As a kid, there were certain days throughout each year that I looked forward to with bated breath: Halloween, the once-a-year airing of The Wizard of Oz, and the last day of school (before summer vacation). Halloween offered a unique and exciting combination of scary + fun with a ton of candy thrown in. I loved candy corn. (Yes, I’m a fan.) And it was only sold for Trick or Treat season. Later, savvy marketers turned it into year-round profits by changing the colors to match other assorted holidays.The Wizard of Oz movie was my childhood favorite, but it was only available on cable TV once a year. I’d nervously scan the TV Guide watching for the show date so I could plan accordingly. This involved an early bath followed by a tray of snacks ready to go well before the opening credits. The last day of school was fantastic simply because it was followed by three months of freedom. And three months back then felt like forever. But Christmas Eve was epic! It was off the chart in terms of pee-in-your-pants excitement. The anticipation of what would occur during this one night (practically unbelievable) and what awaited us in the morning was incredible! Another reason for our giddy expectancy was that the holiday buzz began right after Halloween ended. I was still on a sugar high from all the sweet treats when I’d start pouring over the J.C. Penney Christmas catalog. Comparing and contrasting the toys I already knew I wanted with those I hadn’t seen before became a part-time job. Of course, there was a limit to what one could ask for. I kept crossing items off, changing my mind, changing it back, and rewriting new lists. This continued for weeks as the weather grew colder. Adding to the anticipation was the first snow that usually appeared by mid-November. Most Christmases in those days were white, and I equated one with the other; the white stuff meant it was ‘just around the corner.’ I’m hard-pressed to remember a green one in those early years. The visible effects of climate change were still decades away. Coming into the house after school, I smelled Pine-Sol, a sign that Mom’s annual holiday cleaning blitz had begun. In Sunday School, we began practicing the familiar caroling songs and Bible verses we’d recite for the Christmas program.Dad gave us $20 to buy gifts for the family, and we took the obligatory shopping trip to the mall. (There were no big box stores yet.) Within two hours, the shopping was complete because Dad believed in expediency on these excursions.Then there was the baking of cookies. I loved the peanut blossoms and decorated sugar cookies! We assisted and always got to lick the bowl and spoon. It still amazes me that no one got sick doing this. (And how about those Easter eggs we left sitting out for a week sans refrigeration?)Our two-story home was small, with three bedrooms and one bath. Before our younger sister came along, my brother and I had our own bedrooms. He was two years older and enjoyed teasing me as older siblings do. But, for the most part, it wasn’t mean-spirited. I think he wanted to maintain the status quo: he was older, (supposedly) smarter, and stronger. For my part, I was a bit of a whiner, crying to our mother for every perceived threat, including the dreaded Stinkeye. But Christmas Eve was the night we came together like Yin and Yang. We were a dedicated team, united in our efforts to stay awake long enough to see Santa in our downstairs living room. After baths and a bowl of cereal, we’d dutifully march to his bedroom (he had a double bed) and begin building a blanket fort with pillows and various objects. That never worked well, and we ended up supporting our tent. Armed with flashlights and a small battery-operated travel clock, the goal was to stay awake as long as necessary.We’d play games and look at the catalog, now creased with torn pages, quite marked up with our ever-changing wishlists. Mom would periodically yell up the stairs that it was time to go to sleep, and we’d quiet down for a while. Then the hushed giggling would commence, growing into loud whispers. We’d imagine and share all kinds of crazy scenarios of what might happen when we caught Santa delivering the goods. This brought on boisterous laughing, and Mom would reprimand us again, saying Old St. Nick would pass us by if we weren’t asleep when he arrived. For young children, midnight was pretty late, but we usually made it that far before finally falling asleep. It was a time when we innocently believed in a fairy who exchanged our baby teeth for money and a rabbit known for dropping off baskets of colored eggs and candy. Along with Santa Claus, these childhood icons performed their tasks in the dark of the night while kids were sleeping. Of course, only well-behaved children were rewarded, while bad kids got dusty chunks of coal. And we never suspected a thing.The common thread was a belief in something that didn’t seem possible. Magicians were another example of our naivete. They possessed a type of wizardry that allowed them to pull white bunnies out of top hats and sever attractive women into two halves without one drop of blood. We possessed just enough gullibility to believe our own eyes.In my pre-adolescence, when Santa and company had been cast aside as frauds (perpetuated on children to exact good behavior), I became fascinated with UFOs. My neighborhood friends and I would sleep outside on summer nights armed with binoculars, searching the night skies for any sign of flying saucers. The common thread was the belief in something that didn’t seem possible. Something that defied common sense and even science. What living creature can exist in outer space without oxygen and water? How could someone in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer travel the entire world in one night? How can a person be cut in half and not die, let alone continue smiling and waving to the audience? Our innocence allowed us to believe in the magical while preventing us from knowing our world's far less beautiful realities.I don’t recall many other details from Christmas Eve, but what remains fifty years later is the magnitude of excitement and wonder. There’s not much that creates such a frenzy for me these days. But then, magic for grownups has to do with reality and not the fantasies of our youth. What excites us is shaped by good and bad experiences. We learn to differentiate what’s real from imagined and savor all that’s truly meaningful. The tree's twinkling lights are still lovely but pale compared to the stars in the sky. The best gifts we receive, such as good health and genuine love, can’t be bought. It’s not the home-baked cookies that matter, but the time spent with loved ones.We don’t understand this as children, which is why the trappings of the Christmas holiday seem so magical. Sadly, as we age, our childish innocence is sacrificed, replaced by real-world good and bad experiences. That’s the price we pay for growing up.I’m certain this is part of the sadness I feel at this time of year; the forfeiture of something precious that can never be regained. Coupled with the loss of loved ones who were integral to those happy times, it’s hard not to feel melancholy. But, by remembering the Christmases of our past, we can honor those people and the poignant memories we shared. This nurtures our spirit and enables us to move forward towards new traditions and a future filled with happy memories yet to be made! 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There is nothing like a taste of illness to bring out the full flavour of health. ~Charles SearleIt’s taken about five decades to figure out some of life’s most valuable lessons, and one is to never let a toddler sneeze or cough directly into your face.My grandson did just that in early November while I was babysitting. It was the perfect trifecta that simultaneously hit me in the eyes, nose, and mouth. He had caught yet another cold from someone at the daycare he attends two days a week. Somehow he maintains a sunny disposition despite the snotty-nosed, bleary-eyed appearance that these bugs cause him on a regular basis. It only took a few days before I felt the cold coming on. It began with a tickle in the throat and progressed to a full-fledged head cold. Coughing, sneezing, and sinuses so severely compacted that I needed a jackhammer to loosen the congestion. Instead, I bought one of those decongestants requiring proof that you’re over 18. It contains dextromethorphan (known as DXM), which produces a euphoric high in large quantities. I prefer red wine or Tito’s vodka for that purpose. The DXM was strictly to return functional breathing through my nose, which would have given ME a euphoric high at the time!We don’t realize how lucky we are to wake up healthy.I battled the symptoms with an arsenal of daytime and nighttime cold medicines, nose spray, sinus decongestant, Emergen-C, Vicks Vaporub, and a Vaporizer, to name a few. It took a solid three weeks to feel better and get rid of the congestion and cough. I’m ashamed to admit that despite an ongoing effort to live more mindfully, I still forget to be consciously grateful for an average day. An average day means I wake up with nothing more than a minor ache or pain, and everyone I love is doing well. Consciously grateful as in making a daily affirmation of thanks for continued good health.After 50+ years of colds, flu, mumps, pneumonia, chickenpox, sinus infections, rashes, seasonal allergies, etc. I still say the same thing upon getting sick: We don’t realize how lucky we are to wake up healthy.We tend to take good health for granted, like everything else, until we don’t have it. I realized this in a BIG way back in 2017. While house-sitting for my son in Florida, Hurricane Irma struck and left us without electricity for five days AND running water for three days. I consider myself pretty tough, but that was rough for someone who doesn’t even go camping (I have a penchant for running water.) Thank God for the inground pool. At least I could rinse off and flush the toilet. Floors had to be mopped, and the refrigerator emptied. The air-conditioning was down, making cleanup even harder and sweatier because Florida in September is still pretty hot!After that experience, I was mindful every time I flipped a light switch or turned on the faucet. But, over time, the memory of those sweltering days faded, and I went back to my inattentive ways.Then October came bringing an illness that won’t ever go away. Unless they find a cure. I first wrote about this in an earlier post from November 1st. It’s a type of blood cancer best known as leukemia. There are different types, and the one I have is called Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia or CLL. There are two forms: a fast-growing type that requires immediate treatment and a slow-growing type that often doesn’t require treatment for years. I got lucky that mine is the indolent or inactive kind, at least for now. I hope I'm one of those people that doesn't experience any symptoms for years. Being 61 puts me in the proverbial third act of life. Once you reach this stage, it’s about making peace with the past and building some kind of legacy. The ability to accomplish these essential goals would make taking the final bow a whole lot easier.However, I won’t leave behind any sizable inheritances or significant assets. Despite my childhood dreams of accomplishing greatness that would earn me fame and fortune, mine were achievements of a more personal kind. My fame is shared among a small tribe; my fortune is even smaller.Some people choose to devote their lives to building careers and professional identities. From the time they’re young, they invest themselves fully into making those goals a reality, often at great sacrifice. Necessity forced me to invest in the family I created, but I never gave up on my own dreams. I attended college part-time throughout the years in an effort to build a future for myself.But this diagnosis confirmed the things which matter most, at least in my mind. No amount of money can buy a cure. And tangible things certainly have value for which I’m grateful (a warm bed on cold winter evenings.) But what matters most? People, of course. My first reaction upon hearing the news was fear that I wouldn’t be spending the upcoming holidays with my family. Not fear of the diagnosis or what it would mean in terms of illness, symptoms, or treatment, but panic regarding whether I’d share the company of my loved ones over Christmas. At that moment, I realized (once again) how priceless those connections are in my life. We all experience events that remind us of the importance of our relationships. Usually, when they’re threatened by forces beyond our control and sometimes when it’s within our control. Unexpected illness and injury are common ones, but what about a significant other who no longer feels loved and appreciated? Or, we’ve neglected a lifelong friend lately due to an over-busy schedule. This is when awareness makes a difference.MindfulnessBeing mindful of anything isn’t easy. There are so many competing distractions. This is why we have to make a concerted daily effort to spend some time being focused on who and what really counts in our lives.This diagnosis confirmed what matters most, at least in my mind. No amount of money can buy a cure. And tangible things certainly have value for which I’m grateful (a warm bed on cold winter evenings.) But what matters most? People, of course. My first reaction upon hearing the news was fear that I wouldn’t be spending the upcoming holidays with my family. Not fear of the diagnosis or what it would mean in terms of illness, symptoms, or treatment, but panic regarding whether I’d share the company of my loved ones over Christmas. This was a eureka moment, realizing my own health was secondary to these priceless connections in my life. We all experience events that remind us of the importance of our relationships. Usually, when they’re threatened by forces beyond our control and sometimes when it’s within our control. Unexpected illness and injury are common ones, but what about a significant other feeling underappreciated due to an over-busy schedule? Or, a child craving our attention that’s focused too often on a cell phone?This is where mindfulness can help. But, if you’re like me, I’ve always assumed the act requires a yoga mat, candles, maybe a lotus plant strategically placed nearby, and a dedicated chunk of time each day. However, that’s not the case at all.The founder of the modern mindfulness movement, Jon Kabat-Zinn, reminds us that practicing awareness, moment to moment, without judgment, only requires five minutes. Even this brief amount of time can restore a sense of calm and control in our otherwise hectic lives. I’ve included below a short, easy meditation for us to try. Hopefully, we’ll restore some serenity into our souls and raise our awareness of all we have to be grateful for! 5 - MINUTE MEDITATION in 4 EASY STEPS* Eliminate all distractions - turn off phone notifications and set a timer for 5 minutes.* Sit in a comfortable position if possible (standing works, too.)* Focus on your breathing and quiet the ‘mental 'chatter’ in your head: * Repeat a word or mantra - “I am enough,” “In, Out, In, Out” to coincide with breathing. * Listen to a sound - Choose something like a whirring fan or birds singing.* Focus on an image - Choose something that represents peace and beauty.* Take a deep breath when the timer goes off, and gently wiggle your fingers and toes. Ease back into your routine slowly and quietly.* Have you or someone you love experienced an illness that caused you to redefine what really matters in life? If so, let us know in the Comments…we can learn from one another.* And, as always, thanks for being a part of my Tuesday. 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