Sometimes, it is the most difficult time of the year

Christmas is a time when you get homesick — even when you're home.                   

                                                                                                                                    — Carol Nelson

Christmas is a necessity. There has to be at least one day of the year to remind us that we're here for something else besides ourselves.  

                                                                                                                                  — Eric Sevaride

When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things — not the great occasions - give off the greatest glow of happiness.          

                                                                                                                                          — Bob Hope

AUBURN, Maine — I won't bother taking a head count at the dinner table this Christmas. Many of my loved ones are now a long string of fond memories and images bundled together and sealed in dozens books of photographs in our bedroom. 

There are piles of pictures of aunts and uncles, grandparents and friends mugging for the camera at barbecues or at holiday dinners. There are old and recent movies of them at the beach, pool or playing cards at our grandpa's home.

And all those Christmas cards have dried up. Relatives aren't around to send those thoughtful cards in the mail. That's what happens when you sneak past the high-water mark at 50 years old.

This is the most difficult time of the calendar when it  comes to missing all those familiar faces who gave us love and hope throughout the years. We feel pressured to celebrate a Martha Stewart holiday — where the hoity-toity fold their napkins a certain way and take hours arranging a perfect dinner table or preparing a meal that costs a small fortune. We are pelted with jewelry advertisements where a man dressed in a George Armani suit springs a diamond worth the entire budget of a third-world nation on his trophy wife.

Commercialism falls on us like a tree in each December. We watch people kill each other on Black Friday over a free DVD player. Next to war, this chaotic shopping day is one of humanity's aberrations in a season where we are supposed to reach out to our fellow man instead reaching for another shopper's neck.

I can see why some of us turn to the Dark Side like happy-go-lucky Darth Vader and go around pissing off loved ones with our Scrooge-like attitudes. I won't take that sinister to approach to Christmas, which for me, is a holiday that celebrates family — or what is left of my tribe. If I choose to become a prisoner of my past, I will miss all the those wonderful moments with my wife and son.

In some ways, Christmas is giant signpost on the side of a highway, refreshing our memory that we made it through the end of the year — intact.

There are numerous reasons why I put up a freshly-cut tree in the parlor and clutter the rest of our house with sentimental ornaments, which become more precious and priceless as time passes. There is the Dunkin Donuts coffee ornament, a cherish home-made decoration our son,  and the "Our First Christmas Together" that all hang with care on our well-lit tree. And when one breaks, I lament and move on because it is a thing, but the loss of relative or parent leaves a permanent hole in my heart.

It can be a cruel world, and death is a cruel hoax played on all of us at some point in our lives. But I have witnessed so many remarkable and loving moments from my family, teachers and students in my son's school. I cheer when a student, who has given up on himself, turn his life around on a dime and eventually go on to conquer the world.

Heartbreak and depression rises exponentially during the yuletide. I witness my father's memory disappear as Alzheimer's syphons off his precious recollections. I am helpless and it is hopeless to watch a good man's life dwindle away. I want to take Alzheimer's out for walk just like Michael did to Sal Tessio in the Godfather. Alzheimer's is a diabolical disease that not only destroys the brain but also emotionally scars entire families.

But this is also the season of hope. There are many remarkable people doing wonderful things for the greater good in December.

I still don't understand why it takes a holiday to bring out the best in most of us when we should ALL be helping out our fellow men year-round. One day of benevolence make any of us  Do-gooders of the Year. But if it takes a holiday to remind the human race to get off its ass, pick up a shovel, and dig in to make the world a more palatable place to live, what the hell, I am all for it.

Just remember this on Christmas Eve. When you are sitting at the dinner table with a family member as the turkey and corn come your, keep in mind the he or she might not be present next year. Nobody has lock on longevity and time has the final say in matters of life in death. Only time will tell.

So pull out that annoying camera, snap  a few hundred pictures, treasure every precious moment you spend with your family on this Christmas day.

When Dr. Seuss penned "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas," he had it right when he wrote, "Christmas Day will always be, Just as long as we have we."

A union of devotion

A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.

Mignon McLaughlin 

AUBURN, Maine — What is so perfect about our marriage is perfection does not exist.

After 23 years of being together, we want no part of being labeled the perfect couple. It is a reputation nearly impossible to live up to in any lifetime.

Today is March 24th — our anniversary and a another milestone for us.

Talk about a relationship that has seen its peaks and valleys. Our partnership has been a roller coaster of raw emotion tempered by a great deal of love and respect for each other.

We are fast approaching the quarter century mark of a union that somehow continues to endure. We don't take our commitment for granted because we both understand our marriage demands a lot of blood, sweat and tears to prevent it from dissolving like remnants of a March snowstorm slowly disappearing in the spring sun.

We've been through adversity in our lifetimes, but we are damn lucky to weather these sad moments together and not have to survive those cold nights without any sort of companionship

Throw in a wonderful son, and well, we are living the life even though we walk on the edge of a tight budget. But that could said of most married couples who are raising children as mom and dad struggle with their finances.

That's what good parents do when it comes to raising  a child — the most important job on this planet.

This has been a warm relationship sprinkled with moments of loud disagreements. I would be lying if I said every confrontation ends with a peck on the cheek. And there are days when I am Darth Vader and she is Obi-Won Kenobi, and out come the light sabers at the dinner table.

But as a couple, we find common ground and amicably settle our disagreements with no hard feelings. Both parties are left standing and leave the battlefield with their honor intact.

Marriage isn't easy. Someone once said marriage is where two people come together to unload their baggage. I think that is true and necessary to keep a union from unraveling from outside forces that often test a strong partnership.

Look, whenever I walk through the door and holler, "Honey, I am home," don't look for Terri to run to door and greet me with a loving embrace. She is no Scarlet O'Hara and I am no Rhett Butler.

And frankly I don't give a damn if we don't act like the two main characters in "Gone with the Wind."

At the end my day, I often hear: "Hey, you got some dishes to do. We need to do wash. Anthony has a doctor's appointment Someone has got to wash the floor. I need money to pay this bill."

The cat sometimes get more attention than me, and Tabby doesn't even cook or do dishes.

But I am relieved that Terri hasn't decided to trade me in for a younger model with washboard abs and dark, brown hair.

I don't know what the universe has in store for us the next 23 years. But I still see stars when I see my wife at the end of the day.