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Tete-a-tete: As American as apple pie: U.S. culture, through other eyes

It’s quite an intriguing experience to see your own culture through the eyes of another culture, and I believe this is especially true for those of us who are from the United States. I’m not referring to encountering stereotypes while traveling abroad about how Americans look or behave but rather to coming across a physical representation of American culture created by people who are not part of that culture.

I had such an adventure while vacationing at a resort in the Dominican Republic with Mom and 16-year-old Younger Sister, who insisted on going someplace where there were palm trees. One of the draws of this particular resort was that many of its restaurants were centered around different types of cuisine: Italian, French, Dominican, Mexican, Mediterranean, Thai, and … American?

Our curiosity was piqued. Since the United States is a very diverse country ethnically and geographically, it was difficult for me to envision dishes ubiquitous enough to characterize the cuisine of our entire nation. I tend to think in terms of regional specialties – clam chowder in New England, beef dishes in the Midwest, collard greens and cornbread in the South. You also have the myriad ethnic cuisines that have become part of America’s food culture.

With so many factors at play, how can any one restaurant (and any reasonably-sized kitchen staff, for that matter) encapsulate American cuisine? Such a feat is nigh well impossible.

It turns out, however, that there are enough distinctly American restaurant traits – as well as distinctly American foods – that you can indeed create an “American” restaurant.

The first thing we noticed upon walking into the “American Grill” was the booths. All of the resort’s other restaurants and various buffets and snack bars only had tables and chairs. The waiters elsewhere in the resort wore polo shirts or white dress shirts with ties, but here, they had short-sleeved, cowboy-style plaid shirts and plaid baseball caps.

We couldn’t help laughing. We’re so accustomed to restaurants with booths and waiters with snazzy uniforms that it never occurred to us to think of these as “American” traits. Seeing them in the context of a theme restaurant in a foreign country, however, we had to admit they’d hit the nail on the head.

Instead of placing a roll on each individual bread plate like in the other restaurants, our waiter brought over a loaf of bread in a basket and set it in the middle of our table – yet another common aspect of chain restaurants in the United States, but one that we hadn’t considered as such until we experienced it in this context.

“Can we ask for more bread?” Younger Sister inquired while buttering up a slice. “Because that’s American, too.”

We gave it a try, and to our delight, the waiter obliged. Excited by the joy of discovery, we put our bread consumption on hold to visit the “salad bar” and see what obvious yet surprising foods it might hold.

It turned out to be quite the assortment – onion rings, loaded potato wedges, tomato soup, Caesar salad, bleu cheese dressing, chicken wings, chicken nuggets and chicken noodle soup, just to name a few. I hadn’t realized that we Americans have such a taste for chicken. Entrees on the menu included chicken fingers (of course), baby-back ribs with a Hawaiian marinade, and a hamburger that quite literally turned out to be the size of my face.

I had previously been aware that large portion sizes are considered an American thing, but I had never seen it interpreted quite this way. In the United States, restaurants tend to increase a hamburger’s size by building up. They stack on additional patties, toppings, even layers of bread. This was the first time I had encountered a hamburger made bigger by dramatically increasing the circumference of the bun and the patty. I almost needed a third hand to lift it.

True to its American style, the restaurant had bottles of ketchup and A1 steak sauce out on the tables, which we hadn’t seen anywhere else at the resort. Our table was sadly ketchup-less, so we did the American thing and borrowed a bottle from a nearby empty table.

The dessert menu was another treasure trove of obvious surprises. There was apple pie (naturally), strawberry cheesecake and a brownie a la mode, among other offerings. There were some subtle differences in flavor and presentation between these versions and what you’d expect at a restaurant in the United States, but they were certainly tasty and recognizable.

And last, but definitely not least, one of our fellow diners happened to be celebrating their birthday. All the available waiters and kitchen staff came out with musical instruments and sang “Happy Birthday to You” in English and Spanish. They were very enthusiastic about performing (we could hear them practicing in the kitchen), and the song continued for a good ten minutes, with everyone else in the restaurant clapping and singing along. I can say with certainty that we did not encounter this in any of the other restaurants.

The concept of culture in the United States is a fascinating one. Just as many cultures from all over the world have contributed their influences and ingenuity to American cuisine, various aspects of the United States’ non-food culture – like blue jeans and baseball – have become integral parts of other cultures. Due to this combination of assimilation and dissemination, it’s difficult to point to any one cultural element as solely and distinctively “American.” At least, that’s the way it looks to me as someone who was born and raised in this culture.

To those who were not, however, the distinctions are clear and involve comfortable restaurant seating, bottomless bread baskets, a salad bar, burgers and chicken and the birthday song. Those are distinctions I can certainly embrace.

– Teresa Santoski

Originally published June 4, 2015

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Tete-a-tete: The geek gene runs strong in our family

Teenagers say the most mind-boggling things sometimes. Younger Sister, who is now 16, and Youngest Brother, now 17, often amaze me with their tendency to view themselves outside of the family context. They seem to take it for granted that their interests are unique unto them and have no precedence whatsoever within our family.

For example, when we were visiting our grandfather a few weeks ago, I took Youngest Brother to a comic book and gaming store I found tucked away in the downtown. Youngest Brother and his friends are big into Magic: The Gathering, a strategic fantasy game played using special cards, and I saw that the store mostly sold cards and decks for this game.

Youngest Brother spent a happy half-hour or so going through cards in the dark and dusty store and chatting with the owner. As we left, he thanked me for bringing it to his attention.

“I appreciate you coming with me,” he said, “especially since I know it’s not really your kind of place.”

Dear, sweet Youngest Brother. Where do you think you get your affinity for geeky pastimes?

Oldest Younger Brother and I developed a love for comic books – and a tendency to embrace what were once likewise considered geeky activities, like video games and anime (Japanese animation) – at very tender ages. This is due in no small part to the fact that comic books were a huge part of Dad’s own childhood.

Dad grew up in a coal mining town in Pennsylvania where the rats in some of the abandoned mines were getting a little out of control. To encourage the residents to remedy this issue, a five-cent bounty was offered for every rat tail brought down to City Hall. Dad and his friends would shoot the rats with their BB guns, bring the tails to City Hall to collect the bounty and then spend that money on comic books and candy.

Thanks to Dad’s crack shooting skills, Oldest Younger Brother and I grew up reading a lot of these comics. Amongst the expected superhero comics were titles that really appealed to me, like Richie Rich, Archie, and old “Mad” comic books and magazines. Since most of these comics were from the 1960s and ‘70s, Oldest Younger Brother and I were the only kids in our elementary school who knew what a “happening” was.

Both of us eventually expanded into our own areas of interest. Oldest Younger Brother voraciously read the various X-Men and Disney series (all of which I regularly borrowed), and I loaded up on “Animaniacs” (based on the cartoon show of the same name) and New Kids on the Block. That’s right – the popular boy band from the 1980s and ‘90s had its own comic book series, and it was awesome.

I also discovered the newly reissued EC Comics, including “Tales from the Crypt,” “The Haunt of Fear,” “The Vault of Horror” and “Weird Science.” Episodes of “The Twilight Zone” were just being released on videotape at that time, and I loved how the stories in the different series under EC Comics embraced that same ironic and thought-provoking reversal of audience expectations.

As you may imagine, Dad, Oldest Younger Brother and I are all quite comfortable in comic and gaming stores, even the dustiest and most dimly-lit ones. Over the years, I’ve spent many happy hours in these flea market-esque environments, combing boxes and bins for issues I didn’t have, pondering the purchase of collectible figurines and admiring the artwork and sparkly dice that accompanied the various card and tabletop games.

Unlike Youngest Brother, I’ve never developed a long-term interest in gaming. I played video games growing up – I still think that the Moon Theme from the “DuckTales” game for Nintendo is one of the greatest songs ever written – as well as computer games like “Myst” and “The 7th Guest,” but my enthusiasm for comics and, eventually, manga (Japanese comics) and anime proved stronger. That may explain why Youngest Brother’s interest in video, computer and card gaming is so strong: he ended up with my share.

Sometimes you do things for a family member because you love them, like taking your daughter shopping for a prom dress when you have no idea what the difference is between a drop waist and an empire waist or going to a football game with your brother when your favorite thing about the sport is being able to stand up and yell for a bag of peanuts.

Other times, you do things with a family member because you both enjoy doing them. I was pleased as punch to dig through the back issues while Youngest Brother hunted for cards for his Commander deck.

So teenagers, before you start believing you’re all alone in your interests, talk to your family – there’s a good chance you inherited those interests from someone. Then you can bond over shared excursions, information and experiences. They might even help you find some cool stuff you didn’t even know existed, like a small comic book and gaming store in a corner of the downtown.

– Teresa Santoski

Originally published May 7, 2015

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Six straightforward steps for surviving a K-pop performer’s mandatory military service

It’s something every fan of Korean pop music will have to deal with at least once in their life: the mandatory military service of a favorite performer. South Korea requires that all Korean-born men serve in the military full-time for a certain period of time. Men have from age 20 to age 30 to complete their service and the length of service depends on the branch of the military in which they serve. At this time, service requirements are 21 months for the Army and the Marines, 23 months for the Navy, and 24 months for the Air Force. For more information on South Korea’s mandatory military service, click here and here.

What’s a fan to do in circumstances like these? This is a long time to go without updates, events, or new projects from a favorite performer. The performer is also in a potentially dangerous environment, which can be worrying for a fan. How does a fan take care of himself or herself during this difficult time and also continue to support the absent performer? Continue reading

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Tete-a-tete: Grieving entertainment losses with a few simple steps

Thanks to the lightning-fast capabilities of social media, news travels quickly these days and becomes outdated even more quickly. Our minds and hearts, however, haven’t kept pace with the digital revolution. The human psyche is still pretty analog, and we need time to process and grieve distressing and confusing events.

I’m talking, of course, about Zayn’s departure from One Direction.

Unless you happen to be a teenage girl (or the parent of one), a boy band member’s decision to leave his globally-known group at the peak of its fame may not seem all that devastating – that is, until you put it in perspective. Many of us have found ourselves grieving in comparable situations.

For example, depending on your age and your entertainment preferences, how did you feel when the Beatles broke up? How about when Diane left the TV sitcom “Cheers” or when “M*A*S*H” or “Seinfeld” aired their final episodes? Did the deaths of individuals like Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, Jerry Garcia or Whitney Houston shake up your world?

Entertainment has a significant impact on our lives, and it’s not hard to see why. The right song, the right movie or TV show can show us we’re not alone in our experiences and how we see the world. Likewise, entertainment can also serve as a form of escapism, a way to take a break from reality when life gets difficult. Who hasn’t blasted something like the Ramones’ “The Job That Ate My Brain” after a rough day at the office or sobbed their way through “Pretty in Pink” or “Sleepless in Seattle” after a romantic disappointment?

But what do you do when your escape succumbs to the inevitability of change due to performers or characters dying or otherwise departing? How do you not only cope, but heal and move on?

When I wrote “Prayers for Oppa,” my devotional prayer book for performers and their fans, I never imagined I’d become an expert on what I’ve since dubbed “fan crisis management.” But that’s pretty much what has happened.

My personal area of interest is East Asian entertainment, particularly Korean pop music, or K-pop. 2014 was a year of near-constant crisis for the K-pop industry, including a car crash that killed two members of the girl group Ladies’ Code and injured the other three, a number of performers suing their agencies for abuse and mistreatment, and numerous groups losing members or disbanding entirely. Factor in the Sewol Ferry tragedy – in which nearly 300 people drowned, including more than 200 students on a high school trip – and 2014 was an extremely difficult year for South Korea and those who appreciate the country’s pop culture.

As a result of having dealt with and guided others through so many entertainment-related tragedies in such a small span of time, I’ve come up with the following list of tried and true steps for fan recovery.

Recognize that you have a reason to feel upset.

It’s not “just a band” or “only a TV show.” These are more than performers or characters – they’re role models, friends, even family. They say what’s on your mind better than you ever could, or cheer you up when you’re feeling down. It’s a difficult loss, and it’s OK to acknowledge that.

Express your grief in healthy ways.

Talk to other fans or a trusted friend or relative about what you’re feeling. Listen to that band’s songs or re-watch that TV series and have a good cry. A glass of wine or an ice cream sundae can be a nice pick-me-up, but be careful not to self-medicate with food, alcohol or drugs. Give yourself some time to process and gain perspective before you post on social media.

Pray.

Ephesians 6:18 tells us to pray “on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.” In my book (quite literally, as this is the foundational verse of “Prayers for Oppa”), that includes everything from boy band breakups to the end of “Friends.”

Talk to God about what you’re feeling. Express your anger, your disappointment, your sadness – He can handle it. Then, pray for the performers who are involved in the event that has upset you. If someone has left, pray for the person who has left and for those who remain, for their health and well being and for God to guide them as they move forward in their careers. If someone has died, pray for the people he or she has left behind, that God would comfort and heal them.

I really can’t overemphasize the importance of prayer in this process. It brings us comfort and a sense of security and control in the midst of uncertain circumstances, for it reminds us that God is ultimately in charge of the situation and that He will take care of us and the performers in accordance with His will and purposes.

Focus on the positive.

If it’s currently too painful, feel free to take a break from the TV series, music, etc. Otherwise, continue to enjoy it, as well as to treasure the memories you have because of it. Maybe you and your mother bonded over a shared love of “Cheers.” Perhaps one of the happiest outings you’ve had with your father was when he took you to a Nirvana concert. Though band lineups and TV series casts are subject to change, the memories we have as a result of them are lasting.

You can find more sound advice on performer-related topics, along with applicable prayers and Bible verses, in my “Prayers for Oppa” book. For more information, visit my website, www.teresasantoski.com.

I hope these steps will help you to grieve your entertainment-related tragedies in a healthy way, whether it’s a fresh wound like Zayn’s departure from One Direction or an older injury that still aches from time to time, like the Day the Music Died. Though entertainment news and our hearts break at about the same speed, our hearts require more time to heal and move on.

– Teresa Santoski

Originally published April 30, 2015

 

NEED IT IN A NUTSHELL?

Here’s an ideal conversation between a distraught One Direction fan and a caring parent:

Fan: (sobbing) “Zayn left One Direction! The world is over!”

Parent: “I’m so sorry, honey. I remember how upset I was when Diane left ‘Cheers.’ Do you want to talk about it? We can go get some ice cream and reminisce about how much fun it was when we went to their concert together. And then we can say a little prayer for Zayn and the rest of the members. God will take good care of them.”

Fan: (sniffling) “OK. Can we listen to ‘Story of My Life’ in the car?”

Parent: “We’ll blast it.”

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Tete-a-tete: Parents, do not give your child the name equivalent of the April birthstone

Over the past year, an unprecedented number of my friends and relatives have either become pregnant or given birth, inundating my Facebook timeline and my postal mailbox with birth announcements, sonogram images, and baby pictures. The parenting advice is likewise flying fast and furious.

Since I don’t have children of my own, I have little to say regarding sleep schedules or swaddling techniques, but there is one piece of advice I feel very qualified to give. It is as follows: Parents, please do not give your child the name equivalent of the April birthstone.

As an April baby myself, I’ve lived my entire life with the disappointment of having the diamond as my birthstone. In theory, it’s an enviable gem to have associated with your birth month. Diamonds are beautiful, valuable and, as the traditional choice for engagement rings, a symbol of eternal love.

In reality, however, it doesn’t play out so well. When I was in elementary school, birthstone jewelry was popular amongst my circle of friends. The gems were artificial, of course, but they were sparkly and colorful, which are the most important things to little girls.

My friend with a May birthday had a ring with a green sparkle representing her emerald birthstone. My friend who had a February birthday had a necklace with a purple sparkle to reflect her amethyst birthstone.

I, on the other hand, didn’t bother buying any birthstone jewelry because it wasn’t worth it. All April got was a clear piece of glass. It didn’t even sparkle. I considered buying the January birthstone jewelry because the fake garnet was such a beautiful shade of deep red, but I felt it would be dishonest.

Now that I’m an adult who can ostensibly afford the real version of my birthstone, I face different conundrums. Cubic zirconia has become such a common and convincing substitute for diamond that most people can’t tell if the diamond you’re wearing is real or not – and they’ll generally assume it’s not. Why pay for a real diamond when no one will recognize it as such?

Also, there is no way I can wear a birthstone ring – real or otherwise – without people congratulating me and asking me when the wedding is. Really, given all the challenges diamonds pose, April might as well not have a birthstone at all.

Parents don’t have much control over their child’s birthstone, but they do have control over something far more important: their child’s name. Names are an essential part of daily life and therefore much harder to overlook than birthstones. Potential parents, I encourage you to consider every aspect of your child’s name before you finalize it lest it become a source of disappointment to them instead of the joyful indicator of identity it should be.

Here are a few ways to avoid making a name the equivalent of an April birthstone:

  • Make sure the first name matches well with the last name. Justin, for example, is a great name for a boy, but you may want to rethink it if his last name is Case.
  • Abstain from unusual spellings of traditional names. You may think “Mayri” is a lovely alternative to Mary, and your daughter may one day agree. In the meantime, however, you’ll be consoling her because her friends all bought those personalized keychains at the dollar store for their backpacks and she can never find anything with her name on it. This is to say nothing of the challenges she’ll have in explaining the correct spelling and pronunciation of her name to teachers, doctors, and the world at large.
  • Think about how the name might be received in a professional environment. Honey might be a sweet name for a little girl, but it may create some awkward situations for your daughter when she enters the business world. If you absolutely want to give your child a cute first name, consider giving them a more traditional middle name that they can use professionally if they desire.
  • Consider associations with popular characters or public figures. Any boy named Troy is liable to be serenaded with songs from the “High School Musical” movies at some point, and every Kevin will be asked to make the “Home Alone” face at least once in his life.

These guidelines aren’t intended to discourage parents from giving their child a name that has a complicated spelling or comes with associated cultural baggage. They’re simply an encouragement to think about potential names from a variety of angles and the impact your child’s name might have on their life and their relationships with others.

The most important characteristic of a name is that it should be meaningful, perhaps because it’s a family name that’s been passed down through the generations or it’s a name that represents your child’s ethnic heritage or perhaps because of what the name means in and of itself. The significance of the name to your child should outweigh any complications he or she has to deal with as a result of having it.

I wouldn’t trade the name Teresa for anything, in spite of constantly having to tell people (even my relatives) that there’s no H in my name and having been referred to as “Mother Teresa” by some of my Sunday School classmates. To me, my name is worth these minor frustrations.

My birthstone, on the other hand, is not. If anyone with a January birthday would like to see about swapping birthstones, let me know. I still think garnets are quite lovely.

– Teresa Santoski

www.teresasantoski.com

Originally published April 2, 2015.

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How to cope with the departure of a group member

It’s an unfortunate reality of the music industry that members sometimes leave their groups. The member’s departure often sends a shockwave through the fandom, leaving fans confused, hurt, upset, and uncertain where to go from here.

So what’s a fan to do in these circumstances? How can you handle a member’s departure in a godly and healthy way, especially if that member is your favorite? Continue reading

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Has a performer inspired you to make a change in your life? A few points to keep in mind.

Due to their talent, personalities, physical attractiveness, and high public profile, performers often become role models to their fans, inspiring them to make changes in their lives. Continue reading

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Tete-a-tete: Memento or clutter? Don’t leave that decision to the historians

Due to the massive amount of snow that has fallen and the accompanying freezing temperatures, the time I’ve spent outdoors this winter has been, shall we say, limited. Rather than catching up on movies or taking up a new hobby (like learning how to knit an enormous blanket), I’m investing this unprecedented amount of “indoor time” in a full-scale cleaning and reorganization of my living space.

Little did I realize I was embarking on a journey into some of life’s deepest questions. What things do I really need and use? What should I give away? What should I keep? And how do I make such momentous decisions? I don’t want future generations to curse me for deciding that my elementary school art projects qualify as family heirlooms.

Granted, not all decisions are equally momentous. Choosing to chuck the brood of pantyhose and knee-highs that has been nesting in my sock drawer undisturbed for the past five years was pretty much a no-brainer, as was recycling the user manuals for electronics I no longer own.

After all the no-brainer items were taken care of, I found myself dealing with increasingly rigorous levels of contemplation and soul-searching. First was the re-evaluation of my personal interests. It takes a lot to admit that there are certain books, movies, and CDs you’ve accumulated over the years that you’re just not going to read, watch, or listen to. Though it was somewhat distressing to acknowledge that I’ll likely never read Dante’s “The Divine Comedy,” the fact that I can now fit my thesaurus on my bookshelf instead of stowing it under the bed is helping to ease the pain.

The next level of contemplation was the reconsideration of social protocol. If someone I once knew took the time to send me a thoughtful note ten years ago, does that mean I’m obligated to hold on to it forever? I have concluded that it’s just as emotionally fulfilling (and more space-savvy) to harbor gratitude and appreciation in my heart as to save the note in a box.

The final – and most difficult – level of contemplation was the consideration of posterity. What items that I’ve been entrusted with from the past are actually worth preserving? What items from my own past are worth preserving for future generations?

Thankfully, there are a few no-brainers in this category, such as the Slovak prayer book Grandma received for her First Communion. To the best of my knowledge, no one in my family speaks Slovak anymore, but the prayer book represents an important part of our heritage.

But what about the costume jewelry that once belonged to another female relative? It’s very dated (from the 1990s), and it’s the kind of jewelry that you would get at a “buy-two-get-one-free” sale at a department store. I know this for a fact, because many times I had the delightful childhood privilege of choosing the free item for myself.

Pending a hardcore ‘90s revival, this jewelry will likely never be worn again. I still have the memories associated with the jewelry and this relative, but what about future generations? Anything they know about her will be secondhand, acquired through the retellings of others. Might they want a possession of hers, tacky though it may be?

Among my own possessions, there are the miniature terra cotta warriors I picked up on my trip to China. They represent the culmination of my bargaining skills (I got the vendor down to U.S. $5) but that’s the extent of the memories associated with them. There are other souvenirs from that adventure that are more meaningful to me, but what will be the perspective of future generations?

This isn’t to say that I’m letting the potential opinions of a generation that hasn’t even been born yet dictate what I keep and what I give away. I’m keeping my terra cotta warriors simply because I like them. Plus, they add a bit of gravitas to the décor. This does, however, make me more careful in my decisions – especially in regards to things that I’ve inherited – and remind me that what I consider important might not be important to someone else and vice versa.

I don’t have infallible answers to the great cosmic questions of de-cluttering, but I have happened upon a few helpful guidelines. First, never underestimate the amount of space taken up by paper. You’ll never miss those outdated user manuals or faded receipts, and you’ll welcome the amount of space that will be freed up in your desk or closet.

Second, it’s amazing what we save simply because it never occurs to us that we no longer use it or we’d rather not admit that we’ll never get around to using it. Set your own personal versions of pantyhose and Dante’s “Divine Comedy” free and watch your spirits soar.

And lastly, give yourself some leeway when it comes to items you’ve inherited. Ask other family members if they want an item before you give it away, and if you’re not completely comfortable with letting something go, keep it. Set it aside for future generations – they might thank you for it.

Or, they might just complain about how much stuff they have to go through because their forbears saved everything. Really, it could go either way.

– Teresa Santoski

www.teresasantoski.com

Originally published March 5, 2015.

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What can you do when your favorite performer doesn’t notice you?

For a dedicated fan, there is no greater thrill than being noticed by their favorite performer. This may take the form of interaction during a concert or other event, an exchange during the audience-participation segment of an interview, or a response on social media.

The unfortunate truth, however, is that some fans may never receive the recognition they desire from their favorite performers. This can be painful and disappointing, especially if the fan has been a long-time supporter and is still waiting to be noticed.

So what’s a fan to do in these circumstances? Continue reading

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Tete-a-tete: How Mom and Dad saved Christmas (and a hamster)

Teresa’s note: I realize this topic is a bit unseasonal, but sometimes strange things happen to my family and I simply can’t wait 12 months to share them. Thank you for bearing with me, and please enjoy.

Everyone is called upon to save Christmas at least once in their lives. Sometimes this entails snagging the impossible-to-find toy of the season, salvaging a burnt turkey, or squeezing in a trip home to visit relatives you haven’t seen in years.

And sometimes, it involves performing CPR on a hamster.

This Christmas was our first without Cleo, our beloved family feline who, as I mentioned in a previous column, passed away over the summer at the ripe old age of 22. It was also our first Christmas with Jinx, the hamster 15-year-old Younger Sister convinced Mom and Dad to acquire to help ease our heartbreak. I’m sure Cleo would be less than amused to know that our current pet is, from her perspective, an appetizer, but I digress.

As a Christmas gift, Jinx received a large seed treat molded into the shape of a bell. She nibbled on it for a moment and then lost interest, so Younger Sister put her into her hamster ball to get some exercise. The majority of the family gathered around the kitchen table for a card game while Jinx scooted around the first floor, occasionally bumping into feet and furniture.

It was late and the card game was running long, so Younger Sister (who claimed fatigue but was also bringing up the rear in terms of points) decided to drop out and play with Jinx in the family room. She took the hamster out of her ball and reclined on the couch.

A few minutes later, we heard a terrified scream: “Mom! She’s not breathing!”

Mom bolted up from the kitchen table and Dad pelted down the stairs, converging on a sobbing Younger Sister and an unresponsive ham-ham. The rest of us remained around the kitchen table, frozen in near silence.

None of us wanted to verbalize the thought that was on all of our minds: If Younger Sister’s hamster – the “replacement pet” for our dearly departed feline – dies today, this will officially be our Worst Christmas Ever and Younger Sister is going to need counseling.

In true wifely fashion, Sister-in-law turned to Oldest Younger Brother and asked him if there was anything he could do. Oldest Younger Brother, who works in computer software, did the only thing he could under the circumstances and Googled instructions for how to revive a hamster. I simply sat and prayed that we wouldn’t be taking yet another family pet to the animal crematorium.

Joyful sobs suddenly erupted from the family room, and we all realized that we, too, had stopped breathing. Mom hurried in to the kitchen to share the details of the successful resuscitative efforts.

Mom had gently taken Jinx from Younger Sister and was cupping the insensible hamster in her hands when Dad, who we had thought was upstairs resting, raced into the family room and started barking orders at Mom like an army drill sergeant walking a new recruit through rodent resuscitation.

As though he had been in this odd situation numerous times before, Dad confidently instructed Mom to press on Jinx’s chest with her fingers and blow in the hamster’s face in a scaled-down version of CPR. Mom did so, adding a mini Heimlich maneuver by allowing Jinx to dangle slightly in case anything was stuck. Suddenly, Jinx started breathing again and, after a moment, impatiently indicated her desire to get back in her ball.

Upon entering the ball, Jinx ran a short distance and then stopped. Mom, Dad, and Younger Sister had exchanged a terrified look, thinking the CPR had been unsuccessful after all, and then realized that Jinx had paused to vengefully devour the rogue seed from her Christmas gift that had been dislodged during the resuscitative process.

How lovely. So had Jinx expired, it would have been because she choked to death on her Christmas present. What a wonderful holiday memory Younger Sister would have had to share with her own children – and a therapist.

The seed bell went into the garbage to avoid any future near-death experiences, and Jinx continued to roam around her ball, enjoying her second chance at life. We returned to our card game, shaken and emotionally drained but exceedingly grateful for our Christmas miracle.

Saving Christmas is not about creating a holiday celebration that puts Norman Rockwell to shame, with picture-perfect food, gifts, and family interactions. It’s about going the extra mile to show our family and friends how much we love them, just as God showed how much He loves us by giving us the gift of His Son, Jesus.

Sometimes love is driving to a dozen different toy stores to find the only gift your child asked for for Christmas. Sometimes it’s scraping the burnt skin off a turkey and eating it with lots of gravy to show appreciation for the first-time cook who prepared the holiday meal. Sometimes it’s putting up with the stress of taking time off work and traveling just to see your relatives smile.

And sometimes, love is putting your heads together and doing everything you can to save a small, furry life. Love does what needs to be done, no matter how hopeless – or ludicrous – the situation may seem.

– Teresa Santoski

www.teresasantoski.com

Originally published Feb. 5, 2015.

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