This is a quiet Christmas for us. Patsy, Maureen’s sister, will be joining us for brunch and opening presents. Maureen made an incredible supper of scallops last night and we watched “The Ref.” We have reservations for a “Christmas” dinner at Giardino’s, one of our go-to restaurants this evening. We will call our daughters, brothers, sisters and their families throughout the day, probably a couple of close friends as well.

That’s it.

It’s okay. i’m not big into getting gifts. Don’t get me wrong. i appreciate the ones i get because it shows the one(s) bearing the gift care for me. The caring is the feel good part. And i have not had a perfect Christmas since back in the late seventies. Someone was not there with me ever since then. i missed my father in 2014 and my mother in 2013, and Christmas was special when i was with them.

In the Navy, i missed several Christmases (and more Thanksgivings) away from my family. They were the toughest. Now, if i began to feel sorry i’m missing someone, i think of all of today’s men and women service members who are away from home and quit my whining.

i find today a time for quiet, reflection, living with a few of the best memories. It appears my two daughters are both in a good place along with their families. That is the best Christmas gift for me. Most of my friends are still around, a blessing in itself considering our age.

Last night, i sat by the fire reflecting these things. i actually read the Matthew and Luke verses of the Bible relating the birth of Jesus. i have the bible my parents gave me when i was a pre-teen. It has my name, “Jim Rye Jewell, Jr.” engraved in gold on the front. But i chose to read from a smaller condensed version my mother gave to my father before he sailed for the Southwest Pacific and World War II. There is no engraved name on the front. But on the first page, a black extension of the cover, she wrote his name and address in white ink and on the following blank page wrote: “To my husband, Jimmy, with Love from Estelle.”

i’m choking up a little bit here. So, i will move on.

After reading Mother’s entries and as i read the passages, i thought of Maureen and i paralleling notes to each other showing the kind of love they had for each other. i kept thinking “love does conquer all.” i believe the man for whom this holiday was created and often forgotten in our celebrations would approvingly agree.

i hope all of you, even those of you in our country’s service who are away, have the best Christmas you can have with lots of love.

Merry Christmas.

P.S. The tree is green, not blue. i remain tech photo challenged.

Since i reneged on rearranging the lights on my sign, this Christmas post is essentially the same as posted last year with a few edits and comments in green font like this intro.

Christmas decorations are going up a bit early again.

We actually put ours up on the first day of the month this December. We were later than a number of homes around us.

It seems to me back home growing up, we cut down our tree on Wynn “Papa” Prichard’s farm about a week before the big day, decorated it that evening, hung the stockings, hung a wreath on the door, put some lights around the door, and took it all down the day after Christmas. In our neighborhood today, about one-quarter of the houses have blow-up dolls, reindeer statues, lights enough to provide electricity for a small city among other amusements. The decorations here went up a week ago and many will likely remain well after the New Year.

But i wanted to get it out of the way. And so begins the Christmas season. And with that, i offer my traditional repeat of a column i wrote for the Lebanon Democrat about a gazillion years ago. Merry Christmas with this year’s version of Noel:

Have you ever had one of those days when everything turned into an embarrassment? I had a champion day like that several years ago.

It started innocently while I hung our outdoor decoration, a home-made “NOEL” sign from the eave of our garage, hoping to get it up before my wife’s friends arrived for their Christmas dinner.

Maureen and her six friends have been meeting monthly for dinners for 15-plus years. They had this December dinner catered, did it up right. It was Maureen’s turn to be hostess.

It was dark when I began. I was at the top of my step ladder attaching the second of two wires from the sign to hooks secured to the eave when the ladder lurched and toppled. I grabbed a metal ornamental grating above the garage door.

There I hung, my arm intertwined with the “O” of the sign. If I tried to drop, the sign could catch my arm and do some pretty bad stuff.

I yelled, but Maureen had Christmas carols at top volume and didn’t hear. I tried to think of what to do while simultaneously wondering how long I could hold on. The dog wandered underneath, occasionally looking up as if I was a very strange person hanging there.

After several minutes, a neighbor’s son and friend pulled into the driveway several houses away. As they emerged, I swallowed my pride and yelled “Help.”

At first, they could not discern who was calling. Then they spotted me and came to help. The dog decided to protect me and began barking threateningly. The boys hesitated. I assured them the only danger was being licked to death. They finally righted the ladder and helped me down.

I thanked them profusely and then studied whether I should tell Maureen or not. Now that I was back on solid ground, I decided it was too funny not to tell her. She was incredulous and not particularly amused.

I did not realize my embarrassment for the night was just beginning.

While Maureen made final arrangements for her dinner, our daughter, Sarah, and I went to a local spot for supper. The little place was an oasis of sorts in Bonita, where there were only Mexican, Italian, and fast food restaurants. The attraction was different, having a wide-range of ales and beers for golfers finishing a round across the street.

When we arrived, two couples were at tables and three guys sat at the bar. As we neared the end of our meal, the largest of the guys at the bar walked to the door and then turned back. I noticed his eyes seemed glazed. Then he walked back to the bar.

Suddenly, this guy and the one on the other side grabbed the guy in the middle off his stool, slammed him into the wall and started pummeling him with their fists. The three male diners, me (instinctively) included, approached from one side and two cooks approached from the back. Sarah had retreated to the door with the two lady diners. I grabbed the big guy. He spun and fell backward, slamming us into our table, knocking it over with shattering glass. It gave me some leverage, and we spun to the floor with me on top and knocking the wind out of the big guy. The other two diners helped me hold him until he calmed down. The cooks had quelled the other assailant. The two left quietly.

Even though the waitress wanted us to not pay our bill, we paid and left for home. On the way, I talked to my daughter about what I should have done (directed her outside before joining the fray) and what she should do the next time if she were ever in a place where a fight broke out (get out and away and not come back until she was sure it was over). i admonished her not to spoil her mother’s dinner party, adding i would tell her mother after the guests had departed. Sarah nodded.

I was feeling pretty good as we arrived home. Then Sarah dashed out of the car, ran into the house and yelled to her mother in front of the caterer and her six friends dressed to the nines amidst fine china, Christmas decorations, and haut cuisine, “Mom, Dad got in a fight in a bar.”

Some days, I just can’t get a break.

May your holiday season be embarrassment free.

May all of you have a most wonderful and amazing Christmas Season, and “Please, Please, Please (as James Brown once sang) remember the reason for the season,