AFTERWORD:
Amelia, You know I love to write books for you… So this one isn’t done yet. I think I’ll ask your aunt Michelle, and your uncles Lawrence and Christopher… and Lita and Papa Larry… to share some of their memories of our Family Thanksgivings…. And add details to the story I’ve written… I’ll collect them, and next year… Maybe I’ll illustrate it and print a book. What do you think? Good idea?
I’m so thankful to be your Dad. You are always loved.
Happy Thanksgiving!
PART FIVE:
Christmas is all around!
Christmas never went away. It is all around and hard not to notice. Commercials start for “the perfect gift” right after Halloween.
But somehow, Thanksgiving has remained uncommercialized -- With all of the media focus on Christmas, people still, really do take a day to focus on serving others and appreciating family…. And God. Even Christmas takes a break and waits until the day after Thanksgiving to suck people back into greed and selfishness. It doesn't wait long though…. I mean, if you ever want to see what's wrong with Christmas, you only need to think about "Black Friday!"
I mean seriously!... It’s called "Black Friday!" Black magic… the black arts… black humor… black flags…. blackmail… The very name conjures images of something sinister or evil. Actually, I guess it’s a good name for Christmas’s most aggressive, selfish, greedy day of shopping.
Now Amelia, You know how much I love the magic of Christmas. I hope you have many wonderful memories of our Christmas times. But the ugliness of Christmas is so strong, it almost overpowers the good. People get so selfish, It takes such a great effort to keep Christmas about family, fun, and children. I tell the stories of Santa, and I even tell the story about the birth of Jesus… and how it’s not really his birthday… Our Christmas has always been about Magic…. It takes a lot of effort to avoid the greed and selfishness of Christmas.
Thanksgiving just isn't like that. After a few years of our family Thanksgiving, I realized how nice it was that our family gift giving holiday was over and finished before the crushing rush of Christmas holiday shopping.
For many, many years, it seemed like my father was angry at Christmas, and wanted nothing at all to do with it. For him, the Hypocrisy was unforgivable. But eventually his anger cooled. Though he never brought Christmas back into our home, he relaxed enough to enjoy visiting other family and friends at Christmas. We all love the Holiday songs-- even Papa Larry. One year, My Dad volunteered to paint several beautiful paintings of Christmas windows for a Holiday walk exhibit. It was kind of like one of those Halloween Haunted houses, only you walked through a maze of Christmas scenes, and Dad’s paintings were like looking in windows of different homes at Christmas time. They were the best part of the exhibit. So, even though your Papa Larry still likes to say “bah Humbug!” And will very happily educate you and me and EVERYONE about the “truth about Christmas”...
I think he’s made peace with it. It isn’t hypocritical to celebrate with other people, their family, and their cultural traditions. In Japan, we celebrated Japanese holidays with our Japanese friends. We have celebrated with Friends from India, and China, and Russia, and Finland, and Italy…. And Mexico… And here in America, Christmas has many many super fun traditions…. And great holiday Movies!
What my Dad learned, and what I learned from my Dad, is how not to trust Hypocrites, but also… Not to fear them. Truth is for those who want to find it. Wisdom is the result of a Journey.
The journey that Larry had to go through was frightening. He had always believed that he wasn’t very smart, and then he found himself having to “question” and challenge “Experts”, people in authority, people he was told to trust. And EVERYONE told him not to question Authority. But my Dad trusted God. And when he found the Authorities contradicting what God said, and realized that he had to choose who to trust and who to follow… He chose God. He was uncertain of what would happen…. But he knew that God (and what he found in the Bible) would never deceive or betray his trust. The Answers would come…. Sometimes it took a long time, but without fail, eventually the answers came. And from the fear, loneliness, and uncertainty, came an answer filled with peace, understanding, and love.
And what about those Hypocrites all over the world?.. How do we know who we can trust and who we can’t?
Well… what I learned from my Dad’s story,.. And from my own… is that there is a way to tell who is honest and who is not. You might say… We’ve “cracked the code!” As Dads, we hope to teach our children what we learn, in hopes that we will help them succeed and have a better life than our own. It’s “Dad Wisdom….”
And every good Holiday story should have a moral lesson or some words of wisdom… So here it goes…
Amelia, Honest people LOVE to answer questions about what they know and what they believe. So, always ask questions. And carefully observe the way the person you ask responds. It goes like this… People tell you what they want you to think, believe, and do. So ask them why they think they are correct? Why is that the best way? Why do they believe it’s true?
If they are honest in what they are telling you-- (even if they might be wrong…) they will want to answer all of your questions… in great detail. But if someone gets angry when you ask them a question-- and instead of answering, calls you names, like “racist” or “denier”-- that's probably a dishonest person and you probably shouldn't trust them. Honest people are eager to answer questions, because they recognize that understanding always makes things better. An “honest” person wants you to understand. A “dishonest” person wants you to believe what they say because of who they are…. Period! Don’t ask Questions!!
An honest person wants to answer every question, and then hopes you'll have new questions tomorrow…. That's a person you can trust.
When Larry asked those questions to the priests and preachers, because they couldn’t give him an honest answer, they got angry with him-- tried to make him think he was wrong to doubt them… If you watch, you’ll see the same thing from politicians on the news, and even your teachers, sometimes… and friends… sometimes….
Sometimes it seems you can’t trust anyone!
But trust is so important. So try this!! This works!!!
By asking questions-- and listening to the answers… and evaluating how people answer-- Or don’t-- you can tell who can be trusted and who should not be trusted. Good people want to tell you everything. Good things want to be found.
Okay… enough “Dad wisdom!…”
My dearest Amelia… I hope this story, and some of our family history, inspires you to ask questions. Take time to Listen to the stories of your family history. Understanding who your family is, will help you know who you are. Think about the roots of a tree… without them, a tree has no strength. It will fall over if the wind blows, or someone pushes it. A tree is only as strong as its roots are deep… But to learn about the tree's roots… you have to dig a little.
“Raindrops on Roses…. And whiskers on Kittens…
Bright Copper Kettles… and warm woolen mittens…
Brown Paper packages, tied up with strings…
These are a few of my favorite things.”
…and telling you stories… and singing you songs… and movies, and adventures, and karaoke parties…
….and being your Dad.
These are my most favorite things.
PART FOUR:
Traditions
Over the years, our Family traditions for Thanksgiving continued to grow. Eventually the stuffed Cornucopia wore out and was replaced by a smaller wicker one with real fruit and veggies, but Mom kept collecting turkey decorations. The “strings” on the brown paper packages got pretty elaborate when we realized that ribbons are technically “strings” and there are vast options for beautiful ribbons and bows. One year, when my sister was 13, she came into the living room where we had all gathered bright and early to open our presents, wearing her pajamas, and a stocking cap. She handed stocking caps out to everyone to put on, and announced that our “new tradition” would be to wear stocking caps on Thanksgiving morning while we opened presents… We did it that year, but thank heavens that “tradition” didn’t stick. I hate stocking caps.
One tradition that developed, is one that I really like. I imagine it came about when Mom and Dad were short on money one year, because a new tradition of giving gifts made by hand was suggested. We all set about making gifts for one another by hand, and that became part of our tradition. I remember one of my favorite gifts were the stuffed Football pillows that Mom made out of brown corduroy for all three boys. They were the best Pillow fighting pillows ever invented! We got into lots of trouble with those! From then on, our gifts were either something we had made for someone by hand, or something that could be used to make something by hand, for example, some paints, and a canvas, or a journal to write a story in, or a sewing machine, or tools. I try to keep those rules in my Thanksgiving gifts. I love the connection to creativity and developing personal talents. Giving gifts always inspires me to create something. Come to think of it… I’m doing that now.
And we always invited family and friends to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a feast meant to be shared. When we lived in Okinawa, there were a lot of young military men and women, far away from their families. My mother and father didn’t want anyone to be alone on Thanksgiving. We opened our home and shared our feast with those young service men and women, and some of our Japanese Friends, and in my memory, somehow we managed to fit 50 people in our living room and everyone got “stuffed.” We Played games and told stories, and sang old 50’s rock and roll songs. No one in our home ever felt lonely or “left out.”
PART THREE:
Now What?
I try to imagine what it must have been like for my Dad, knowing he was going to break everyone in his family’s heart. He was going to have to take Santa magic away from his wife and children, just a couple months before “the most wonderful time of the year,” as the song says…. As a Dad, myself, I know that breaking your children’s hearts is the hardest thing to have to do. But sometimes, we must. I imagine my Dad spending a lot of sleepless nights trying to find a way to make it better… He did.
Larry thought about all the things he loved most about Christmas. Surely there was nothing wrong about spending time with family… telling stories… singing songs… pies and cookies… decorations… and of course, giving and receiving presents. “If only those good things didn’t have to happen on Christmas…” he thought. “Wait! -- What about Thanksgiving!” A wonderful idea came to Larry. Thanksgiving was perfect! Thanksgiving was already about spending time with family. And about being grateful, and thankful to God for our blessings… for our abundance…. It was a harvest festival. A time of plenty. A great time to show our family members appreciation too… And give them PRESENTS!
Larry began to get excited with his new Holiday… He talked it over with his wife, my mom… Your Lita. I wasn’t there, but knowing my mother, I’m sure it was quite a dramatic conversation. Sorrow, sadness, “crying,” anger, resistance, some self blaming,.. and then… understanding… acceptance,.. And then… Excitement! Larry’s wife, my mother… Your Lita… trusted my father. She took the time to understand, and always supported my father in what needed to be done. She joined him in developing a new version of Thanksgiving for our family that would bring the joys of Christmas out of the “wrong” holiday and make a new Holiday for their children…
And then they told us.
That conversation, I kind of remember. I was six. My sister was eight. My two younger brothers were too young to care. But I remember being a kid who did not like finding out that Santa Clause was not going to visit anymore. It didn’t seem fair. What about…. Well… Everything!!!
But we had good parents, who loved us everyday. Santa Clause was important, but Santa Clause was not more important than our parents. And very soon we realized that what we “lost” that day, wasn’t really that important. Or even that hard to replace… The closeness with our family, the delights of decorating, the thrills of opening presents never left our home. It only got better!
Here’s how I remember that first Thanksgiving… Once your Lita gets into an idea-- She becomes the “life of the Party!” Mom immediately got started using her doll making skills to sew together a stuffed Cornucopia, full of stuffed fruits and veggies-- big and brightly colored. It decorated a round table in our living room and pillow-soft stuffed vegetables spilled out all over the floor. They were perfect for throwing at each other and playing with… This would be where we would place our gifts and presents to be opened on Thanksgiving morning before our thanksgiving feast. Mom also began purchasing and collecting every silly Turkey doll, figurine, cookie jar, and decoration she could find. The home got decorated in colorful fallen fall leaves, some happy scarecrows… and bowls of nuts to be cracked and eaten. And we kids started to get excited.
That’s when Larry discovered a small problem with his plan… Wrapping paper! At that time of year, the only wrapping paper he could find was Christmas Paper!! And some Birthday Paper…. But let’s face it… No one was printing up Thanksgiving day paper. What to do?…
Now, your Papa Larry was a Marine all of my childhood. And of course, if you ask him, “Once a Marine… Always a Marine.” And most people think that means a rough, tough, fighting man-- into guns and war, and killing things… “Ooo-RAH!!” But… that’s not really your Papa Larry at all. Your Grandfather loved to draw and paint pictures, study his bible, and… Musicals! Yup, your grand-dad, the Marine, loved to watch musical movies… and sing along.
For some reason, I’ve never really figured out, the motion picture of “The Sound of Music” always seemed to play on T.V. right around Thanksgiving time. It was one of Papa Larry’s favorites, and we never missed it. Larry must have been puzzling over the wrapping paper dilemma when the song “Raindrops on Roses” came on. As you well know-- there’s the line “brown paper packages, tied up with strings-- these are a few of my favorite things-”
“That’s it!” my dad must have thought-- “problem solved!”
And an important element of our Thanksgiving tradition was born… We would wrap our presents in “Brown paper, tied up with strings” It really was perfect. The line from the song expresses perfectly the excitement of a package with something unknown inside. It's the way things used to arrive in the mail. And the brown color works perfect with fall colors-- very Thanksgiving-y… And “not for nuthin…” my dad always was kind of “cheap…” and Brown packing paper is not very expensive at all-- Bonus! In fact, back then brown paper shopping bags were free!
Thanksgiving morning we kids woke to find a pile of “brown paper packages” spilling out from the cornucopia all over the floor. Somehow, overnight the number of packages had… “magically” increased from the ones we had seen placed before we went to bed. Funny, I don’t remember most of my Thanksgiving presents, except pajamas, socks, and underwear--- there always seemed to be pajamas, socks, and underwear… but Santa wasn’t missed at all, and we knew who to thank. Our parents, and God.
PART TWO:
The Christmas Controversy
Time passed. Larry returned from Vietnam. Alive! He met, fell in love with, and married a beautiful Mexican girl, who you know as Lita. And they started a family. Four children came. I was the second.
Larry continued to serve his country in the Marine corps. And Larry, unlike so many soldiers who forget the promises they made on the battlefield to God, always remembered his. “If you love me, keep my commandments.” Somehow Larry knew that this meant so much more than just the “ten commandments” that he had heard all his life. So, Larry, who had been a very “bad” student in school, became a very good student of the Bible, on his own. He wanted to know what God had meant by “keep my commandments.” He read and read the Bible, searching and searching to understand it. He listened to priests and preachers, hungry to understand God. He even studied other religions and religious leaders… And he began to learn and to understand… and then he began to notice that those who told him to read and believe the bible, also told him things that were not “in” the Bible. Sometimes they told him to do the exact opposite of what it said to do, in the Bible. He began to ask questions about the contradictions and found that, while priests loved to answer questions when he was completely ignorant, they did not like to answer questions when he wanted to know why their instructions didn’t match the Bible. He was told he shouldn’t ask “those” questions.
Larry took his family and went from church to church, searching for a place that could answer his questions. Again and again he was told that he should not question those in charge of the Church. His questions were not welcome. And soon, he and his family were not welcome.
And then… the question of Christmas changed everything.
Larry had four children, and he loved playing with them, telling them stories, and thrilling them with magic and surprises. He loved the stories of Santa Clause, and Christmas carols and lights and decorations… Christmas trees… and snowmen… All of it. Larry loved Christmas… but as he studied the Bible, he started to realize that Christmas didn’t really make sense for the story of the birth of baby Jesus. Winter is very cold-- even in Israel. Why were there shepherds out in the fields watching their sheep all night? Jesus was placed in a manger, in a barn… Why would God have his son born in a place where it would be too cold for a baby? The season seemed a very odd choice for God. With a little more research, Larry discovered that Jesus’s birthday was the exact same day as a very old “Pagan” holiday called “Saturnalia.” and that evergreen trees were part of those “Pagan” holidays. You can “google” search all of this, if you want to learn more, but the point is… Larry discovered that Christmas was not really the birth of Christ at all. It was something else, and much, much older…. This couldn’t be a coincidence.
Not only that, but Larry began to see how much greed came out of people at Christmas. The commercials on TV told people how much they needed to buy to have a good Christmas. “Dad wants a new car with a big red bow…” “a diamond pendant necklace is what mom really wants…” And the kids…. “Toys toys toys!!!” Everyone was asking Santa for “stuff” at Christmas… Give me… Give me… Give me… I want… I want… I want!!!... What happened to “baby Jesus?”
So, he asked the Preacher of the Church we were attending. How did this all come to be… Christmas. And, when was Jesus really born?
Not only did the Preacher get angry that my Dad had asked those questions, but he told my Dad that if he really didn’t believe what the Church was telling him about Christmas and the birth of Jesus, then he shouldn’t celebrate Christmas at all…. Because if he did…. That would make him… A HYPOCRITE!
Larry was stunned… This made him feel very angry… and then very sad. Larry loved Christmas, but more than that, he loved his four children. And like all little children, his children loved Santa Clause. How could he take Santa and Christmas away from his children?...
Larry tried to think of ways to celebrate Christmas but still keep his promise to God… to keep God’s commandments. Larry was certain that Celebrating the birth of the Messiah on a pagan holiday was NOT “keeping his commandments.” Was he a hypocrite for doing something he knew was wrong? And to continue telling something that he knew was a lie?!
Larry began to realize that the world was filled with hypocrites. Priests and Preachers, Politicians, Presidents, Lawyers, Judges, Police officers, teachers…. Neighbors… Friends…. And even family members. Not all of them, of course, but he realized that people can’t be trusted just because of the title they wear. Especially people in positions of power… Larry realized that People would tell lies-- things they knew to be lies-- to manipulate, cheat, and control others. It all disgusted him, but what disgusted him most, were those hypocrites who lied to control others, in the name of God. Larry finally understood what the words God had told him meant. He had to follow God, even if no one else did. Even if the leaders of the Church told him to follow them instead. It’s easy to do what everyone else does. It takes courage and conviction to do what’s right, when no one else will. Larry had to find an honest Church. And…
Larry had to let Christmas go.
Brown Paper Packages
My dearest Amelia…
As you know, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. But perhaps you don't know how it came to be my favorite. You know that our family celebrates Thanksgiving a little differently than most American families. Of Course we have a big meal, with turkey, stuffing, and pies. But our family has added a very special element, and there’s a story of how that came to be. I’d like to tell you that story… and Well, to tell that story right, I have to start in 1966... In Vietnam.
PART ONE:
Vietnam
If you ever ask your Papa Larry about his youth, he'll tell you what a "bad kid" he was… Always getting into trouble-- stealing, skipping school, getting in fights, smoking... Pretty much everything you're not supposed to do. His dad died from cancer when he was three years old, leaving his mother with very little money, and too many kids. So, your grandfather was pretty much left to find his own way... And he'll tell you.... He made lots of bad choices.
Then, when he was 15, his mother also died of cancer. People didn't know how dangerous smoking was back then.... Sad. So, at age 15, your grandfather was an orphan.
Now back then, no one would have cared too much if a 15 year old was just left on his own to find a job and survive… or not. So, Larry wasn’t really anyone's concern. But, his younger brother and sister were sent to live with an older couple, Norman and Margret Knudson. They were distant relations and for some reason, they were never able to have children of their own. So they took in the younger Chalfant kids. No one expected them to take in Larry-- he was considered too much of a trouble maker. Everyone figured it was only a matter of time before Larry would end up in prison.
Now, the Knudsons were very special people. And interesting! Margret worked as a secretary for a Private investigator or a lawyer or something, and she actually carried a concealed weapon-- a pistol-- to work everyday. And Norman, was a “salty sailor” type. He captained Ferry Boats in the Puget Sound, near Seattle, Washington. He was a craftsman, an artist, a musician, and a woodcarver-- all “self taught” He built his entire home during the “Great Depression” from scrap lumber he collected. And he was a “big” man… I remember him being at least 6ft, 5 inches… Which may not seem so tall anymore, but… I remember him being so very, very tall… I wish I could have known them more-- I’m sure they had amazing stories to tell. Of course, with “Grandpa Norman,” I imagine a lot of his stories would have been “tall tales…”
But getting back to this story…. Like I said, no one expected anyone to take on the burden of taking in a 15 yr old troublemaker like Larry. But when Margret Knudsen heard that there was a child being left all alone, she said, “Nonsense!” She and Norman offered Larry a real home. They made him go to school. They made him behave. They gave him a place to belong. Love. and Care. And that’s how they eventually came to be known by me and my brothers and sister as… “Granny Nanny & Grandpa Norm.”
After some encouragement from the Knudsens, Larry graduated from high-school. He then joined the Marine Corps and after basic training… was sent to Vietnam… and WAR!
I’ve asked my dad about his time in Vietnam many times. For those of us who have never seen war-- and I pray we never do…. It’s a hard thing to understand. Killing and accepting “being killed” for your country… That kind of sacrifice… to believe in something that strongly…. I never thought I’d believe in anything that much. To make something more important than my own life... I just couldn’t comprehend it… Until I became a Daddy, and then, suddenly I understood that the purpose of my life truly was to serve something more important than me. You.
But this story isn’t about me…. yet, anyway… It’s about a young man in a green uniform, in a far away place, facing an enemy he doesn’t know, and doesn’t hate. He has been there several months. He has seen horrible things he never could have imagined. He has watched his friends be torn to pieces in front of him, and cry out in pain, and bleed, and suffer, and die. He knows there is someone out there in the jungle trying to kill him. Always… day and night. And he is afraid.
I have never known that kind of fear.
Your Papa Larry was born into a Catholic family. He went to Catholic Church when he was young. So even though he didn’t really think much about God as a kid, or teenager, when he Joined the Marines, and they asked him his religion… he said “Catholic.” And that’s what it said on his “dog tags.” So, when that young man found himself facing the soul crushing fear of war, he-- like so many young soldiers do-- began to search for the God they had been told about as children. And to bargain with that God for their lives… and perhaps more sincerely than anyone ever does…. Pray.
One night, Larry felt in his heart that he was about to face his death. The company of his comrades gave him no peace. He trembled in every muscle and bone with inescapable fear. As he wandered through the camp, he saw a light on, outside the camp chapel. He went inside, and found himself alone. Alone with God. He fell to his knees and prayed the prayer of every soldier… “Please God… spare my life… save me from this…. and I will be a good person…”
When Papa Larry tells of that night, you can tell that he remembers it with perfect clarity, as if he is reliving that moment again, and it just happened…
Trembling on his knees, hands clasped together tightly, feeling completely alone and terrified, praying, “Please God…. Please God….” Larry heard a voice. Did the voice fill the room? Or did he only hear it in his head and heart? Larry couldn’t tell-- all he knew was that it was real. It was God speaking directly to him. God said to Larry, “If you love me, keep my commandments.”
Larry opened his eyes, startled…. He didn’t actually expect to hear a voice. He looked around-- was there a priest in the room trying to trick him? He was completely alone. It must have been God! “If you love me, keep my commandments.” What did it mean? The “ten commandments?” Those were the only commandments Larry had ever heard of… Quickly, he promised to do so. “I will, God, I promise! I’ll follow your commandments! I promise!! Just please, let me live!...”
Larry left the chapel that night, feeling slightly confused, but at peace. He still had tremendous fear as he faced combat and the horrors of war, for several more months, and even for years after the danger was behind him. But he remembered his promise, and it gave him peace.
Now, most soldiers make promises to God before battle, but when the war is over, and the war memories fade, their promises to God also fade. But for Larry it was different-- Larry kept his promise.
Hi Amelia!
I hope you're having a good Holiday time.
I wrote a little "family history" about our Thanksgiving tradition.
It will be published in parts here.
let me know what you think.
Love, Daddy.
