Sea Over Bow: A Christmas Story
In the quiet, satisfied moments that come near the end of the family Christmas feast, Michael heaved a noisy sigh of pure contentment and took a long look around the table, his gaze lingering on where his son sat deep in earnest conversation with his cousin. "I remember when I caught the two of you plottin' and plannin' that mischief with the Fahey sisters," Michael drawled, delighted to see the flush of embarrassment rise up in both pairs of would-be-miscreant cheeks, even after the passage of so many years.
Inspired by his success, Michael plunged full steam ahead into sweet reminiscence - good and bad deeds both done and undone, hard times endured and good times celebrated, unforgettable episodes of lives shared with laughter and love, most of the memories centred around times spent with that now-nearly-full-grown son looking back at him with a grin so much like his own.
Joseph listened in silence as story followed story in quick succession, the tally of incidents and accidents, dismal failures and grand successes, that make up a tapestry of lives lived together. He glanced down at his idle, restless hands, then drew a deep breath and looked across the table at his own son, whose steady gaze met and matched his own troubled one.
Michael was still hugely entertaining his audience with tales from the past, from their past, stories they all knew every word of, which was why they never tired of hearing them, when Joseph decided it was high time to let the dog out for a bit. He slipped away from the table, nearly tripping over a jubilantly wagging tail, and let himself be led to the front door.
The dog rushed outside when the door was just barely cracked, dashing with heedless abandon out into the snowdrifts; Joseph opened the door all the way and stood there in the threshold, facing out into the bone-chilling beauty that lay spread out before his eyes - the glisten of starlight on snow, the crash of the sea on the cliffs, the twinkle of lights on a ship far out on horizon's edge.
Joseph felt the old, familiar ache in his heart as he bowed his head before such beauty. A knife-edge gust of wind cut through his open jacket and caused a sudden shiver, and then he felt a warm hand upon his shoulder, an unaccustomed hand. He turned and looked up into the serious eyes of his son, who kept his hand on his father's shoulder while speaking in a low voice. "Dad, every time you came home, I knew it was because home was where you most wanted to be. I understood there were other places you could have been, grand places you loved being, but every time you were here, I knew it was because you loved coming home - because you loved me - even more."
And then, louder, "Look at that fool dog, will you? Rompin' in the snow like a pup at his age. What in the world's gotten into him tonight?"
"It's Christmas, my son," Joseph answered, gratefully. "It's Christmas that's gotten into him tonight."
Father and son laughed together as the fool dog raced back inside and frantically shook off the accumulated snow onto the both of them. And then Joseph gently closed the door behind him and together they returned to welcoming warmth of the family feast.
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My Christmas Spirit ran a serious risk of being snuffed out yesterday, all because of what could have meant so much if just a few fleeting minutes had been a bit less thoughtless than they were. But it seems that Spirit is more resilient than first thought, which is good in that Christmas can carry on as previously planned, though perhaps less good in that it means all those plans still need to be completed. And since much of last night was lost to weeping and wailing, I'm even more behind with those plans than before. Along with still needing to get packed to fly home early Christmas Eve, of course...where more holiday plans impatiently await their completion. All of which is to say, "Holy shit, I am running out of time."
One of those previous plans was to write a Christmas story here as a gift, along with putting up some more videos that I'm bringing over from Megaupload. At the lowest point of last night, I told myself that this gift wasn't going to happen, that with everything else that had to get done, there was no way I had time to sort through videos and get them uploaded to YouTube, let alone find both the time and the willingness to come up with a story right off the top of my head. But I didn't believe myself even while I was saying it; I knew the time could be found - I know the willingness will always be there. Not even the smallest and least significant gift from the heart should go ungiven, especially not because of a few, fleeting minutes.
Though "smallest" and "least significant" are forever subjective determinations. While going through the videos, I came across the ones from the Lowell, Mass, show in the Summer of 2007; I was just talking to a friend a day or so ago about how great that show was and how much we both hope GBS will return to that venue. I don't have any videos at all of the show itself, but I have a whole pile of them from what has to be one of the best (and loveliest) soundchecks ever. This might be "only" soundcheck, but I thought it was wonderful, and here are two of my all-time favourite videos from that soundcheck.
First up, a beautifully bespectacled Alan Shines Right Through.
And then, best of all, a sweetly irresistible dose of Poison's Every Rose Has Its Thorn, fleeting delight from my forever favourite 14-year-old Rock Star.
Soundcheck completed, time for the main show. In honour of Great Big Sea's recently announced induction into the Newfoundland Business Hall Of Fame, here are two all-band videos, the first from the Orange Peel in Asheville, North Carolina, the trio version of the song GBS has chosen to best commemorate the life and times of the band itself; the second video is of one of their most impressive show-closing songs, this one from the Town Hall Theatre in New York City.
An utterly charming solo turn taken by Sean at the Nokia Theatre in New York City in 2008. First a bit of Talking Heads, next a brief fling with the Ramones, and then he settles in with Paul Simon's Feelin' Groovy. His unabashed pleasure in response to the crowd's willingness to sing along is what makes this moment such a delight. (Not quite sure why this uploaded with a High Definition option instead of just High Quality, but do click the little HD button on the lower right and watch it that way - it looks even lovelier.)
We've been struggling to determine the best timing for the shuffling of medical schedules and work commitments, all in the hopes of making a trip across the Pond possible this coming Spring, thoughts of which drew me straight to the videos from GBS's own last venture there.
First up, A sizzling hot Singalongs in London's steamy basement club, The Borderline, notable for a breathtaking Sweet Dreams from Alan, Sean's So You Think You Can Dance moves on a postage-stamp-sized stage, and what very well might be the best Bohemian Rhaposdy of them all, given the size of the crowd.
And this sweet Walk On The Moon, performed in the big tent at the Tonder Festival in Denmark.
Wrapping this gift up with an entirely different sort of closing number, this one from the Company Theatre Fundraiser in Toronto, Fall of 2006. Alan teams up with fellow Newfoundlanders Allan Hawco, Greg Hawco, Seamus O'Regan, Rex Goudie, Damhnait Doyle, Barry Canning, and Brian Byrne for a rousing version of The Big Bow Wow.
And finally, attaching the gift card. I can't think of any better opportunity for re-posting this no-longer-untimely bit from Wolftrap this past August.
Thus ends the gift-giving part of the program. Next up comes acknowledgement of gifts received. When I said on my comment response last entry that I'd leave comments open but not post them, I had no idea I would be so fortunate as to wind up with so many kind, generous, thought-provoking, and deeply appreciated messages, some from old and dear friends, some from brand new friends, and even a few from good-hearted total strangers (the latter of whom I most sincerely hope have now moved into the brand-new-friends category).
Comfort, cheering, consideration, chiding, commiseration...none of it was expected and I am very grateful for every single word, though, truth be told, also a bit shamefaced for making such a public fuss in the first place, same as always whenever that happens. My foolishness notwithstanding, those responses were the perfect gift, exactly what was most needed, and I thank you very sincerely. (And anytime anyone wants to make private comments here, all you have to do is let me know you do not want your remarks posted - your request will always be honoured.)
It's officially Christmas Eve here in Newfoundland, though blog time will deny it. It's far past time for packing for the morning flight home to commence. A very Happy Christmas to all, then, and a Hopeful New Year - again, to all, but wished most especially to my Much-Loved Grinch, whose heart really is exactly the perfect size...when it is trusted.
