fishing for words

Sean, Chris and I are in Duvall, Washington, for the next few days. What a trip getting here! Chris and I departed home about 5:15 a.m., picking up Sean along the way. It was smooth sailing through most of California, but in Dunsmuir hit the weather I had worried about: snow. The rain had begun to show evidence of some mushy-ness a few miles earlier, but there was no evidence on outside of the impending storm. Slowly, it became obvious that snow had been falling for a while as drifts were piled on the side of the highway. Eventually I slowed to about 40 mph. With thoughts of putting on chains drifting through my head, we finally emerged from the fluffy stuff near Weed. We charge ahead, only to be slowed down near the Siskiyou pass, where angry clouds were spitting snow in our path into Oregon. With concentration and the awareness that at least three cars had slid off the road, I drove carefully and in constant fear of other drivers, including that of a tractor trailer rig, who flew past us in the slush. But we made it into Oregon without incident, and were rewarded with blue skies through much of the Beaver State. The remainder of our drive was relatively uneventful, save for the darkness that quickly descended at this higher latitude as we began to negotiate the sometimes narrow and often winding roads towards Duvall. But we made it, tired and a bit hungry, but happy to have made it.

P.S. We woke up this morning to a winter wonderland…perhaps 2½ to 3 inches of light snow.

In the end, Christmas 2006 seemed to be destined to teach us to appreciate when our little Christmas season goes smoothly…something that I, apparently, have taken for granted for all too many years. It all started with a hectic schedule two weeks before the holiday, as Karen and Adam traveled hundreds of miles – yes, literally hundreds of miles – to various GGBC rehearsals and performances. That, in itself, did start this little snowball from, um, heck. It was the constant exposure to the Petri dish of germs that is called BART. The week before Christmas, both Adam and Karen came down with some sort of cold. Maybe it should be referred to as “The Cold that Stole Christmas.” While Adam recovered relatively rapidly, Karen descended into congestion, a sore throat and various aches and pains. We held on to the hope that she’d recover and only a few of us might head to Christmas Eve dinner. Unfortunately, Karen’s father, our gracious cook and host for Christmas Eve dinner, was admitted to the hospital, where the doctors wanted him to enjoy a turkey dinner and stay through the day after Christmas.

So, rolling with these curveballs (yes, mixing metaphors), Sean and I decided we could head to Christmas mass at 9:00 p.m. instead of trying to stay awake for midnight mass. All was good as mass started with “Joy to the World,” then the opening prayer by the pastor, who introduced his co-celebrant, who then said an opening prayer…in Vietnamese! Sean and I look at each other. But I was there, and by gum, wasn’t going to leave. Thankfully, about half of mass was in English. And it was entertaining as we were visited by “The Christmas Cat,” a feline named Gilbert by the St. Dominic’s School kids, who walked up a side isle, behind the altar, then in front of the alter to sniff at the manger scene.

I guess out travails can’t compare to that of Mary and Joseph. Merry Christmas to all!

Driving to work this morning, tooling along the relatively vacant roads (a bonus of the few days before Christmas), when I began to hear bells. No, not entirely isolated to my cranium…it seems that KCBS sent a reporter out to check out the Golden Gate Boys Choir, of which Adam is a part. (See previous post.) As soon as we find out if there is a podcast of this story, I’ll throw it up here. In the meantime, if you can tune into 740 AM, I’m sure that story will be run a few more times this morning, before the performance at 101 California Street in San Francisco.