A Christmas Wish: Better Late Than Never

The Christmas season is a time of high expectations for most kids. They eagerly absorb the magic of the holiday and hold out hope that their wildest gift dreams will come true. Most of us can think of an extra-special Christmas present that awaited us underneath the tree on at least one occasion. I remember the feeling of seeing a brand new bicycle when I was six years old and thinking it had to be a dream.

Some wishes, though, seemed destined to remain a distant dream. Take, for example, the pony phase.

Virtually every little girl on earth goes through the pony phase.

“Mom, can I have a pony?”

“When do I get old enough for a pony?”

“You know what we need? A pony!”

And virtually every little girl on earth hears the standard responses.

“We don’t have room for a pony.”

“Ponies are expensive and they’re a lot of work.”

“You’re not old enough for a pony.”

During my pony phase, I heard them all. That wasn’t going to stop me from asking for one for Christmas, though. I knew I’d keep hearing the same answers, but a girl can dream, right?

So, I took my appeal to a higher power. I wrote a letter to the big guy himself.

Yes, I wrote a letter to the head honcho…the wish-granter…the red-suited miracle worker himself. The MAN.

SANTA CLAUS!

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I can’t be completely certain about this, but I don’t think my letter ever made it to the North Pole. And why would I think this? Well, because I still heard the standard pony responses from my parents and I just knew Santa wouldn’t ignore my request. After all, Santa Claus makes the magic happen, right? I mean, I was a believer! Santa was the MAN! I dutifully left out milk and cookies for him each and every year, and I continued to defend his very existence every time someone tried to make the schoolyard argument that he wasn’t…you know, real.

Well, the years began to go by faster and faster and I had a lot of great gift requests fulfilled (many by Mr. Claus himself, of course). However, my pony had still never materialized. In the end, I accepted it and decided it was probably a good thing. After all, that pony never would have fit in my dorm room in college or in any of the places I’ve lived since then.

A couple of years back, I started thinking about the gift that got away and realized that I still hadn’t heard from the big guy about it. (I still suspected a “clerical error,” and by “clerical error” I mean that a certain parent or two pulled a Ralphie-and-Mrs.-Shields-Style-What-I-Want-For-Christmas conspiracy.)

So, I revisited my thoughts of Christmas past…just because.

I never mailed this one. I just felt like writing it.

I had a little chuckle over it and went about my regularly-scheduled holiday season, which was chaotic, as usual. I went through that season and the next, and here we are in good ol’ 2017.

I’m a band director, and I’ve grown accustomed to spending many holidays with the band at Christmas parades. 2017 has been no exception.

Our first Christmas parade of the season turned out to be quite interesting.

We discovered that our position in the parade lineup was much farther back than we had ever been–next to last entry, as a matter of fact! This meant that we would be waiting (on the coldest day of the year) for a very long time. However, this also meant that we were directly in front of the holiday stars themselves…

Santa and Mrs. Claus.

I noticed their float down the block while I was attempting to keep my toes thawed. Very festive, very Christmas-y. About fifteen minutes before we marched off, their float pulled in behind us. After a minute or two, I heard it.

“MS. GARLAND!!!!”

I looked up, and Mrs. Claus was motioning to me.

(How do you like that? Mrs. Claus wanted to visit with me!)

We chatted for a few minutes (being old frien…umm, new acquaintances and all), and I was just about to return to my post when I brought up an old subject.

I told Mrs. Claus about my unfulfilled wish.

“Say, I asked for a pony sometime in the eighties and it never quite got to me.” Smile, wink.

Mrs. Claus just laughed, and we waved at one another and headed back to our places. Merry Christmas, nice seeing you, et cetera.

About two weeks later, I was in my classroom wrapping up some loose ends before the holiday break…when my phone rang.

The office.

“Ms. Garland, you have a package down here when you have the chance to come by.”

“Oh, okay,” I replied.

I haven’t ordered anything lately. Hmmm.

It was a Christmas gift. In a very large bag.

How festive! But what’s in it?

A card was attached. To protect the identity…err, conceal the handwriting, I’ll type out portions of the beautifully handwritten card:

When I spoke to you…my heart was broken that I had somehow missed your request some years ago…I went back to my archives (you should know that I keep every letter from every child!) and I couldn’t seem to find yours…I hope this fulfilled, late request brings some happiness to this year’s Christmas season!

Love, Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus

I opened the bag.

My own pony.

Finally!

Naturally, we’re making up for lots of lost time.

We just had to go shoe shopping together!
We’re great pals. We like the same kinds of movies and everything.
Who says the horse can’t stay inside?

Christmas wishes can and do come true, even if they’re sometimes a few decades late. Merry Christmas!

A Work In Progress: Ten Thousand Hours

Malcolm Gladwell is widely attributed to popularizing the so-called “10,000 Hour Rule.” (I’m a very big fan of his work; if you have the chance to read any of his books, I highly recommend them. He based the “10,000 Hour Rule” on a study by Anders Ericsson.) For those who are not familiar with the concept, the general idea is that mastery in any one particular field or discipline requires at least 10,000 hours of “deliberate practice.”

Of course, this “rule” is up for debate, as are many theories in the social sciences. Still, if I took it as an absolute rule, then it could get interesting for someone like me.

Why, you ask?

Well, as a self-proclaimed Meticulously Observant Observer, that title carries with it a (ridiculously impossible to fulfill) degree of perfectionism. Not only that, but I’m interested in lots of different subjects and activities. I don’t like doing anything halfway. I want to do things right.

I’m no math surgeon, but according to my (probably inaccurate) calculations, you obviously can’t achieve those hours in one year…unless you really can add hours to the day and you spend absolutely every waking hour devoted to one discipline. Not particularly practical.

I tried multitasking, but it wasn’t working for me.

Annnnnddddd…I’ve identified at least four disciplines that I pursue regularly outside of work.

If I want to be really serious about four of my specific pursuits, I figure I should start the mathematical breakdown with the disciplines I’ve been involved with the longest: writing and music.

Let’s start with writing.

According to my parents, I was able to read at the age of eighteen months. Writing followed soon thereafter. It was ugly, but it was writing. So, in factoring in my age and the number of hours I spent in classrooms throughout my formal education, I should probably be in good shape on that one.

However, was it all “deliberate practice?” Probably not. Passing notes to my classmates isn’t likely to fit the bill. Hitting every key on the typewriter just to see what it would look like on paper…nope. Besides, all writers know their work is never completely mastered, so this one is likely to be a lifelong pursuit without any kind of designated time frame.

So, moving on…

Let’s add music to the mix. I started playing the piano when I was five years old.

This was just a test run. I was still a couple of years away from my first lesson.

Once again, if I factor in my age, I should be well on my way. Not so fast, though. I didn’t just learn the piano, you see. I’ve spent some decades on the trumpet as well. And I had to learn other band instruments to a level of proficiency required to teach them in my current profession. Remembering that music is always a work in progress…yup, there’s another lifelong pursuit to add to the writing.

But wait…there’s more!

Say, I just happen to be selling this print in my Etsy shop! (Shameless plug? You bet. Marketing is also a work in progress, you know.) https://www.etsy.com/listing/557312440/landscape-photography-color-photography?ref=shop_home_feat_4

Photography. I started to get serious about photography about eight years ago. That would make it one of my later pursuits. Since I work, eat, sleep, write, and work on music as well…we’re starting to rack up some serious hours here.

Oh, and let’s not forget knitting. I really enjoy knitting. Another of my newer activities.

That makes four. Four disciplines, forty-thousand hours.

Assuming that I live at least as long as the average lifespan for an American woman, once I’ve totaled up all of these hours (carrying the one, multiplying by x, and accounting for sleep, laundry, work, channel surfing, reading, eating, proper grooming, staring into space, socializing, being placed on hold with the cable company, family obligations, waiting at the DMV, sitting at stoplights, travel, home maintenance, airport delays, the occasional illness, and other unforeseen circumstances), I think I can expect to be an expert on all four of these disciplines approximately thirty minutes after my funeral service is completed.

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What are some disciplines you would like to master, and how long would you think you’ve been working on them? Do you think that any of this kind of work is ever done? I think there’s always room for improvement, but that could just be my perfectionism speaking. In any event, I should probably be working on something…