Mile High Holiday-A Denver Cherney Journey

I just flew in from Denver and boy, are my arms tired. Well, from carrying luggage. What did you think I meant? What? That's stupid.

It's been far too long between Cherney Journeys and at long last, off I twent into the wild gray yonder, it being December in Oregon and murky is the name of that tune. But up, up and away I flew from the Northwest of the Pacific and returned to Denver, Colorado, home of Broncos, Rockies and Omelettes, in order to visit members of my fam. I flew solo this time around, my wife unable to make the trip, which put me in a self-inflicted precarious state of mind due to too much anxiety and lotsa Jewish guilt by proxy. You see, mi familia that I refer to is the one I so happily married into almost a quarter of a century ago, therefore, my wife's side and her blood. Those remaining in mine are few and far between, making it rather sparse on that side of the church none of us would have attended. This Denver contingent consists of the cast of my book PLEASE HOLD THUMBS which involved the wedding of my stepdaughter Lindsay to my eventual son-in-law Chris in South Africa, a union that has given us two off-spring, granddaughters extraordinaire, Aefa and Athena.

Aefa, the eldest of the two, has grown into an amazingly gorgeous young woman in the decade she has graced us here on earth. The greeting she gave me and the love she showed me totally decimated the barnacles of my cynical heart. Her little sister, three year old Athena, was the question mark. A spitting image of her mother at that age, she is a force of Mother Nature incarnate in a half-pint size body. Advance word was that she would be standoffish and totally shy around this curmudgeon in training, but they underestimated the Power of the Grandpa. I worked my way into that hard candy shell within the first twenty minutes of my arrival until me totally under her own super powers, wrapping me around her itty bitty fingers.

The main event of said sojourn was to witness the budding actress Aefa in a performance of BEAUTY AND THE BEAST JR., a concept of which I was initally baffled. What could be missing in the junior version of a Disney property? Some randy doings between B and B? Is Chip the illegitimate cup of Mrs. Potts? Does "Be Our Guest" have a double meaning? I guess I should have been grateful it was ANGELS IN AMERICA JR. When I discovered this was merely scaled down and truncated from the original, boy was my face red. (Not really, but I'll cop to the ignorance) But I would have gone to see Aefa in anything (and have and will again). To be front and center for this particular production honored me to no end. She hads evolved into a real theater kid, even to the point of rattling off her numerous credits like the seasoned ten year old veteran that she now is.

So I headed back into familiar territory, that of Children's Theater, able to sit right up front next to Chris' lovely mother Elke, visiting from South Africa, two grandparents, side by side, weeping openly under our masks at the sight of our Aefa on opening night. She charmed us by her mere presence alone, but when she displayed the passionate enthusiasm she threw into her performance, I was knocked for a positive loop. I lived vicariously threw her joy of performing before a live audience and the fact that she is so emotionally involved at this early stage of her young life speaks volumes and fortunately, I'm not the only one to hear her. With support, she will continue on and who knows where she's headed, though if it were up to me, all the way. 

As for Denver itself, I didn't see much this time around but it wasn't that kind of a trip, so gratefully immersed in the bosom of my family that I was. What I did experience was a lovely taste of holiday cheer as the brood decorated their Christmas tree. This ornaments are all personalized, one or more from each year that Chris and Lindsay have been married and with a meaning attached to every one of them. Some were from South Africa, others designated special events like the birth of their daughters, their moves to Brooklyn and Denver and my favorite, a solid white globe with the picture of a dung beetle, representing a tough year that they managed to get through and move on. This family ritual of theirs gave him something I haven't had in many a year, more than just a modicum of holiday spirit. It was actually the star atop my own personal tree and has remained shining since my return.

This was a true Cherney Journey, one that afforded me the luxury of getting out of my own head, live entirely in the moment and reflect upon the past, present and future with open eyes and mind. I headed back to Portland to my wife and life with newfound vigor, insight and recharged batteries to face whatever lies ahead. 

Christmas spirit? Dude, I'm soaking in it. 

Nice change of pace.

Happy Holidays Already

Happy Holidays.
It's a greeting.
You want to say Merry Christmas?
Do it.
But don't insist on the latter when anyone else who tells you the former.
It's a big wide wonderful world out there with all kinds of people wanting to celebrate this time of year just like you do, maybe not in the same manner but for the same basic reason.
So let's drop all the pretense.
Someone is wishing you well when they say those words.
You should be grateful to hear those words at all and if you're willing to do so, wish them the same using whatever verbiage you wish to convey.
Now, and especially now, after the year we've all had, we can come together in spirit and give each other the thing we need most in this life...
PEACE.
Sorry. Didn't mean to yell.
Peace
And Happy Holidays, y'all and to y'all, a good night.

Jingle Balls...uh, Bells

Seasons Greetings and all that humbuggery to you and yours. I’m surprised we’re even celebrating a holiday Wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of War on Christmas?

this year.

“Look out! The Virgin Mary’s got a gun!”

My mood fluctuates from day to day. To keep from plummeting into what Robert Crumb used to call “The Dreaded Depths of Despair” is a full time job and frankly, I just don’t have the time. It’s amazing I found time to rustle up some spare minutes to crank out another entry for this exercise in futility. How the hell do people manage to blog each and every day? Oh, that’s right. I’ve read their stuff.

“Which would you rather have-air or water? Discuss.”

It’s not as if my shit is any better. My archive is chock full of nothing more than a collection of comments, snide, snarky and superficial, supposedly under the guise of “sharp criticism”. Right. I’m about as sharp as Nicole Richie on Celebrity Jeopardy. Recently I was accused of being a “smart guy”. Don’t you believe it. It’s all smoke, mirrors and misdirection. Hell, I couldn’t even muster up a few sentences to memorialize one of my personal heroes, Robert Altman. The man and his work had an impact on my life but I’ll damned if I could muster up a syllable to explain why and how. The only thing I could think of was to paraphrase what Billy Wilder and William Wyler said about Ernst Lubitsch.

No more Robert Altman. Even worse. No more Robert Altman films.

(I don’t so much create as much as I memorize.)

You want a tribute to Altman? Watch his films. His work speaks for itself as he spoke through his work. I would suggest NASHVILLE, CALIFORNIA SPLIT, BREWSTER MCCLOUD, THE PLAYER and to my mind, one of the best films ever made, MCCABE AND MRS. MILLER. As for me, I halfway expect Ol' Bob to make another of his signature comebacks in a couple of years. Talk about denial…

The reason for this funk o’ mine can’t be blamed on the season. It’s just coincidental that these doldrums across the Mohawk are blossoming right here and right now during the most wonderful time of the year. I even got to the point where I was rustling through my pockets for Zusu’s petals. All I could come up with was an unwrapped Ricola covered in lint.

BUT…

Amazing Grace…how sweet the sound…that saved a wretch like me….

Last week I took in the annual Gospel Christmas concert with the Portland Symphony and the Northwest Community Gospel Chorus and had the spirit move me. Hallelujah!

This was Gospel Authentica, a roof raising experience that I had been wanting to experience for years. By night’s end I was on my feet, clapping my hands and ready to testify! Symphony conductor Charles Floyd and choir director Gary Hemenway at the helm of a superb group of singers and musicians will be forever in my debt for rescuing me from a total meltdown that day. I can’t honestly say the Christmas Spirit suddenly possessed me, but the therapeutic results of that show has lasted for a solid week so far. Praise the Lord and pass the mistletoe.

As for y’all out there, I guess all that I want to say is what I’ve been saying for the last couple of years.

Be good to each other and for your own sake, be good to yourselves.

You deserve it.

We all do.

Merry Christmas to all
and to all
good night and good luck.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Fire in the ho-ho-ho!

There's a war on Christmas!

Yes, my friends, there is a push toward a Holy War in this country or, more apropos, a Holy Civil War. Duck and cover, 'tis the season to be surly.

Why are they so many pinheads in this world? Has there always been this percentage of the populace that are just FAT-heads...and I do mean they have heads chock full o' animal fat...and there seems to be an abundance of these feebs and cretins because of over-population? Or was an unreported Stupid Bomb detonated in outer space and  radiation is just raining down upon the Earth on a daily basis?

There is a Major Tool on the Northwest radio airwaves named Lars Larson (no kidding, that's his real name-sounds all Hanna-Barbera, doesn't it?) who actually wanted to erect a cross in downtown Portland opposite a large menorah and the unfortunately renamed "Holiday" tree to educate we heathens about the true meaning of Xmas. Bob's Big Boy lookalike Lars kinda mixed up his holidays. The Nativity scene is a little more symbolic of the season. The crucifix commemorates Easter, I believe. However, it was thought that the baby Jesus would be stolen by left-wing wackos (because that's what they do). The kibosh was put on the cross too since Lars and his minions heard it would be desecrated in some manner as well...or turned into a cellular tower.

On top of this is this notion that saying Happy Holidays is just plain WRONG! It's EVIL! It's not CHRISTIAN!

Shut up! It's a GREETING, YOU IGNORAMUSES! What the hell is wrong about an all-encompassing greeting? Yes, it's Christmas, Yes, it's Hanukkah. Yes, it's Kwanzaa. Yes, it's a bunch of other holidays whether you like it or not.

Okay, fine. Let's just call it what it is then. If it's Christmas and only Christmas, let's pronounce it correctly. From now on, it's the long I. Phonetically...Crystmas.

And no more Santa Claus either. I don't remember him in that story. Besides, a simple respelling of the name Santa becomes...well, you know who.

As for the rest of you nitwits, it's a Christmas tree. That's what it's called. They're Christmas carols...songs about Christmas. Stop it already. Quit provoking these fools. Leave the holidays alone. Save your political correctness diatribes for your non-denominational cocktail parties where you can load up on Asti Spumante and tofu appetizers and trash Republicans from now until New Year's.

Small wonder why I have no spirit right now. This is the time of year when we're supposed to drop all this bullshit for at least a little while. Can't we at least try to enjoy ourselves and concentrate on things that are really important and personal in our lives? Let's have a cease fire, okay? (I think I'm just repeating what I said last year at this time but so what.) Granted, no one right now is exactly living the Life of Riley, not even Riley himself. The world is totally fucked up. There's an obscene war going on, we've had the worst series of weather conditions in anyone's given memory, the Republicans hate the Democrats and the Democrats hate the Republicans, everyone is stressed out their minds for one reason and/or another due to crime, inflation, poverty, hunger....etc., etc.,etc. We're all doomed!!!!!!!!!

But hey, everybody, listen to Linus.
Do you hear what I hear?
It's Christmas, Charlie Brown.

All that horrible stuff is going to be here next week. There's no reason to have agita every single freaking day.

Take a break. Be good to each other and, I mean this literally, for Christ's sake, be good to yourselves for a change.

From all of us...
...to all of you....

Happy Holidays

Now shut the fuck up.