with snow
By Pam Linn
When my family decided to celebrate Christmas in Montana, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was relieved that someone else would be cooking, decorating and wrapping, but sad that part of the family couldn’t be there. At least we would have snow.
We’ve hosted Christmas Eve dinner for the past 11 years. We always hope for snow, but if it comes just at Christmas, the road up to our house can be a challenge. This year, my sister Cindy is visiting her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren in Martinique, where snow isn’t even a remote possibility for the French side of the family.
So two days before Christmas Eve I’m writing this column and watching very fine dry flakes drifting like sifted flour onto the frozen deck of my little hideaway in Big Sky. Ski operators in the Rockies are cheering. Everyone’s greeting the storm with glee. Except me. My family is still en route somewhere in Utah or Idaho, I think, where snow and ice are clogging roads. Not as bad as Colorado (I can’t even imagine camping out in the Denver airport for two days) but enough to make a mother worry. If they got away yesterday afternoon as planned and the roads were all clear, they should be here by now. I keep glancing at the clock. I don’t know whether to pray or meditate or just visualize them all arriving safely.
The phone rings and I leap to answer. Through the static I hear, not my kids, but another tech person from 3 Rivers Communications, who, after a week of futile efforts, has been unable to make my DSL work properly. I’ve spent three hours with a tech from Mac.com, who assured me the problem lies with 3 Rivers. After three hours with their tech and one hour with their business office, I was told to contact tech support for Linksys, the WiFi provider. Three more hours with a Linksys tech in India, who admitted he didn’t understand much about Mac computers, and I was back to square one. Summoning what little patience I can, I listen as Eric tells me I need to talk to the business office again. I tell him I’m on deadline and my kids may be stuck in a snow bank somewhere in Idaho, but I’ll call them back later.
My loving kindness, patience and compassion are waning. Relax, let it go, I tell myself, with less conviction than I wish I could muster. Then the phone rings again. It’s Susan. They’ve arrived safely at her sister’s house in Bozeman. They’re tired, the kids are a little cranky but jabbering excitedly with their cousin. The show was heavy from Pocatello to Dillon, but in the new Durango it wasn’t a problem. I take back all the vile things I ever said about SUVs and the misplaced machismo that prompts L.A. businessmen to drive Hummers to work every day on dry pavement.
The radio is tuned to NPR which is airing a segment on the damage holiday consumerism does to the environment. Carbon dioxide emissions from travel to distant places in airplanes and fuel hogging vehicles. This is compounded by buying food that’s been shipped thousands of miles, electronics and other gifts made in Asia and wrappings made from nonrecycled paper and metallic ribbons.
Well, this year the food’s not my gig. I’ve chosen practical gifts from local and ecologically responsible companies like Patagonia with minimal wrappings, reusable folding cardboard boxes with red ribbon and gift tags printed right on top. And I drove to Big Sky in my Saturn Ion at 33 mpg. Here, I walk to the Post Office and market every day unless I have something heavy to carry. I’m not feeling smug, you understand, but I’m just letting all that go.
Feelings of joy and good will are palpable in town even though the Bozeman City Council felt compelled to order the removal of three Christmas trees from the Post Office and delay the replacement of a Ten Commandments monument in a local park.
I still don’t get it. What are they arguing about? We’re celebrating the birth of Jesus, who preached loving kindness, compassion and caring for the poor. Others may celebrate Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, the winter solstice, whatever. After dinner Sunday, we may all go to midnight Mass where, each in our own way, we’ll give thanks for everything, including the snow.
Meanwhile, I will sit on my Buddha cushion and meditate until my patience level returns and I’m full of loving kindness. Then I’ll get back to Eric and, in the spirit of true cooperation, we’ll fix the DSL so I can e-mail this column. Hope your Christmas was Merry.