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Show Page A6 Thursday, December 16, 2004 tHimgg-tthepertfre- ttt Idle Thoughts from Mt. Waas The way Sam Remembers by Sam Taylor TEMPERED EXPECTATIONS house in the old part of Moab. With the exception of the house being a little too warm, around 80, we all enjoyed the meal and the Her menu rarely varied. Baked ham, green rice, rolls with butter and jelly, Jello hot home-mad- e k Thursday is usually a day around here. Last Thursday was no exception. Shortly after lunchtime we were all standing around the front office visiting when Santa Claus popped in the front door to wish us a Merry Christmas. He was sincere about it, and the sincerity was contagious. When asked who he was, he replied: Why, Santa Claus. What did you think? He then went on to say that he traditionally made stops like that whenever he saw a family or business group gathered around. was impressed. It really filled me with the Christmas spirit. After he was gone, with a Ho, even went back into my office and Ho, Ho, a wrapped couple of Christmas gifts for grandin that department. Im daughters. Adrien recalled a Christmas a number of years back when our extended family was similarly surprised. Like most families, ours had a number of traditions we revisited each year. Christmas Eve dinner at Aunt Louises, breakfast at our house, and dinner at the home of my parents. We rarely varied the routine. When our four kids were small, they looked forward to the traditional family gatherings with excitement. Our Aunt Louise (Watts) always went to a lot of work on the Christmas Eve gathering at her small laid-bac- salad and hot chocolate. She also handed out to each family there a loaf of her home-mad- e pork scrapple which we for with Christmas breakuse took home eagerly fast. We annually replicate that meal in one of our homes. We can even find some pretty good pork scrapple at City Market. My parents, Aunt Louise and other elder members of the gathering have been gone a long time, but we still remember those great family gatherings when the kids were I I two-ahea- it by Ollie Harris d little. One year, after we had finished the huge dinner, we were sitting around in her warm living room, when a loud knock came from the front door. We quickly opened it and in walked Santa Claus, who was out just starting his rounds. We d as were stunned, and the kids were he quizzed them about whether they had been naughty or nice. After a few minutes he swept out the door. As he was hurrying down the sidewalk, we heard him exclaim, Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. You can bet it was a good night for all the little Taylors. Even us adult types were warmed by the visit. Our Santa that night was the late Max Day, who looked forward to donning his Santa suit each winter to ride in parades, greet hordes of kids, and surprise members of family groups all over town. None of us will ever forget that special night when he made a surprise visit to our gathering. miss the old gatherings. even miss Aunt Louises extra warm living room more and more as grow older, and become less tolerant of cold weather. Thank you, Santa of 2004 for making our week. Good luck and lots of cheer to you as you approach the busiest time of your year. wide-eye- I I I Santa leaving The Times. dont. I just want to give light to a truism most of us know but tend to forget in a moment of purchasing passion. It is this: Almost nothing assembles as easily, installs as cleanly, fits as precisely, operates as smoothly, functions as well, enhances performance as dramatically, or looks as cool as the advertisements promise. I remembered this truism the other day as I was assembling, mounting and installing a new weather station. The task that should have taken me an hour or two, took the better part of the day. And, its still not finished. I was very heartened when the anemometer began to send wind speed and direction to the base station. It was so cool to see wind speeds measuring as low as of a mile per hour displayed on the receiver. Since then, however, we have had snow. The snowflakes piled up and stopped the tiny blades of the anemometer. My display shows wind direction but nothing about wind I dont mean to sound cynical, I really six-tent- speed. See? Years ago, when I was seriously into the Volkswagen Baja that my sons and I built, I learned an important lesson. Say, for example, I wanted to change the clutch on the VW Baja. First, I would rehearse the entire process in my mind. I would list each step to be taken and assemble the tools that would be needed to complete each step. Then I would make a generous estimate of the time it should take to do each step. Next, I would calculate the total time, based on my generous estimation, and double it. It was very important to double the estimate of time because for some unknown reason thats how long it was going to take. I once mounted a pair of aircraft landing lights beneath the windshield of a Volkswagen bus. I installed the illuminated rocker switch in the air duct on the inside of the drivers door. The whole project required some drilling, cutting, shimming and wiring, but when it was finished the lights worked great. I drove out the first night and spent some time aligning and aiming the lights. I was happy with them. Never again would I be surprised by a roadside deer. As it turned out, I mostly stopped using the lights. Sure, they illuminated the roadsides to near daylight, but the reflection from signs and reflectors was so bright that I couldnt tolerate the glare. That, and I had to turn them off before an oncoming car was within a half-mil-e of me. Their use was relegated to those times to those roads when I was truly where there were no other cars and no signs or reflectors. In those places it was fun to see the twin shafts of light beam across an inky void and sweep along a distant canyon wall, or practically singe the hair off an unsuspecting cottontail. Ive been trying to think of some things that have actually exceeded expectations, where assembly was straightforward, or function was flawless, or appearance was perfect. Just enough of those come along to keep us hopeful, but they are rare. The little Subaru wagon that we bought new in 1979 was .22 rifle was another. one. My Browning Of course, the switch from a 1986 Volkswagen van with over 170,000 miles on it to a new 1994 Dodge pickup with the turbocharged Cummins engine was a dramatic contrast. Talk about exceeding expectations! I installed a couple of goodies on the Dodge that functioned as well as Id hoped, even if installation was a pain. Since it is almost Christmas, many will soon be assembling bicycles, tricycles, doll houses, toy ovens and many other gifts from Santa. I hope that doing so is an exciting, giddy, happy experience. Just let me say, remember to give yourselves plenty of time, at least twice as long as you think it should take. Maintain your composure when directions consist of translations from Chinese to English. And, dont be surprised or get all bent out of shape when things turn out to be something less than the advertisements promised. y, lt, after-mark- et best-gue- ss High Country News Writers on the Range Many Trails How to write by Adrien F. Taylor know who that Santa is above, as hes been in and out of my office several times this year in connection with his activities here in Moab. Sometimes a man can hide behind a curly white beard and be anonymous. Other times the eyes and voice are giveaways. We are hoping to have an article next week about the various Moab Santa Claus helpers. have snitched on Mr. Bike Santa, and we'll see if he gets caught in the roundup. Santas play such an important role in the lives of children, and adults who still enjoy the magic, that it's appropriate to acknowledge and thank them. ftIt happened more often when our family was young. Come December would suddenly decide to make everybody pajamas for Christmas, or bathrobes, or shirts, and the great race was on. First it was finding patterns for whatever it was I'd decided to make, and that meant several since people came in many sizes. Then appropriate fabric. Then thread, buttons, etc.: notions, they're called. As often as not, if seems, had to haul the machine over to Ralph Herrick for an emergency tuneup before could get serious about this marathon sewing. Nowadays, it doesn't happen quite so often. But the urge struck me this year. think can explain what's been going on the last couple of weeks without giving anything away and spoiling the surprise for the intended recipients. To start with, had happened onto a great sale on woolen fabrics several years ago, and bought several lengths, which were safely put away in my fabric stash in one of the closets. (Actually, there are a couple of lengths that haven't found yet.) knew what wanted to make, but you can't buy patterns in Moab anymore. That's a loss! We used to be able to buy patterns at three different stores. Now it's and biking supplies. Sigh. Anyway, phoned my sister in Denver, and she mailed over a great pattern. Because of new practices in pattern making, three sizes came in the one package. A boon! Also, the patterns were on sale that day for $1 each, and this one usually retailed at $12.95. We're cooking here. Looking over the stash, finally decided what for whom, and then thought it would be a nice touch to add some fake fur. A trip to Hi Fashion Fabrics in Grand Junction, and two hours of pondering yielded fake fur in four styles, fabulous time frame bebuttons, and the tween now and Christmas. The pattern boasted one hour sewing time at the machine. But am adding the fur trim, plus pockets and buttons, none of which were called for in the original, and all of which take a good bit of extra time and hand sewing. am soldiering on. It's probably over eight hours time in each. Sam has witnessed all this before. He retires to his armchair with the good humor of a husband who knows all of this frantic work is something actually enjoy, and it will come to an end at Christmas, or shortly thereafter, and my good humor will be restored. One recipient will not actually be here for Christmas day, so can put off the finishing on her item until the week after. And then thought I'd make one for my sister, in thanks for her help, and she won't mind if her gift comes late. Now my dilemma is that have more yardage than it takes for the item I'm making, so have remnants of nice woolen yardage to be made into something, but like Scarlet O'Hara, won't worry about that now. I I I I -a- g I I I I I I I I I I I I m I I I I I 8 ISSN (UPS) Entered as Second class Matter at the Post Office at Moab, Utah under the Act of March 3, 1897. Second class postage paid at Moab, Utah 84532. Official City and County Newspaper. Published each Thursday at: 35 East Center Street, Moab, Grand County, Utah 84532 6309-200- Postmaster: Send changes 1538-183- 0) by Dennis Ilinkamp There has to be something in between the kind of Christmas card that is merely signed Happy Holidays, Carol and Frank and The Whole Funk Family, and the five-pag- e Christmas monograph from Jane and Bob, who express so many detailed success and so much pride in their family accomplishments that you want to stab yourself with the fake Christmas icicle ornaments. It must all be in the editing. Or maybe theres just too much pressure to write a Christmas letter that's truly worth reading as it chattily sums up a year. I'll spare you but here's what my own monthly happened during some recent Christmases. Two years ago on December 25, we rose to a cold, quiet winter morning with the pink sunrise light hitting Utah's Wellsville Mountains. There was a fluffy feral cat doing its best bird imitation in an ancient heirloom apple tree in our back yard. The birds were avoiding the cat and gathering around the chimney of the neighbors house to catch a little steamy warmth. Later in the day, I was jogging along the snowy canal path while the leg of lamb was roasting. Along the way I saw a young deer do a perfect Bambi split on the ice lining the bottom of the canal. That was a Norman Rockwell day. It all happened, but who would want to read about it? Last year, just outside Tucson, we stopped to buy some charcoal at the only convenience store open because thats what you do on a Christmas day when you are from somewhere as cold as northern Utah and it's warm enough in Arizona to barbecue outside. On the way out, I held the door for a young man carrying two of those suitcase-size- d packages of beer because that is what you do on Christmas day when you are from a polite place like northern Utah. He seemed in a hurry to get in his car and his get beverages home to fellow celebrants. As he spun out of the parking lot, the clerk yelled Well, there goes another beer run! The person I had just helped out the door hadnt paid. blow-by-blo- address to: The or P.O. Box 129, Moab, UT Times-lndepende- FAX 84532 NATIONAL NEWSPAPER ASSOCIATION and UTAH PRESS ASSOCIATION Samuel J. and Adrien F. Taylor, Publishers Adrien F. Taylor, Editor Sadie Warner, Assistant Editor Carrie Switzer Lisa Church Jeff Richards Marjorie Miller Jeannine Wait Barbecuing among the cacti and aiding and abetting a robbery now, that was a Jackson Pollock Christmas. Would anyone care to read about that? There was also a Christmas in Death Valthe bathroom, one ley, the Christmas I d where I slept in my camper in a Las Vegas parking lot, and more than a few I spent inside a Catholic Church. This year is looking a little re-tile- vanilla. Still, 2004 hasn't been all dull. I recall the fight my father and I got in over how poorly I sharpen kitchen knives and how we all discovered that the new dog really loves the taste of its own feces. I was paranoid a lot about the people I work with, I got more rejection letters from publishers, and Im really starting to regret all that sunbathing I did as a teen. Somewhere this year I realized I probably should have invested in Microsoft, AOL and instead of all those green businesses that took a dive. I really screwed up that door installation project; I probably paid too much for that truck I bought; I ate too much, drank too much and I didnt exercise nearly enough. I also had impure thoughts about a whole bunch of people. My mother called to tell me about her colonoscopy, and I'm sure I wasnt nice enough in general to anyone. I didnt give enough money to National Public Radio or the United Way, and I probably took too big a tax deduction for that stuff I gave to the thrift store sponsored by the Mormon Church. I didnt learn enough new software programs, and I never got around to taking those blues guitar lessons I promised myself I would. Coveting? Yep, I was all over that one too. The only thing that saved me was that there are only Ten Commandments. This all happened; it's the unedited truth. Peace, joy and honesty to you and all your loved and even ones. 'Tis the season. Dennis Hinkamp is a contributor to Writers on the Range , a service of High Country News (hcn.org). He writes in Logan, Utah, where he's an extension communications specialist for Utah State University. Wal-Ma- rt Letters from the People Policy 435-259-77- The does not necessarily endorse the opinions published in letters and guest editorials. The T- welcomes opinions from its readers concerning any subject pertinent to Southeastern Utah. Letters should be to the point and must include the writers name, address and telephone number. Letters may not be used to replace advertisements, or to list and thank sponsors or participants to a particular event. Letters to the editor will be not be accepted from any candidate who has filed for political office or from anyone writing in support of a filed candidate. Anything unsigned, of a libelous nature, or containing defamatory statements will not be considered for publication. All letters must be typed or legibly written, and be 400 words or less. Letters are subject to editing. Mail to Letter to the Editor RO. Box 1 29, Moab, Utah, 84532. Deadline is Monday, 5 p.m. Letters may also be sent via to editormoabtimes.com. The may not accept letters from persons who write more frequently than once every four weeks. Changes to letters to the editor after submission will be accepted only in the most extreme circumstances. 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