe. We unwrapped presents. We watched the two little kids play. They are the only two kids I’ve met my entire laugh that don’t want to play with me.

That’s OK. I played with their trains, invented a game (that they loved) and made a video:

And I had Sammi, the love dog:

Can’t beat that for late Christmas fun.

Now bring on the spring.

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28
Dec 12

Look down, look down

Seen alone or with a friend, knowing the story or completely new to it, as a moviegoer or — as I did — with Broadway purists, Les Mis is good.

Russell Crowe, as Javert, is the weakest part of the performance. And he was reasonably acceptable.

The best part was this: Colm Wilkinson, the original Jean Valjean, plays the Bishop of Digne. It is a great part, and so obvious and well done, and everything is in good hands throughout.

This is pretty incredible, too:

Typically, the soundtrack for a movie musical is recorded several months in advance and the actors mime to playback during filming. However, on this film, every single song was recorded live on set to capture the spontaneity of the performances.

Saw that this evening. Beforehand I got a shave. The professional kind. The someone-else-has-sharp-implements-aimed-at-your-face kind.

This was a unique Christmas gift my father-in-law and I received. He made the appointment, we went down to the salon this morning and saw this sign:

I knew about this association of barbers and blood letting, but this was a good time to be reminded. Especially so soon after my fall haircut experience where my local barber almost took off my ear. It clearly got to him. He got me out of his chair quickly, without finishing the haircut, which was why I had a great feathered look for a few days as my hair got to a certain length.

Alas, there would be no hair cutting today, just face shaving. And this is how they do it, as my father-in-law went first, I could watch with detached cool from the sofa in front of SportsCenter.

Getting a professional shave (my first) as a Christmas gift. The door says “The experience brings you back.” So will “No nicked veins.” Heh.

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

The first step in this pro shave (I’m next) is to recline 180 degrees, cover and place under harsh light. The client looks mostly dead.

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

There is skin moisturizing, a towel over the eyes and then the lather. Don’t Fear the Reaper is playing in the salon. I’m not kidding.

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

There seems to be some moving of the nose as the razor comes near. That’s promising.

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

Now comes more lather. Blue Oyster Cult is off the air, replaced by Phil Collins who can’t feel a thing from his head down to his toes.

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

Now the post-shave balm. The towel over the eyes never came off, which I believe is the international signal for “GET ME OUTTA HERE.”

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

Now the client is mummified under a stack of warm towels. A man’s face is extremely sensitive, despite all those westerns you’ve seen …

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

I think this part is the face massage. I’m guessing that by now you are either asleep or wondering why you don’t do this everyday.

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

And now the face gets powdered. Didn’t see that coming.

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

And the finished product … that is one good looking face. Which means I’m next.

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

My father-in-law reports: “That was amazing … I’ll definitely do that again.”

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

My shave is complete. Didn’t get nicked, better than I can say of my own efforts. If you haven’t had a full service shave you should.

— kennysmith (@kennysmith) December 28, 2012

She only missed one spot. Also better than I do.

Have you had a professional shave? The next time you have a big event coming up you should consider it.

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26
Dec 12

Hockey night in America

We had a white Christmas. There is video and everything!

We went with the in-laws for pizza tonight. Pepe’s is the best I’ve ever had, and it never disappoints:

Then we saw hockey. They took a perfectly good facility, with a leaky roof, and put water on the floor. Then they utter several Harry Potter incantations and the stuff turns into ice with lots of colorful markings beneath the surface.

And then these guys slide around, shuffling back and forth a hard rubber disk with sticks that on occasion break. Occasionally they would pummel each other into the plexiglass that surrounded the rink. One fight was cheered on by the many in attendance.

David Ullstrom, of Sweden, made the hometown proud with three assists. Switzerland’s Nino Niederreiter, on the left, poured in two goals:

Cameron Talbot weathered 24 shots. It was the four that got by him that were of the greatest concern:

On the other end Kevin Poulin controlled the crease, allowing two goals early in the third period, but the visiting Whale rally ended there:

The Sound Tigers added on an empty net goal by Ullstrom with one second left in the game to skate to a 5-2 victory.

And I’m beginning to shake the cold I’ve had since Sunday. So there’s that, too.

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16
Dec 12

Catching up

Extra pictures from the week, which this time means more shots from our trip.

Don’t go away too early! There is a video at the bottom of the post.

Part of the organ at the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. We did not get to hear it play:

A few of our favorite entries into the gingerbread village. Gnome Sweet Gnome:

Note the detail in the cutaway mug. Amazing:

One of those rare moments when a photo of signage is acceptable:

Take a good hard look at my gingerbread boat:

This one was my favorite. Definitely the kind of gingerbread house I’d move into:

I got photo-bombed at the fountain in Forsyth Park:

Public squirrels will let you walk right up to them for that perfect shot:

An empty park bench in Forsyth:

This guy was taking pictures. We took pictures of the picture-taking session:

The Yankee at our tree in Forsyth Park:

If I was not so heavily invested in my gingerbread boat I’d consider something like this:

And, finally, two minutes on the river. This is the view sitting on the Juliette Gordon Low, one of the three members of the Savannah Belles Ferry fleet. We were waiting to go across to the other side when the Mol Premium slides through:

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14
Dec 12

Our last day, a travel day, a tragic day

If you have never been to Savannah — or if you’re only now planning a trip because you’ve read about it in this space or if you’ve never been to this particular place — do yourself a favor and go to lunch at Mrs. Wilkes. Go early in your trip, because you will want to go back.

Don’t even worry about Paula Deen’s place. This is better and you’re welcome.

Under our tree, where we always spend our last afternoon before leaving town. We spent a day under this tree on our first trip here in 2005. We got engaged under this tree a few years later. This is the view I had while working up the nerve:

A guy walked by, one of the panhandling welcome committee members, and offered to take our picture:

The Yankee composes a terrific photograph similar to the view I shared above:

On River Street, where few tourists are to be found even on this beautiful Friday, there was a busker:

Who doesn’t love a good busker? This guy sang a capella all weekend. Just him, his hands, his money bucket and a bottle of water. You could hear him a block away. Sounded great, too.

And back home we drove. We’d been reading all day about all of the terrible senselessness that had taken place in Newtown, just 20 miles from where The Yankee grew up.

Meanwhile, police found the bodies of a woman and two kids in a small apartment just a few miles from my campus. So there I am, middle of the night, driving through the countryside and calling media relations people, editors, police departments and the campus safety office, trying to make sure that this had no Samford ties. Seems it did not.

Covering that during the semester break would be a challenge. I’m sure our students would have done a respectful job. Wish you saw more of that from Connecticut out of cable television today. There’s been far too much misinformation and misidentification (problems originating with overwhelmed law enforcement agencies) alongside conjecture and quacks that have been shuffled in front of the cameras (strictly the media’s fault). But all of that belongs in a different rant.

As of this writing they are up to 26 fatalities there. It is hard to all of this, so sweeping and terrible in its scope and consequence. There’s precious little peace and even less understanding, I’m sure.

I think of the voids, the big hole in the community that stands out for years in a wide tragedy. I think of all of the little empty places found in all of those families when someone is so unexpectedly pulled away. That lasts for generations.

Found this on one of our local merchant’s Facebook page:

If you would like to mail sympathy cards or letters of support to the school, the address is:

Sandy Hook Elementary School
12 Dickenson Drive
Sandy Hook, CT 06482

Please copy/paste/share widely. Sending a card is something small but it’s the least we can do!

Here’s their website.