A cat by any other name; Oh deer me; We (Scrooge and I) come a wassailing

"Cats have it all - admiration, an endless sleep, and company only when they want it."

AUBURN, Maine — This holiday season the Blasi family made a momentous decision to change the cat’s name — or at least use several other aliases.

The resolution will affect the household for the coming year. We debated and debated — for five agonizing minutes — at the kitchen table over a bowl of hot punch. After all the haggling, we agreed to a new name for a cat that never ever stops talking.

We will be in court on Monday to make it official after we file papers with several lawyers. The cat will also be summoned by several aliases depending our our moods and how much this hairball bothers me when I am filing a damn story at the kitchen table.

My wonderful, beautiful wife named the cat “Cindy Lou Who,” the sweet kid from Whoville in “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.”  Every time I hear Grinch, I think of a nonsense-filled Washington, D.C. occupied by Li'l Abner and his hillbilly friends.

Terri has also called the Cat — Diva — which has several definitions, including “a self-important person who is temperamental and difficult to please.”

In this case, it is a cat and it owns our hearts — and she knows it. It screeches when it demands to be fed and wanders the house, bellowing “Hello.” It really does sound like that.

The cat, which we bought from an animal shelter the past March, is a drama queen — and we are convinced “Diva” is appropriate. She wakes us out of a sound sleep in the dead of night with her ear-piercing, unbearable screech. She is miserable until she has her morning, stinky food, much like I feel when I suck down my first of cup of coffee.

Diva never stops talking and screeching — and it can be intolerable until you give in and crack open another can of smelly cat food. This is a cat with a hair-trigger temper that will take a swipe at you when she’s having a moment— and there are many.

She’ll steel your chair because Diva is a rascal and an assassin, who knocked off several mice and screamed at the top of her lungs after she committed the bloody deeds.

And so Diva will be the cat’s name — along with several aliases.

To be honest, I don’t think the cat gives a damn so long as it eats — just like a Scrooge acquaintance — who wouldn’t attend “The Old Screw’s” funeral unless he was also fed.

Oh deer me!

I was hustling back from a University of Maine at Farmington men’s basketball game that I covered a couple of Friday’s ago in Farmington.

It was a dark and cold night, my friends. Everybody was at home enjoying their wood stoves while I kept my eyes on a lonely stretch of road in search of danger.

I had to file a story, because that’s what reporters do.

I raced around a hair-pin turn on a hill at about 50 mph on dangerous Route 4 in Livermore when a giant buck leaped in front of my Rondo Kia. 

I had a three-second window to decide if I wanted to live or die on a dimly-lit country road on a freezing Friday night.

I skidded, veered a bit to the right, hit the gas pedal and slammed in the deer’s ass. I hit it hard and it limped off into the woods. I drove off to call it in. I accelerated to lift the hood to prevent the deer from crashing through the window.

I heard the glass cover on the left-front headlight shatter after the impact, which could be heard for miles. I limped home with one headlight and a fear that there were other deer lurking on the side of road ready to pounce on other unsuspecting drivers.

I needed to file my story because that’s what reporters do.

I also needed a stiff drink because that’s what this reporter required after dodging the Grim Reaper.

The Old Screw warmed my heart

I have read just about everything that Charles Dickens published over his lifetime, but I never sat down with “A Christmas Carol.”

I’ve watched several movies called a “Christmas Carol” or “Scrooge.”

So I promised myself that I would read the Dickens’ story about angry old man — like Henry F. Potter — who despises the world and tries to make Bedford Falls a hellhole for young George Bailey.

There’s a real-life versions of Scrooge or Potter in our nation’s capital.

I was enthralled as Dickens took us through Ebenezer’s tumultuous life — with three diligent spirits who slapped around the miser along the way.

He certainly had it coming to him.

The short story is spectacular, especially the way Dickens reveals his characters through sharp dialogue. The book has certainly withstood the test of time, just like Philip Van Doren Stern’s short story, “The Greatest Gift,” which we all know as “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

Dickens and Van Doren Stern had it right when they penned two ageless stories about miserly, selfish old men whose only concern is themselves and the bottom line.

Sound familiar?

But “The Old Screw” figured it out in the end when he said: “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach!”

I leave you with Scrooge’s epiphany and bid you all a happy holiday.

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."

The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 6: The movies

"Christmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart." 

Washington Irving

AUBURN, Maine - The Christmas movies were pulled from the shelves in our home just after Thanksgiving. No need to wait for the classics to appear on television. You can usually find a copy of a holiday film for about $5 in any department store.

There are only handful of yuletide movies that make my cut. Sure, the Hallmark and Ion cable channels churn out holiday films by the dozen, but most are usually junk, and don't really measure up to timeless classics like "It's a Wonderful Life."

Here's how I have them ranked:

1. "It's a Wonderful Life" is at the top of the list. George Bailey is a quiet hero who goes through life helping the other guy out in the 1946 Frank Capra classic. It explains why George never had a future in congress. He was the Frank Serpico of his day and couldn't be bought by a greedy old bastard by the name of Henry F. Potter, "the richest and meanest man in Bedford Falls." I want to put the SOB in a full nelson every time I watch the movie

Potter was a son of bitch, but Bailey understood the greater good was more important than lining his wallet with money.

Bailey holds his town together, but when his life falls apart financially, he decides to commit suicide. But before he makes the leap into eternity, Clarence, the lovable angel wannabe, intervenes and persuades George to reconsider by reminding him of all the good he has done for the community.

The story is based on the "The Greatest Gift," a short story written by Philip Van Doren Stern in 1939 and published in 1945.

If your eyes do not well up with tears at the end of the movie, you have no soul.

2. "A Child's Tale of Christmas in Wales." If you have never seen this classic, then you live in a cave.

I showed this beautiful movie to a group of high school students. When my son was born, I ordered the movie from a book store. He was two when he first saw it, and now at 16 years old, he watches it with me every Christmas season.

It is a heart-warming tale of a grandfather regaling his excited grandson about his past Christmases as a boy in Wales on Christmas Eve.

It is gem, and the grandfathers' recollections reveal just what a talented writer Welsh writer Dylan Thomas really was.

3. "Miracle on 34th Street." Please purchase the 1947 black-and-white version starring Edmund Gwenn, Maureen O'Hara, and a young Natalie Wood.

You will start believing in Santa Claus again when Gwenn and attorney Fred Gailey make their case in court to convince the judge that Gwenn is the original Kris Kringle.

After two hours, you will be rooting for Kringle like you would for Patriots quarterback Tom Brady.

4. "A Christmas Story." Watching Ralphie go to any extreme to sway his parents to give him a Red Ryder B.B. gun for Christmas is delightful experience.

The film is partially based on Jean Shepherd's book, "In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash." The book was a collection of short stories written for "Playboy."

The writing is witty and crisp, and the humor and plot is excellent.

And Ralphie almost shoots his eye out.

5. "A Christmas Carol." There are a number of film versions of Charles Dickens' masterpiece.

I prefer these two: The 1984 version starring George C. Scott and the 1951 film named "Scrooge," starring the British actor Alastair Sim.

My father loved the 1938 version starring Gene and Kathleen Lockhart.

Dickens' short story stands the test of time, with his assault on greed and disdain for class warfare.

6. "Home Alone." Why a movie about a cute kid who takes on the two stooges after being left alone to fend for himself on Christmas?

There is one great scene that makes the entire movie a classic. Macaulay Culkin is sitting in a church when he is confronted by a neighbor, Marley, played by character actor Robert Blossom, whose reputation has been tarnished by damaging rumors.

A round of a dialogue between the Culkin and Blossom is heart wrenching and profound. Their interaction is worth sitting through the antics of Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern as they bumble their way during a home robbery.

7. "The Homecoming: A Christmas Story." If you are really seeking the true meaning of the Yuletide, then turn to "The Waltons" for the answer. This 1971 television production is a masterpiece, and anybody who lived through The Depression would appreciate the storyline. My mother was a survivor of the Depression and she loved this opening episode of the Waltons. We watched it every season until the networks stopped showing it.

Patricia Neal does a fine job of Olivia Walton, who waits for her husband to come home after a 50-mile trek back to Waltons' Mountain in Virginia.

I am sure there are other holiday movies out there, but I haven't found recent Christmas movies to top these classics.

That's why these seven holiday movies remain masterpieces.

It's beginning to look like insanity

Our tree, outdoor lights and Anthony and Terri make three.

“The best Christmas of all is the presence of a happy family all wrapped up with one another.”

- author unknown

AUBURN, Maine — The warning signs began appearing just before Halloween.

I didn't notice the first few clues of impending mayhem as I meandered around the aisles. But there they were there, right in front of my face.I figured all that madness was still a month and a half away.

When Halloween passed, that's when all hell broke loose!

Perhaps it was in the dead of night and under the cover of darkness when retailers gave the order to remove all Halloween decorations and replace them with trinkets of good cheer.

Thanksgiving was about to take a back seat to the craziest holiday of all — Christmas.

After all, Christmas was ONLY 55 days away, and there was not a moment to lose when battering consumers with good cheer. Thanks to greed, commercialism and capitalism run amok, the most wonderful time of year has become an orgy of spending.

For nearly 60 days, blatant reminders are in your face 24-7. It always begins with a just few aisles featuring Christmas decorations before all department stores reach Defcon 5, which is a level of commercial readiness that would keep the U.S. Marines on their toes. Stores go right to work ambushing customers with deals on toys, clothes and appliances.

Thanksgiving has become the gateway holiday to the most ludicrous day of all — Black Friday — a day that usually lives in infamy. Stuffed and groggy consumers rise early and venture into the night to shove aside or mace their fellow man to muscle their way in line to buy a flat-screen TV. Christmas cheer turns into jeers as herds of shoppers wait in the cold for the doors to open. They can act like lunatics during a shopping frenzy that would make any serial killer turn around and walk out the door.

The push-and-shove conflict erupts in departments stores across the U.S. and garners nationwide TV coverage. For me, it is one of those "who gives a damn" stories that dominates the news cycle for 24 hours. And it gives network cheerleaders an excuse to report that the nation has clawed its way out of this endless depression. Of course, we all know that is not true.

But all this shopping hijinks is a pleasant distraction from a planet in peril and the bunch of fools who screwed up Congress.

I avoid all stores at all costs on this particular day. I would be a no-show even if stores were giving away their products. The last thing I want to do after stuffing my face with turkey is get up at 3 a.m. and have a throw-down with ravenous consumers in the middle of a congested mall.

Black Friday is also TV's and radio's cue to begin working over consumers with 30 days of Christmas music and specials that make me want to take my chances with the Ghost of Christmas future. I search the radio dial in vain to find a rock-and-roll song. Eric Clapton's "I feel free" works for me.

But I do not subscribe to Scrooge's warped thinking. He was one SOB before three ghosts took the old man out for walk and scared the living crap out of him.

There is a beautiful tree taking up most of my parlor and outdoor Christmas lights illuminating cold winter nights. So I won't need a visit from Jacob Marley to convince me about the importance of this holiday.

For me, Christmas is a celebration of family and an opportunity share some time with those who are still here. All the hoopla surrounding this holiday is like the trimmings on a Christmas tree. For many Americans who are unemployed or lost loved ones, this is not the most wonderful time of year. There are empty seats at the dinner table, and many of us are celebrating the holiday with a skimpy dinner that Bob Cratchit would find impossible to enjoy.

All this good cheer and hope lasts a mere 30 days, and then we all jump back into the rat race. We quickly pack away decorations and throw out the tree, acting like nothing ever happened.

But I can't help wondering why we all can't keep this frame of mind throughout the year. Why only 30 days? How about making it a full 365 for the greater good? Why does all this goodwill toward men suddenly disappear?

Dickens had it right when he wrote: "and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!"

And oh by the way — Merry Christmas.