Running With Flowers, Or How I Spent My Christmas Vacation

Oy vey.

That's what I have to say about my sprint through Chicago O'Hare the evening of Dec. 23, bridesmaid bouquet in hand, after sitting 40 mintues on the tarmac following an already-delayed flight home out of Montrose, Colorado.

Granted, the flowers garnered several comments from flight crew folk who were likely trying their darnedest to maintain the Christmas spirit despite harried passengers, overcrowded flights, and delays that reverberated for days after Denver's pre-Christmas blizzard shutdown. (No, I had not just married the man sitting in the seat next to me. No, I did not bring the flowers as a gift for the assistant pilot. But that's cool the flight attendant could smell them all the way up in the kitchen galley.) But, the bouquet didn't garner much sympathy when I was desperately trying to figure out if the "gatekeepers" were going to honor my boarding pass and let me catch the last flight home the night before Christmas Eve Day.

Lessons learned:
The days when the flight attendants would helpfully radio over to your connecting flight that you are on your way and would they please hold the plane for you are no more.
Even the pilots get (ticked) off when they have to sit 40 minutes on the tarmac waiting to get into the arrival gate.
Be sure to pack a good pair of boots if flying to a state where there's a good likelihood it will snow.
The every-other-day morning jog in high-altitude mountain air, though tiring, is good prep for the sprint from concourse to concourse trying to make the connecting flight.
When you see a "standby" sign flashing at your gate, after it appears the flight has left, and you've got a boarding pass, be assertive.

Oh, and the most important lesson of all: When flying to a friend's just-before-Christmas wedding, book early and plan to arrive as early as politely possible. You'll be glad later when you realize you've missed a major snowstorm by mere hours. Better that than to miss your friend's wedding, like the groom's best man, because you and your fellow passengers were first forced to land several states away from your destination in an airport your airline (United) doesn't service, told to return the next morning at 8 a.m. to await further instructions (and hopefully travel) only to be completely and utterly abandoned by the flight crew when the plane you arrived on takes off at noon -- without you or your fellow passengers on it, and with no instruction or assurances that your care has been transferred to the fine folks at the (fill in alternate) airline. No, I am not making that up. As relayed from the groom, that's what happened to his suprisingly-calm-under-the-circumstances best man. Did I mention there was not a rental car to be had at this particular airport?

Let's just make this point clear: Were I "on duty" as a reporter working anywhere near that particular airport in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and had heard of this story, I would have burned rubber getting over there to interview the passengers, get them on the front page or feature them as the lead broadcast and subsequently burn up the phone lines to United's administrative offices asking them what kind of INSANE policies EVER PERMIT ABANDONMENT OF PAYING CUSTOMERS!!! During the Christmas season, no less.

Did I say 'Oy vey' yet?

As it turned out, I continued coughing trying to catch my breath from the sprint to the gate, until about halfway through the flight home. I felt a little bad for the woman on standby who was first led to believe she had snagged a seat only to lose it again when I showed up "late." Ah, well, that sort of thing comes with "standby" territory, so I didn't feel too guilty for too long.
But at least I made it home for Christmas Eve Day (even though my luggage did not.)
My condolences to those of you who flew United.

That's the post-Christmas report from the ReD Zone.

How Can a Movie Mend a (School's) Broken Heart?

There are different ways to gauge how good a "based on a true story" film is.
My personal preference -- more like intuition, actually -- is how strong an urge I have to research the real story in news clippings, Internet postings, etc. etc. after I've seen the film. Blame it on the dayjob, I guess. (And yes, I was lucky enough to catch a sneak preview Thursday, along with my sports-loving father and brother.)

"We are Marshall" rolls its credits over news footage, clippings and photos of the real 1970 tragedy, and I had a hard time waiting to finish this posting so I could start Googling as much as I could on the university, the plane crash, and the names of some of the people the film introduces. I wonder which of those photos I'll see again online, and I'm especially curious how Sports Illustrated covered the team and its rebuilding efforts back then.

There's one scene in particular that is simple and yet sticks with me. Marshall's new football coach, Jake Langyel (Matthew McConaughey) and Red Dawson, (Matthew Fox of "Lost") the assistant coach who made a last-minute decision to give his seat on the plane to another man, are watching reels of West Virginia University game footage, hoping to glean everything they can from the team's rudimentary offensive strategy. It's the only offense simple enough their green-behind-the-ears players can master. They're watching the reels inside a darkened WVU film room, courtesy of the WVU coach, after a gutsy, here-goes-nothing pitch he initially laughed off. But the WVU coach's surprising hospitality starts making sense when two WVU players in uniform accidentally barge in. The WVU coach tries to divert them elsewhere a few moments later and when they turn to face him, Langyel and Dawson see an "MU" memorial sticker on the back of their helmets. Rather than avoid the elephant in the room, the WVU coach asks them if they think the colors on the helmet clash (MU's are green, WVU's are blue). Langyel, aware Dawson is too moved to respond, simply states they look "very classy."

To me, those sort of simple, straightforward sentiments keep "We Are Marshall" from becoming a Disneyfied sports weeper, which is not to say that some viewers won't cry watching it. (I'm just not one of them.) I especially salute Matthew Fox for finding the right touch as a man plagued with guilt and grief that he was the sole "surviving" coach. Back then, men weren't free to be Mr. Sensitive, so Fox had a very fine line to walk in order to keep his character's emotions in check, and I thought he walked that line with confidence. David Strathairn, too, is excellent as always. (See "Good Night, and Good Luck.") Strathairn plays the college president, Donald Dedmon, the man who had the depressing job of trying to hire a new head coach for a football program others thought would best be laid to rest with the majority of its team. The thanks Dedmon got for further pushing past his comfort zone by pestering the NCAA to grant Marshall exception so freshmen could play, was a pink slip from the college board.

On the drive home from the screening, other devastating, sports-centered tragedies came to mind, such as the 1961 plane crash that killed the U.S. Figure Skating team, coaches and parents en route to the World Championships in Prague. Or the 2001 auto accident that nearly wiped out the University of Wyoming men's cross-country team, when eight runners - eight! - were killed when their vehicle was struck head-on by a drunk driver. The Sports Illustrated article that ran after the Wyoming tragedy quoted surviving teammates who said runners process everything -- grief, stress, life -- by running. Similar statements have been made by athletes in other sports. Ekaterina Gordeeva, for example, laced up her skates and got back on the ice after her husband and pair-skating partner, Sergei Grikov, died. She didn't stay in the sport forever after; Red Dawson didn't stay with Marshall's football program either, we learn. But those broken hearts started mending, just a little bit, by getting back out there, even when survivors didn't feel completely "ready."

Something about the rhythm of life, and particularly of sports, asks us to keep it going. Serve, return. Pass, shoot. Throw, catch. Breathe, play. Chant, respond. "We are: ... Mar-shall"

Tasting Christmas: A Reprise

This must have been my lucky weekend or something, because not only was I able to taste-test some Williams-Sonoma Peppermint Bark, I also stumbled across
the Ltd. Ed. Hershey's Chocolate Mint Kisses! (You can find them at Target, 2 bags for $8.)

First, my take on the Williams-Sonoma Peppermint Bark: As reported, it is distinctively "chunkier" than the Ghiardelli, the peppermint morsels in particular. However, inside the tin, it comes more as several giant "slabs" of peppermint bark vs. Ghiardelli's individually-wrapped, thinner, finer-grade style selections. Which means, it's up to you, readers, to determine which bark truly has more bite. Do you want to control how much you'll get by putting your own hands around it and breaking
a "chunky hunk" off yourself, or would you rather someone else did the sizing and serving for you? See, even Peppermint Bark has personality.

Now, as for Target, and those Chocolate Mint Kisses, it was fun to find
a nearby shelf was also featuring a two-fer deal, only in that case, it was 2-for-$10 on the Ghiardelli Peppermint Bark sacks, which does beat Wegmans pricing, for those of you looking for the best deals as you go about Tasting Christmas this year.

I remind readers: Get these Christmas goodies while you still can!

Tasting Christmas

Ok, with the new-fallen snow, it is time to review all the Christmas treats I have been trying to stay far, far away from in the last month. (I am determined to knock one of my traditional New Year's resolutions off the list long before the crystal ball drops, and so far, so good.)

But just because I'm not going to indulge as much as I would have in the past, doesn't mean all three readers -- wait, are we possibly up to four yet? -- can't glean any tips from my experience. With that, and apologies to Anne Palumbo for meandering into "Daily Dish" territory, here's what I recommend digging into:

*Wegmans Market Cafe' Candy Cane Mocha. See if your barista will top it off with extra candy cane chips. Yum! A Plan B would be Starbucks Peppermint Mocha. Plan C would be to mix whatever hot cocoa concoction is in the cupboard with a mug of milk heated in the microwave, then add your own Starlight Mint candy drop or mini candy cane and stir like crazy so it starts to melt before you top it off with marshmallows or whip cream.

*Starbucks Cranberry Bliss Bar. I'm pretty sure I have the name right on this one, (it's the one topped with a sweet cream cheese kind of frosting) and if so, it's perfectly named. Bliss in a bite, baby. Or several. It's only available during the holidays. Eat some while you still can.

*Ghiardelli Limited Edition Peppermint Bark squares. Wegmans has them in the multi-square "sacks" (search near the bulk foods/seasonal section) or bars. Hallmark stores sell a pricier version in keepsake tins. I am told by a friend who sampled these that, "yes, they're pretty good, but NOTHING tops Williams-Sonoma's peppermint bark" given it's extra thickness and what sounds like candy cane chunks. Apparently it costs a pretty penny, and I've yet to try some, but I'll take her word for it. As far as this Ghiardelli though, I only bemoan the fact it's a Limited Edition product. I believe this one is my preferred "taste of Christmas" tantalizer this year. Ok, I'll wipe the drool off my keyboard and shut up about it now.

*Celestial Seasonings Candy Cane Lane Tea. Anyone sensing a peppermint theme here yet? What I love about this is that's it's actually green tea and it's actually decaf. Go figure. This could be your Christmas Comfort in a Cup. Enjoy! Find it at Wegmans (of course!)or let's hope, your other local grocers.

*Hershey's Milk Chocolate Kisses. Yes, an All-American standby makes my list. Actually, last year, I loved their special-edition Mint Chocolate Kisses in the green-silver checkerboard wrapper, but alas, I haven't seen them yet this year. But a simple chocolate kiss is still simply divine. And if you want something with a bit more forte to it, go for the Hershey's with Almonds Nuggets in the gold wrappers. I don't know what it is, but the almond rather overpows a tiny Kiss. In the Nuggets, however, the almond meets its match and you can sink your teeth into it.

*Fondue. Chocolate, cheese, no matter. But at our house, at least, Christmas Eve would not be Christmas Eve without fondue. Given the extra effort it generally takes to poke a stick into fruit, bread or other fare, dip it into the heated fondue of choice and get it into your mouth before you have to re-light the gosh-darn Sterno lighter underneath (another weird happening at our house), it is not an understatement to advise you to enjoy every single bite.

*Angel Food Cake topped with raspberries and/or strawberries and (Whip) Cream. Why is this on the list? Well, at our house, birthdays are traditionally celebrated with a cake (although on my birthday, "cake" is translated "raspberry pie.") Anyway, if Christmas is supposed to represent the birth of Jesus, well then, what kind of cake would befit a baby from heaven? Angel Food, of course! This works so well, because after pigging out on candy from the stockings, homemade cinnamon rolls at breakfast, a heavy mid-day feast, etc. dessert really should be a little on the lighter side. And the fruit helps with that, as does the whip cream. Under no circumstances should Angel Food Cake be eaten with ice cream, or you'll lose the "light" effect!

*One navel orange. Preferrably chilled, before being placed in the toe of your Christmas stocking once the house is up on Christmas morning. Why? Well, that stocking needs something round to fill out the toe. Plus, there ought to be something in there to balance out all that candy and provide some nutritional value. On top of which, probably the family bought one of those giant boxes of fruit from Florida as part of the local schoolkids' fundraiser and somehow, it's got to be eaten in a timely fashion. A good ole orange in the stocking, multiplied by X number of stockings per household, and that box of fruit will be polished off in half the time.

So there you have it: how Christmas should taste if you're going to spend it in the ReD Zone.
Save me a piece of peppermint bark, will ya?

Stranger Than Fiction

No, this is not a posting about the Will Farrell movie, although, yes, I did recently see it, and yes, I enjoyed it.

Actually, that old saying, "The truth is stranger than fiction" is what popped into my head in a sort of Deep Thought Moment after seeing "The Nativity Story," the new live-action film that follows much of the Biblical Christmas story, complete with a jealous King Herod, the Virgin Mary, the shepherds and their sheep and (What Many Have Always Assumed To Be) The Three Magi.

I think what most struck me about the film was the reminder how very human these folks were, that they had to toil in a poverty-stricken existence where, nevertheless, some serious social stigmas prevailed. Oddly, or perhaps naturally, given my current career as a journalist, I pictured news headlines for what could have been the Nazareth Enquirer, had such a thing existed back then. "Nazareth leaders aghast at girl's 'miraculous conception' claim" "Family divulges fears"
"Mute priest finally speaks after year of silence" and "Sages seeking celestial sign."

The story gets repeated a lot, yes. Yet somehow, it seems I haven't clued in to the fact that, for that day and age, all the things I just take in stride -- immaculate conception, a herald angel choir singing to sheep herders, Away in a Manger, etc. -- must have been unfathomably shocking. And that's just for those who experienced them! How much harder would it be for the cynical to tolerate, let alone accept or attempt to understand all the impossible things they heard?

I'll be honest: six years in journalism have jaded me far more than I would have thought possible. So it's easy for me to picture the would-be staffers at the Nazareth Enquirer rolling their eyes and muttering "yeah, right" had they been sent out on assignment to cover a young, unwed mother giving gut-wrenching birth in some gosh-I-hope-that's-sanitary straw five feet away from smelly, noisy animals. Can't you just hear the reporter muttering under their breath? "Virgin birth? Um, yeah, is that what kids are calling it these days?"

I mean, what could possibly EVER convince them to put any kind of stock in the stories of some sleep-deprived shepherds whose solitary line of work would generate letters to the editor that begin with: "It was so sad to read about the poor, confused man who thought he saw a mass choir of angels singing in the hills outside Bethlehem the other night. It was even sadder to read of the fellow shepherds that encouraged him in the delusion. Why can't the good people of this community build a center where these vagrants can receive the medication and rest they so clearly need?"

See? A cynical response is so much easier. It takes less effort to dismiss the whole thing, to shun the pregnant teenager, to send the shepherds off for a nap, to assume the astronomers from the Orient got their signs crossed, than to consider that the truth might really be stranger than the wildest fiction you ever thought you'd hear.

It's a lot harder to dismiss though, when the filmmakers are inviting you to see people as human beings and not just characters in a story, no matter how familiar.