Christmas Memories of Hans Gruber

During the holiday, I was able to watch one of my favorite Christmas movies from younger days.  Die Hard. Of course, it was the edited for TV version, but it does seem that Spike TV editors had a bit too much eggnog.

Oddly enough, Die Hard does not come up on as many Christmas movie lists as say,  "It's a Wonderful Life", but it screams Christmas.
Sometimes in German.

As the CHRISTMAS EVE partygoers at the Nakatomi building were celebrating, John McLane was desperately trying to reunite with his estranged wife HOLLY. He even brought a giant stuffed bear as a gift for one of his children. The orchestra even plays one of my favorites "Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring".  Not to be out-done, one of the dead terrorists has HO-HO-HO written on his shirt - in blood, with a Santa hat.  The movie is chock full of Christmas.

Hans Gruber, the villain, gives a touching speech about needing a Christmas Miracle, and if you listen very closely during that dialogue, Hans sounds exactly like Dieter Uchtdorf.  It is uncanny.  I even rewound the scene, made my EC (Eternal Companion) cover her eyes and listen again. She agreed, and now we will have a harder time knowing just when to trust Severus Snape.

Along with my wishes for a happy new year, I leave you with one last Christmas thought: Didn't Hans Gruber write "Silent Night?"

Thought for the day...

Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me, either. Just leave me alone.

Santa Spoiler.... Proceed with caution!

Brace yourselves:  So, it turns out that Santa DID NOT ACTUALLY VISIT the person who wrote the masterwork "Santa Says, 'Teach the Children.'" It never happened - it is fiction.  I know, I know - tough to accept. Even though it was taught over the pulpit in Sacrament meeting yesterday, it was NOT a real visitation, nor a vision.

With the aid of the inter-web, I was able to find that the peice was written by "Unknown Author".
Thank you, Snopes!  Here is the link to the actual piece: http://www.motivateus.com/stories/santa-s.htm

Apparently, Mr. Author claims to have had a visit from Santa - an entire week before Christmas - riiiiight.  Instead of just following his normal Santa-pattern of speaking not a word, but going straight to his work, a tearful Santa confronted his observer with a manipulative sermon about how Unknown had an "all-caps" obligation to TEACH THE CHILDREN!  He then went on to justify his existence by making up the most absurd religious symbolism for most every Christmas decoration. Holly leaves, wreaths, candles, even Santa Himself apparently represent the birth of the Savior in one strained way or another. Personally, I am relieved to know that when I eat a candycane, there is no transubstantiation involved.

I do need to be clear about one thing: This in no way diminishes my personal belief that fruitcake represents the Gathering of Israel.

Once a ritard...

I find it oddly comforting that a group of men, consisting of successful businessmen, former Bishops, current members of Stake Presidencies, past and former High Council members, can all look at each other and grin like schoolboys when the choir director informs them that "there is a ritard at the end of the line."

Strange Things are Afoot at the Circle K

I paid my ritualistic afternoon visit to the nearest convenience store, and left disconcerted.  The line was several people deep, and took far longer than it should have.  As it turns out, one Senior Citizen was spending her hard-earned retirement money on an assortment of lottery tickets, as a much younger man was deciding which pornography would best accompany his Jack Daniels.  An angry woman behind them stewed as she waited to buy her coffee and cigarettes.

Every single person ahead of me was saddled with one addiction or another.  None of them were in control of their own beings. I felt sorry for them as I reflected on their sad state, and said a silent prayer for them as I waited my turn.

I plunked down my dollar bill for my 44oz Diet Coke and left -  grateful that soda is not mentioned in the General Handbook of Instruction.

Soup and Secret Agency

I went to our Ward Christmas party last night. No ham, no funeral potatoes - and yet the moon did not turn to blood. (Lots of different soups.  I settled for one that smelled like Bear Creek - seemed wise.)

Lovely program with our "wardees" performing Christmas music. All beautifully executed - with one exception.  Children under the age of 16 should never be allowed to perform on the violin in public unless a grueling audition process, and 6 month waiting period, has taken place. It never ceases to amaze me that it takes three people 20 minutes to tune the thing - and they still can't get it right.  Anyway...I DIGRESS.

So, as I am enjoying most of the program, the two-year-old twins of a twenty-something couple seating next to us are engaging in "Toddler WWE" on the floor in front of my family.  I believe that in order to win, one competitor must sit on the head of the other, effectively mashing the bulging diaper onto the face of the sibling. Good times.

I peek over at the parents, who catch my glance and look over at me with pride beaming from their faces.  It was as if they were witnessing the actual birth of the Christ child, in duplicate. I am sure that their love of the eternal gift of agency made it impossible to lovingly hold their cherubs on their laps for an entire 30 minutes.  Obviously they have a much deeper understanding of agency than we old-timers.  Or, perhaps, they know a secret about agency that has only been shared with the next generation of parents.  Until I am brought into that circle of understanding, I'll just call it "Secret Agency."