Author: William Douthwaite

Posted in Christmas, noticing

Look who showed up

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon is also called the frequency illusion or recency bias. It’s a label for those times in life when something you’ve learned or talked about suddenly shows up everywhere.

For example, let’s say you’ve been talking with your about buying a new car. When you’re driving to work the next day, every other car on the road seems to be the make and model you discussed.

Or, you’ve been debating whether or not to get a smart watch. You stop by the store and it seems like everyone has one on their wrist.

How about when you learn a new word, and suddenly you notice it everywhere? It’s in the books and articles you read. It’s pops up in conversations.

One person you’ll see a lot of in December is Santa Claus. Though he faces stiff competition from the Grinch and other wintery characters, he’s the guy everyone wants to see on the float at the end of parade.

So I’m sitting in bible class at my son’s church last Sunday. I glance over and see this guy sitting there. My wife just rolled her eyes when I leaned over and said, “Look who’s here!” I don’t blame him for looking tired. He’s got his work cut out for him each Christmas Eve. After the worship service prelude, he sat down and played a beautiful arrangement of “Joy to the World.”

Speaking of Christmas Eve, I sat behind a gentleman at the candlelight service. He also had a long, bushy white beard and longish gray hair tied back in a pony tail. I leaned over the said to my daughter, “Isn’t he supposed to be working tonight?” She giggled and an elbow to my side made me straighten up for the rest of the service.

I like to imagine Santa doing everyday things between Christmases. I hope he gets to go out for supper and try new cuisine, get to some sporting events and concerts, and a movie.

Keep an eye out. I’ll bet you start seeing him more often now!

Posted in Christmas, Travel

Holiday at the Arboretum

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Last Friday night, we went to the Dallas Arboretum and Botanical Gardens with our Texas family. It was chilly, but we really enjoyed the seasonal “Holiday at the Arboretum.”

From what I could see, every tree in the arboretum was wrapped in lights. A Christmas village featured little shops for kids to visit and get treats. The twelve days of Christmas were displayed in gazebos along the garden walkway. Lights on the giant Christmas tree flashed colors and shapes in time with music.

I can’t even imagine what it takes to prepare the gardens for this event. I do remember people hanging lights and setting up gazebos when we were there for the pumpkin displays in October.

The youngest Texas grandchild belts out, “Five golden rings…” about once an hour. All the kids were excited to see the larger-than-life gifts from the song.

My wise son and his wife brought along thermoses of hot chocolate and tea. The Arboretum had vendors charging $8 for a small cup of tea or cider. Yikes! But the weather was cold so the line was long.

It was a great family outing and a great way to continue our Christmas celebration.

Posted in coffee, Travel

Coffee and hot chocolate

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“The espresso machine is having problems today.”

There’s a sentence you don’t want to hear at a coffee shop.

After a cool day trips with a granddaughter, we stopped at Rosalind’s in downtown Garland, TX for an afternoon snack. The girls wanted hot chocolate. I chose a double shot of espresso.

The place was crowded. The shop has recently been remodeled and expanded. Most of the tables were filled with people on laptop computers. The open table we found was right in the middle of it all.

My granddaughter picked out a chocolate chip cookie, and went sat down to wait for our drinks.

The wait was longer than I expected, but finally a barista called my name. As I walked away with two cups, I heard my name again. When I returned to the pick-up counter, the barista whispered, “I’m sorry, but the espresso machine is having problems today.” Uh-oh. No ones to hear that at a coffee shop. I said, “That’s OK, I’ll just have a small coffee.

The hot chocolate was better than expected, too. Topped with frothed milk, it left a great mustache on the drinker’s top lip. My coffee was delicious. I should have asked where they get their beans.

The chocolate chip cookie disappeared in record time, we enjoyed our drinks, and played a table top hook-the-ring game.

When we returned the next day with another granddaughter, we were glad to learn that the espresso machine was up and running,

Garland’s little downtown area looks better every time we come. Businesses have remodeled and reopened shops and street parking is usually full. It’s a cool place to hang out. The population here is diverse. Not many cowboys, but lots of Americans from India, Asia, and Mexico.

Posted in Life

A cafe full of cats

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Our four-year-old granddaughter’s outing of choice was a trip to Whiskers and Soda cat cafe. For the uninitiated, a cat cafe is a room full of cats containing a coffee shop. This one is run by a local animal shelter. Their hope is that you’ll fall in love and take home a cat. I think most people go to get a cat fix because there is no way they are taking one home.

Tables and chairs fill the center of the room, equipped with cat books and puzzles. Snoozing cats surround patrons on beds, blankets, cushions, and shelves up and down the walls. Kittens are in a separate room in the back. When cats want to take a break, they have access to a room locked off from visitors.

Most of the cats were sleeping. A few came over to see us when we came through the door. One cat was watching a video of birds and squirrels at a feeder. Others sat by the front window watching people come and go. Some jumped up on our table to see what we were doing.

I got a nice purr from a calico in a love seat. A gray tiger stripe curled up in my lap when I sat on the floor, and stretched up to rub his face against my beard. All the others ignored me, sleeping, pretending to sleep, or scampering away to the “cats only” room.

My granddaughter and her nine-year-old sister both enjoyed a hour with the cats. There wasn’t much of a cafe other than sodas in a cooler. One family took a kitten home, and we smiled as much as they did.

Posted in Travel

Our first time in a tiny home

Posted on by William Douthwaite

We’ve driven by tiny home and wondered what it would be like to live in one. By definition, a tiny home is one less than 400 square feet, not including loft areas.

I booked an Airbnb tiny home for this year’s Christmas visit with my son in Texas. We’ve stayed in hotels, four bedroom homes, lakeside condos, converted garage efficiencies, and a loft above a horse barn. Once we saw this listing, we knew we had to try it.

It is, in a word, tiny. This one has a 200 square foot footprint with a lofted sleeping area. That’s smaller than our 18×12 patio room. It’s about the same size as my son’s kitchen/dining area.

When we come to visit, we only sleep in a rental. We spend the rest of the time doing stuff with the family. The reader might ask, “Why not stay with them?” With four children, their home is full, so we don’t mind sleeping down the street or around the corner.

This tiny house is parked in a driveway off an alley behind a two-story suburban home. The backyard and driveway are surrounded by an eight foot wooden fence, providing security and privacy.

The bathroom takes up the back four feet. Standard toilet, decent sized shower, miniature sink, shelves for stuff. water drains into a small septic tank in the yard. The water supply comes from a hose from the house. Lots of pressure for nice hot showers. I’m not sure how they run in electric, but we’ve got plenty for the range, space heaters, and a hair dryer.

Kitchen cabinets line the two sides of the home, with drawers for storage as well as a sink, range, and a mini side-by-side refrigerator-freezer. Dishes and condiments all live on open shelves. The front half of the house has a sofa, stacked storage cubes, and a few stools to sit at a small table. A flat screen TV is mounted a bit too high on the wall above a large window.

When we first walked in, it felt so cramped. But after a few nights we’re getting used to it. The stairs to the loft are tricky, especially in the middle of the night. It’s a good way to use space, but you better be agile.

That’s the whole thing. Bathroom is through the door. Bed is up the stairs.

We’ve read stories of people who lived in tiny homes with children for an entire year. I’m not sure how they do it, unless they have an outdoor sitting area and better built-in storage.

But it’s ok (and cheap) for a few days.

Posted in Travel

A sight for traveling eyes

Posted on by William Douthwaite

When we traveled with our children, I would make an airport bingo card to entertain them while we waited in line or at gates. I would think of some of the craziest things someone might wear or carry, and challenge the kids to find those people.

  • A man with a red clown nose
  • Someone in a turban with striped pants
  • Fuzzy slippers
  • Someone with a sharp, pointy nose
  • A woman wearing a tutu

The best part is that we found every single crazy person or outfit we could imagine in the airport! Every single time!

That was twenty-five years ago. Pre 9/11. The things listed above? The rule rather than the exception. the airport is filled with pink and purple hair, tutus, pajamas, dogs and cats, five-inch stiletto heels, thigh high boots, and three-inch long fingernails.

So I was pretty excited when I saw this woman wearing Grinch pajamas on the way to her gate.

Why are airport appearances so different than anywhere else? Why are airports the best place for people watching and photo taking?

Posted in Christmas, memories

A cold, memorable Christmas

Posted on by William Douthwaite
St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Fort Wayne, IN

At Christmas supper last night, we posed the question, “What was your most memorable Christmas?” That was a toughie. Many Christmas memories blend together in my mind.

Twenty four hours later, I’ve zeroed in on 1983 as my most memorable Christmas.

This was the first year I didn’t go home for Christmas. I was in the middle of my second year of seminary education in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I decided to stay there to play trumpet for Christmas Eve services at historic downtown St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, and then drive to my fiancée’s home in Columbus on Christmas Day.

But it was cold. Really cold. 30 below zero cold. Almost all the other churches in the city cancelled their worship services that night. I was driving a 1980 Volkswagen Rabbit diesel. Diesel fuel has a problem with sub-zero temps and the sad, slow rowl-rowl-rowl of the starter let me know my car wasn’t going anywhere that night. A well-meaning friend suggested, “Just have them inject some ether. That’s how they start up the big rigs.” Since I wasn’t a big rig parked at a truck stop, I called around and got a ride to and from church that Christmas Eve.

The next morning, some friends of my fiancée’s family were headed to Columbus, and gave me a ride to join the family for Christmas Day. From there were were supposed to drive to Philadelphia to spin time with my family. My Father-in-law let us use his pickup truck for the trip. It had dual twenty-five gallon gas tanks to quench its thirst for fuel and got us there and back safely.

On this trip, my future wife got to meet my parents, Labrador Retriever, and former coworkers from Bell Labs.

By the time I got back to Fort Wayne, the temperatures had moderated, and my car started right up. A memorable Christmas in the books.

Posted in Christmas

Just another ordinary (Christmas) day

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s 9:00 am Christmas morning and my across the street neighbor is detailing one of his pickup trucks in his driveway. Portuguese music fills the air. I stepped out front to let Shazam listen to it, and found out it is Oh Minha Mae (Oh My Mother) by the Brazilian group Mundo Novo.

I find it interesting that on a day when much of the nation has set everything else aside to observe Christmas, for some it’s just another day. There is no mail delivery or trash collection. Banks, schools and most stores are closed. Highways and airports are packed with travelers. Church attendance spikes for an evening.

But hospitals are open and staffed, along with firehouses and police precincts. Cooks and servers work their shifts at busy restaurants. Winston (the Westie) and I saw most of the usual dog walkers this morning. I’ve received all the usual spam email.

I guess the latter is more biblically Christmas-y. Shepherds do shift work. Contractions come closer together, moms give birth, and newborns cry. Governments govern, stars dot the night sky, and people gossip. Life as usual.

When God arrives in the world, he falls right in step. When you think about it, most of Jesus’ life was ordinary. Do the math. He lived on earth for thirty-three years, but his public ministry which included amazing teaching and miraculous works lasted only three. That’s less then ten percent of his life. A lot of that time was spent walking, sleeping, eating, and spending time with friends.

But in the ordinary rhythms of life, Jesus did the extraordinary. He was obedient. He died and came back to life. That not only gives us a future, but redeems our ordinary todays, too. His life and love gives our usual moments meaning and value, too.

Posted in Christmas

A Christmas memory I don’t remember

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I was looking for something else on my computer when I came across this picture from a 1958 Christmas, gleaned from a collection of my dad’s slides. That’s the one-and-a-half me in the red jumpsuit. That’s my mom sitting in the chair, and I’m pretty sure that’s her dad on the left.

My gifts included a ball, a train building set, and a classic Lassie dog. But in this moment, I was all about the red balloon on which my mom must have drawn something.

I think this is my grandparents house in northeast Philadelphia. The live tabletop tree, carefully decorated with individual strands of tinsel, is encircled by an O-gauge Lionel electric train. A tiny nativity on the table is surrounded by a little host of angels.

Mom’s ever-present ashtray and cup of coffee are perched on the arm of her chair. I’ll bet I’m the reason why she looks weary on this Christmas morning. She was twenty-four in this picture.

My earliest memories come from when I was six years old. This is a Christmas flashback by virtue of the fact that my dad caught it on film. This Christmas memory is one I don’t remember. These pictures tell my story, a story that fascinates me.

My dad’s slides included three or four pictures from each Christmas. Not many compared to the dozens of digital photos we take every year. But enough to make me want to sift through them to learn more about my childhood, memories I don’t remember.