What would any year be without some wacky weirdness from the Rankin-Bass team of yesteryear? I knew there was a show with a New Year character, and after some brief YouTube searching, I was overjoyed to discover it anew. In this scene, from Rudolph's Shiny New Year, Happy (The New Year) meets The Three Little Bears. Mama and Baby Bear have hilarious New York accents: "Youse ma fwiend!"
It's pretty out there, right? In one of the last scenes, Santa gets Happy to Father Time by the 12th bong, while Aeon the vulture laughs himself silly in a smoky cloud. Hmmmmm...
"One love, one heart
Let's get together and feel all right"
Part of life for voracious readers is the nature of time. Add every other conceivable thing into the mix, and you can imagine that a lack of quality time (coupled with silence), marks the definitive challenge for erudite scholars. Books and reading are so much a part of my life, it can be disconcerting when I encounter someone who lacks the drive and curiosity to engage written material. How does one remain ignorant of the hidden intricacies of Shakespeare? Or the poems of Robert Frost and ee cummings? How about the wild, crazy, virile masculinity of Hemingway?!
Experiences captured on the page by the sharpest intellects inform us by whisking us away to other places and times, allowing the reader to walk in someone elses' shoes, feel what it is to be them and have their experiences, through the creation of a window to their world. To me, the most skilled writer is also an adept time traveller, so complete is our transportation. It also develops an enormous sense of empathy within the avid reader, and a keenness for what it means to be human.
You can imagine my terror when I meet someone who fobs off the pleasures of reading as the pursuit of an aesthete who simply chooses to escape from daily life. Such is not the case with me, though I speak only for myself, and not for every bibliophile on the planet. It has given me the ability to have insights beyond my extensive life experiences, which are rather vast for someone my age. I have been accused more than once of making up fake stories, a crasser mind would accuse me of "lying", because it was inconceivable to my listener that I could absorb so much in such a relatively short amount of time. And yet I have, and that is a fact.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on who you are) I'm primarily a visual artist, and an avid photographer, so I can provide proof to corroborate most of my life stories. But, it is disheartening. After all, I consider my life to be one of learning and teaching, constantly on a quest for improvement, ever striving upwards. What does one do with the permanently stuck, sick, or close-minded, the willfully ignorant, those who choose darkness and seal their off hearts, minds, and ears to information, the kind that is truly beneficial, those helpful facts from our shared existence?
I don't have a ready answer for that. Luckily, I have become adept at making excellent decisions, snap judgments, and choices that go with my gut very quickly, so I tend to screen out that degree of intolerance from my life. It is another skill I feel blessed to have, one that was honed by many hours of observing human nature, asking questions, meeting a wide variety of people from many walks of life and regions on this earth, along with expert testimony from books, written by the best minds, and with a deft hand.
I once saw an interview with the late, great writer James Baldwin, taken place during his last years in Paris. He talked about the poverty of his birth and also the spark he felt within, despite the lack of available outlets and resources around him, and at being the only one of his kind, in his immediate environs. He explained that he made it a goal to read every book at the local free public library, in his neighborhood in Harlem, and that he knew he would come out an educated person if he did so. And he was right.
Determining who among us share that same excitement and zest, those who are lit from within with a "joie de vive", and to coax that flame into a raging fire, is tantamount to saving a life. The stereotype of the shuttered bookworm who seeks to add nothing to the experiences around them is a woefully inadequate stereotype. Reading is essential to growth. Period. If you encounter resistance, as I so often do, smile, and then hand them a book, tailored just for them. It's a gift that will last a lifetime. So, what exactly are you waiting for?
Quite a few of my friends, in addition to working full or part-time, are also mothers, and not just to older children. Thanks to better health care, many of them are in their 40s with babies and toddlers. Toy options reflect a sophisticated parenting demographic.
Part of the work as a children's book artist/author is to speak to each child's phase, stimulating different regions within the brain to activate and grow. Imaginative thinking through creative play is critical. "Touch-and-Play" books are for toddlers (often made with fuzzy, soft materials, like the the classic "Pat the Bunny" books) , picture books for bedtime reading with parents are geared towards the 3-6 year old range, then comes books with more text for older children, and finally the "YA" market, or young adult, made for teens. Coupled with our interest in books, comes anything that is geared towards learning and children. Many books come packaged with small toys, so they hold a special place for me, not just for their sense of fun, but for their effect upon children.
As the only girl in my family growing up, I received many types of baby dolls and stuffed animals as gifts, yet a select few have withstood the test of time: Raggedy Ann, and my beloved Paddington Doll, whose interest was nurtured through books about the lovable British Bear, named after the famed train station where he was found. My Bear doll went through some rough patches, too. Snowflake, our lovable furry Samoyed, mistook many of my animals as chew toys, as most dogs do, because the scale and textural similarities are too close to their playthings.
After finding my toy covered in slobber, with the yellow hat ripped to shreds and the ears torn, I asked my mama to sew the injured ear back on while I watched, in case I needed to perform emergency surgery in the future. Luckily, Snowflake had not ingested those dolly parts. I even took Bear on a family vacation (since he was clearly so well travelled!) and then left him behind in the hotel room. Bereft, I beseeched my dad for weeks to call the hotel and see if anyone had found him. It left me devastated, such is the place that treasured toys have in children's hearts. I remember it so clearly to this day, like the fable of the sick boy and The Velveteen Rabbit.
Just as wintertime brings early darkness, so it can more strongly elicit a childs' dread at things that go bump in the night. Nighttime fears and bedtime tantrums can wear down the most capable parent. Night lights plugged into bedroom sockets, or story lamps projecting soothing images onto walls and ceilings can help, but nothing compares with touch to provide a child with a tactile sense of safety and security. Enter "Glowy", my favorite dolly for sleepy time. The Glow worm toy has the right combo of warmth and squish factor. You squeeze his tummy and his face lights up from within. It's innate good cheer is pretty hard to beat. I was pleased to find that this classic toy is still made, updated with different versions, colors, fabrics and sizes. Instead of battling through bedtime, creating bad sleeps for parent and child, which lead to a childhood of difficult nights, try a toy that's been designed by the best minds out there, in conjunction with the books we make for you, to help you both.
Many of us have chosen paths in life that have not historically reaped financial benefits, because they are often devalued and marginalized within our society. Ironically, these roles often serve the most critical functions, like teaching, health care, and artistic endeavors which benefit everyone they serve. Why is that? As we worked our way through the confusing morass of values thrown at us during the holiday season, it often acerbates already present conflicts and tensions that exist within family units. Depression is at an all-time high this time of year. Last year, I lost a friend to suicide, after he spent his first Christmas alone while in the midst of divorce proceedings. It remains one of the saddest time periods of my life. He is survived by his wife and two young, beautiful boys.
I've written prior about the meaning of a true gift, and yet, messages are compounded daily into the heads of susceptible, vulnerable people, that leave them empty, angry, and confused, subsumed by this large, aching void which cannot be filled by any amounts of time, money or attention. Even with the hardships I've endured in my life, I am at peace, despite living contrary to the populist idea of what constitutes "The American Dream". So, how can than be? Perhaps it helps to dwell upon the nature of a calling, the compelling attractiveness of turning one's back on commercialized marketing messages by seeking a different path, and the fulfillment that can bring to ones' life.
I do not often catch daytime t.v. talk shows, but I did see an episode on Oprah Winfrey's show that I absolutely loved, and that I have never forgotten. It was a two-part special which delved into the lives of Catholic nuns and the young women who were in the process of conversion, a lengthy time period of study and contemplation. Listening to these brave women accept a calling and "reject" seemingly traditional society, perfectly highlighted to me what a strait jacket this mythic attainment of American life has become to many, many people, that leaves them feeling like failures. This distorted sense of self, and a lack of what constitutes real success, often makes people feeling bitter, insecure, and with a cripplingly sense of fear, robbing them of the ability to live a truly happy life. I cannot help but applaud the women who have jumped off the treadmill of the "rat race" to live a life full of devotion and spirituality. Bravo.
The women speak best for themselves, in their own words. Due to the large and profitable empire that is Oprah. com, I couldn't find video content that did not return to their site. Please click on the links provided to see clips from the show. It's worth it: http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Lisa-Ling-Spends-a-Day-in-the-Life-of-Nuns-Video and
Tonight I'm attending Midnight Mass, which kicks off what is possibly the biggest birthday celebration in the world.
I haven't attended church on Christmas Eve since early adulthood, when I was home on break from college. There will be a musical exhibition before tonights' service. The pop culture equivalent for me is "Welcome Christmas", a song from the original animated version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The townspeople from "Who-ville" usher in the holiday with joined hands and song. May your heart be lifted and filled with joy on this special day. Merry Christmas!
Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome Christmas come this way
Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome Christmas, Christmas day
Welcome, welcome fahoo ramus
Welcome, welcome dahoo damus
Christmas day is in our grasp
So long as we have hands to clasp
Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome Christmas bring your cheer
Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome all Whos far and near
Welcome Christmas, fahoo ramus
Welcome Christmas, dahoo damus
Christmas day will always be
Just so long as we have we
Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome Christmas bring your light
(hum next two lines...)
Welcome Christmas, fahoo ramus
Welcome Christmas, dahoo damus
Welcome Christmas while we stand
Heart to heart and hand in hand
Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome welcome Christmas Day...
Welcome, welcome X-mas day....
Yesterday I went into Midtown, visiting St. Patrick's Cathedral and Rockefeller Center. Rock Center is famed worldwide for its enormous Christmas tree, which typically comes from the tri-state area. Last year I saw a marriage proposal on ice, and I immediately caught the Christmas spirit. This years' sightseeing had the same effect upon me, though the crowds can be daunting. Sidewalks fill with school kids going to see The Radio City Christmas Spectacular, while tourists flock to the sites, crowding the views. I navigated it successfully, fortified by a big street vendor pretzel and chocolate from Dylan's Candy Bar.
Years ago, I promised my parents that I would take better care of myself. To honor that agreement, I set aside some time just for me, every year on my birthday. It could be getting a facial and a massage, maybe sharing good food and drink with family and friends, or perhaps reading a book and then watching a movie, while relaxing comfortably at home. Whatever it is, I urge you to do the same, so that you may be more supportive and present, for the loved ones in your life. Please feel free to borrow my annual tradition.
Cooler temperatures mean different clothing. Across the Eastern seaboard and beyond, packed away items are taken down from the attic, or unpacked out of the back of the closet, with a bevy of wintry wear options: hats, gloves, boots, etc. An inevitable part
of winter is the bulky sweater.
I have a few that I keep because it's part of my heritage, like the woolly Fisherman cable knit "hand-me-down" from my Mom.
When "MooMoo" was a teenager, she got it as a souvenir gift from her parents (my grandparents), after an Ireland trip they took in the 60s. I've worn it a handful of times, mostly on St. Patrick's Day. Other than that, when was the last time I went deep-sea fishing in a blowy storm? Never. The itch-factor is almost unbearable in conditions other than the ones the sweaters were originally intended for. Steve McQueen pulled it off appropriately, because he's cooler than you or I will ever be.
Which brings me to the worst offender on the list (besides the Christmas sweater), and that is The Cosby Sweater. There are dudes who sport the same tired yet oddly jaunty sweater year after year after year, like that guy from your office who still wears a Members Only jacket. Unlike The Williamsburg Hipster (http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/2011/11/hipster-infestation.html),he's totally clueless that he's the only member left.
Readers my age and older, or those of you into late-night sitcom re-runs, probably remember The Cosby Show. I never watched a full episode, but I channel-surfed past it. The show had a big and unfortunate cultural impact on wardrobe choices throughout the 80s. Every "Hey! Hey! Hey!! I'm a fun guy!" type at your office or school thought wearing an insanely bright and overly patterned sweater made him stand out, supposedly in a good way. Such was not the case. Let's take a trip down memory lane together, shall we?
Dear Readers and Fellow Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Horror Fans,
I have a big update to the article "Monsters, Inc." http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/2011/10/monsters-inc.html.
My birthday is this week, and as such, I received a gift from my Irish twin in the mail: a framed portrait and a copy of the Famous Monsters article that spurred our trip, along with a few photos our parents took of us visiting Forrest J Ackerman, all those years ago.
Framed photo with Monster article
It's right there in the photos: the Forrest face pins we got, and the souvenir pencils. What a great memory of a loving, kind generous fan, like Mr. Ackerman. Thanks, bro! Best. Gift. Ever. Henceforth, it will hang proudly in my office.
The Doucette Kids at The Ackermansion in Hollyweird, Karloffornia.
December is jam-packed in my family. We have birthdays in addition to Christmas, which include: my middle brother, my mom, me, and my oldest nephew. The celebrations tend to collide and combine into one, big blur.
This weekend materfamilias celebrates her 70th birthday. I have decided to mark the occasion by dubbing it "The Queen's Jubilee." In honor of my very New York mama ( with her very strong Bronx accent ) , allow me to introduce you to the infallible humor of "Mitty Moo", a lovable character created by her adoring son, actor/comedian John Roberts. I made up a nickname for my mom as a kid, too. I called her "MooMoo", when I snuggled up next to her, because I thought it sounded cute.
Anyone with a tri-state mama will have this voice ringing inside their heads. I know I do. When I showed my mom a video online, she was amazed at the similarities. "Omigawd!! she gasped, "She even uses the same words as me!", with her hand drawn up to her chest. I have no idea if my mom knows this is a guy dressed up as his mom.
In any case, she's right. They "tawk" they same way, and they use the same expressions. "Un-bee-leave-able" is a drawn out word my mom uses for the biggest to the most minor situations. They also share an affinity for pointing out objects observed from a car window, while driving or being driven, making it impossible for their car partner to join in. "Ah! Look at the ducks!". Lately, I've been saying to myself "Look at this tree!", when I take nature walks. As different as we are, we have some common traits after all.
Sometimes stress from the holidays make us reconsider how we spend our time. It makes me want to bow out completely! My escape involves indulging in fantasies like running away to a foreign beach for Christmas, sending postcards back home to family and loved ones.
Tim Burton feels my angst. My favorite "Anti-Xmas Hype" song of all-time is "Making Christmas" fromthe animated film, The Nightmare Before Christmas ( my favorite movie, which you already know: http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/2011/10/nightmare-before-christmas.html ). The town decides to help Jack Skellington co-opt the holiday, albeit in their typically dark fashion:
This time of year can be a hotbed of dysfunction, bringing out the best or the worst in people. Ever been elbowed in the ribs by a harried shopper, caught up in the frenzy for this year's top-selling item, in an overcrowded and overheated store? What a crazy way to spend the day! I'd rather spend my time with like-minded souls.
It's also the reason I avoid midtown during the holidays. My grandfather used to say, "Buy for Baby Jesus!", perfectly mocking the ridiculousness and hypocrisy about spending an ungodly amount of money in celebration of a holiday which lauds totally different values.
Under our Christmas trees, besides presents, there's a manger which represents the birth of Jesus Christ. As a child, I moved the statues of The Three Wise Men closer and closer to the Nativity Scene in the town of Bethlehem, during the month of December and into early January. They followed a bright star as a guide, bearing gifts of frankincense and myrrh to honor His birth. We place a white bulb for the star above the manger, hanging angel ornaments near His crib.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a total "Grinch". I enjoy reflecting upon the people in my life by giving them things I hope they like. There's no annoying slogans with me, like "Jesus is the Reason for the Season!" It's too strident. We should try to let our actions and thoughts show everyone what's it's all about.
I've completed the final touches to my annualChristmastown. First up, the scene at the mantel. A blanket of snow has covered the floor. But, who are the inhabitants this year? Let's go in for a closer look.
Looks like a neighborhood of Santas have sprung up, to the right of the Nativity Scene. One is Scottish, that's apparent from his kilt, but where do the others hail from? Maybe the Santa Claus in the plane just flew in from the North Pole. I'll have to keep on eye on this block, for any new developments that occur. Let's call it Santaville.
I see The Simpsons of Springfield have settled in for the holidays, bringing friends with them to the party. Bart is looking particularly angelic this year, while Barney looks a little worse for the wear. I guess we know who's been Naughty and who's been Nice! Chief Wiggum seems unconcerned, even though Ralphie eats paste straight from the jar. The garden gnomes enjoy fresh powder from a new snowfall. Feisty as always.
Lots of fun, colorful lights twinkle with holiday cheer...
As fun as Christmas village can be ( Barney gets a little rowdy ) , nothing tops the beauty of a decorated tree, except maybe an angel. Even the coziest of dens can be decked out for the holidays.
Sometimes, a native New Yorker ( me=4th generation ) has to just shake their head in wonder. Ever have one of those days when you see something so weird, you can't believe it just happened? For us, this happens on an almost daily basis. Our fair city attracts its fair share of loners, misfits, freaks, geeks, wannabes, anyone looking to recreate themselves into their vision of the American Dream, be it Rock Star, Ad Man, Wall Streeter, what have you.
The Christmas movie that best identified this internal power struggle, for living an authentic life, is the elf character from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,Hermey the Misfit Elf. He hides his secret from the other elves; he prefers dentistry to making toys! Hermey realizes he can't be happy pretending to be someone he's not anymore. Once he accepts himself for who he truly is, he finds real acceptance. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rudolph_the_Red-Nosed_Reindeer_(TV_special)
How great is Burl Ives as Sam Snowman? What a beautiful voice. His character is so cute, shushing through the snow. I instantly loved this classic Rankin/Bass from the opening song. As a little girl, it made me so happy and psyched for the holidays. Nothing is more cheerful than a roaring fire, a decorated tree with gifts underneath, and a sparkling blanket of snow covering the ground on Christmas morning, followed by a big pancake breakfast.
Of course, many of my readers will guess that I loved Yukon Cornelius and his doggies. "Mush! Yah! Mush!", as I watched the holiday special snuggling my snow doggie, Snowflake, the prettiest Samoyed a little girl could wish for.
When the stress from too many obligations, or gifts to buy, starts to get you down, just remember, it could be worse—
My favorite Christmas movie of all-time is Elf. The first half is a "fish out of water" storyline, about a human boy raised by Elves. The second half is a classic "Newcomer to New York" tale: Buddy makes his way around town, just like Mary Tyler Moore did, but funny, and strangely enough, truer to how it must feel upon introduction to our very unique lifestyle here.
Nothing epitomizes the toughness of our area better than when Buddy meets his first New York raccoon. He receives a different welcome than the one in the North Pole:
After Buddy meets his publishing executive dad, he's introduced to the rest of his human family. In this scene, they have dinner together for the first time:
Perhaps the best scene ( for me ) is Buddy's first day in the office, at the publishing house where his father works. How I've longed to pick up the phone and answer it like this!
Best of all, Elf captures the magic of the holidays in New York, when the city puts on its' best outfit to show the world why we're #1.
Who wouldn't like glittering snowflakes and twinkling Christmas lights, while skating at Rock Center with your loved ones? Buddy gets his first taste of the town, here in this clip:
Nothing made me happier than the scene when Buddy exposes the Evil Santa Ring that's been trumping kids out of gifts forever.
