Merry Christmas Eve

I rise for my journey south to be with family but read Heather Cox Richardson first, and learn how NORAD started tracking Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve.

From Heather: On December 24, 2025, the North American Aerospace Defense Command, or NORAD, will celebrate seventy years of tracking Santa’s sleigh.

According to legend, the tradition of tracking Santa’s sleigh began in November 1955, when a child trying to reach Santa on a telephone hotline advertised by a Sears, Roebuck & Co. store in Colorado transposed two digits. It was not Santa who picked up the phone, but Colonel Harry Shoup of Continental Air Defense Command, known as CONAD, located in Colorado Springs.

He realized this was an opportunity to promote our air defense system that protected us and Canada from Soviet bombers coming over the North Pole.

A few weeks after the young child’s call, Shoup told his public-relations officer to inform the news wire services that CONAD was tracking Santa’s sleigh as it traveled from his home at the North Pole. Reporters loved the story, and the following year they called to see if the trackers would be operational again.

In 1957,* Canada and the U.S. formed the North American Air Defense Command, or NORAD. By charting Santa’s ride, the agency illustrated the military’s mission to protect the citizens of the continent by tracking an object traveling from the North Pole, over the Arctic Ocean, to Canada, and beyond.

By Christmas Eve 1960, NORAD was posting updates and tracking the flight of “S. Claus.” It reported that the sleigh had made an emergency landing on the ice of Hudson Bay. When Canadian fighter jets stopped by to check on the incident, they found Santa tending to a reindeer’s injured foot. Once the animal was bandaged, the jets escorted Santa’s sleigh as he completed his annual flight. Since then, fighter jets have frequently intercepted the sleigh to salute Santa, who reins in his team to let the slower jets catch up.

Over time, NORAD became the North American Aerospace Defense Command, and its mission expanded to include collecting information about the Earth’s atmosphere, coastal waters, and intelligence. It is still key to U.S. and Canadian defense.

And what began in 1955 as a way to familiarize war-weary Americans with Cold War–era defense systems has become an operation in which more than 1,000 Canadian and American military personnel, Defense Department civilian workers, and local participants near Colorado Springs, where NORAD is headquartered, volunteer to answer the more than 100,000 phone calls that come from children around the world on Christmas Eve. It is a testament to the longstanding U.S.-Canadian friendship.

For one night a year, the hard-edged world of international alliances, intelligence, radar, satellites, and fighter jets turns into a night for adults to create a magical world for children.

And we’re all children!
Rest and Nest
Reflect on our future!

The Penguin Lessons

A friend recommended the movie The Penguin Lessons.  I love it.  I was then inspired to read the book The Penguin Lessons by Tom Mitchell that inspired the movie.  There are similarities, yes, a wonderful penguin, who changes people’s lives, but there is much more in the book, so I recommend both with maybe the book second, though who knows.  Notice what draws you.

Meanwhile, enjoy this poem by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.  

Spring Awakening

One day you wake up
able to name the weight
you’ve been carrying.

Realizing it’s not part of your body or your being,
not essential in any way to journeying or joy,
you set it down gently, without fanfare
in the long soft grass at the side of the road
and walk on

Surprised to find yourself
smiling in the warm sun
for no particular reason.

Meet
Hold
Nurture and Feed

Flow and Roll

Because I’m with death these days, this process I see as transformation, warp and weft, tangling and untangling, I feel the words of Carl Perkins roll through me.

If it weren’t for the rocks in its bed, the stream would have no song.

With death, we become the stream, allowing others a more vibrant and fragrant place as they fill in where we were as we liquify and aerate, dissolve and reform.

When you love, you complete a circle. When you die, the circle remains.

John Squadra

The ridge this morning

Courage

It’s a day to honor courage. The word comes from the French, couer, the heart.

We honor one man today, Martin Luther King, Jr.

In 1957, he said:


“I am convinced that love is the most durable power in the world. It is not an expression of impractical idealism, but of practical realism. Far from being the pious injunction of a Utopian dreamer, love is an absolute necessity for the survival of our civilization. To return hate for hate does nothing but intensify the existence of evil in the universe. Someone must have sense enough and religion enough to cut off the chain of hate and evil, and this can only be done through love.”

Spiraling open the layers of Love
So many ways – how does each of us unfold

Building bridges

Mother Trees

When I was young, I had a tree, a nest into which I climbed.

I resonate to these words of Richard Powers from The Overstory.

The judge asks, “Young, straight, faster-growing trees aren’t better than older, rotting trees?” “Better for us. Not for the forest.”

She describes how a rotting log is home to orders of magnitude more living tissue than the living tree. “I sometimes wonder whether a tree’s real task on Earth isn’t to bulk itself up in preparation to lying dead on the forest floor for a long time.” The judge asks what living things might need a dead tree. “Name your family. Your order. Birds, mammals, other plants. Tens of thousands of invertebrates. Three-quarters of the region’s amphibians need them. Almost all the reptiles. Animals that keep down the pests that kill other trees. A dead tree is an infinite hotel.” She tells him about the ambrosia beetle. The alcohol of rotting wood summons it. It moves into the log and excavates. Through its tunnel systems, it plants bits of fungus that it brought in with it, on a special formation on its head. The fungus eats the wood; the beetle eats the fungus. “Beetles are farming the log?” “They farm. Without subsidies. Unless you count the log.” “And those species that depend on rotting logs and snags: are any of them endangered?” She tells him: everything depends on everything else. There’s a kind of vole that needs old forest. It eats mushrooms that grow on rotting logs and excretes spores somewhere else. No rotting logs, no mushrooms; no mushrooms, no vole; no vole, no spreading fungus; no spreading fungus, no new trees. “Do you believe we can save these species by keeping fragments of older forest intact?” She thinks before answering. “No. Not fragments. Large forests live and breathe. They develop complex behaviors. Small fragments aren’t as resilient or as rich. The pieces must be large, for large creatures to live in them.”

Trees and Puddles
Celebrate the nature we are – our Interdependence

Perception

This morning I’m with the beauty and wisdom in this Carol video, O Holy Darkness.

I remember taking a course in Child Psychology at UCLA when I was 18.  In 1968, we were propagandized that the “Communists” were programming their children. We had to fight back against that threat. Of course, our own propaganda was that we were the good guys and our children were allowed and given complete freedom and possibility in this “land of the free”.  

Angela Davis, an avowed Communist, came to teach and there was turmoil and concern. In order to work as a tour guide on campus, I had to sign that I was not a Communist.  I doubt I knew what that meant at the time. I knew my father believed in the Domino Theory and not wanting another World War II, he thought we were right to be in Vietnam.  He didn’t live long enough to learn the truth of that.

Now, we are trying to teach our children a more whole history.  Watch this beautiful movement into the embrace, the holy embrace, of wholeness.

Birth Days

My grandson turns two today.  He has a brand new sweatshirt with red fire trucks and a beautiful, sweet smile that continues to encompass more and more.

My heart balances on the beauty of this little being and the loss of Bella which still provides an ache, and yet, I feel her here.

A friend mentions this quandary – her absence and presence at one time which may be the contemplating step out of duality.  May this be so even as this child turning two walks into a future that cultivates peace and kindness, that honors the connections we share.

Shared birthday treats to celebrate one who is now two.

Unfolding

I’m writing postcards reminding or perhaps encouraging Democrats who voted in Virginia in 2020 to vote again in the upcoming VA election.

I think of the joy of writing a letter, hand-writing, then folding and placing it in an envelope to sail through the mail, and then, envision it unfolded and opened by another.

Shared touch that seems different than a text or email though information both ways is shared.

I’ve been noticing how sunlight lights and sparkles the line of quartz in rocks I treasure.  I have a children’s book that describes rocks like this as “Wishing Rocks”. Therefore, I move my finger along the line circling the middle of the rock and wish even as I imagine what it is like to be enfolded in a different kind of stone.

Each morning I read a poem written daily by Rosemary Wahtola Trommer.  Her son took his life recently, and she took a break from writing and sharing her poems, and now she writes of love and grief.  Her poems break open my heart, and sometimes I can’t go all the way through, and then, because I know it is essential, I do. 

You can read her poems here:

https://ahundredfallingveils.com

Harvest

It’s a beautiful fall morning.  My father, born in 1921, would have been 100 today.  He died in an accident in 1969.  He was 47, the age my oldest son is now.  Time.  Trust.    Today I’m with James Wright’s beautiful poem “A Blessing”.  There are so many ways to step out of our bodies and into blossom.  

A Blessing
Just off the Highway to Rochester, Minnesota
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

~ James Wright ~

The tide moves in and out
And we Bloom

Birth

Last night I was outside with the full moon, and now I receive the news that a baby we have been waiting for is born.  What a relief!  I know that childbirth in this country is mainly safe but years ago, a friend died in childbirth at a hospital in Palo Alto, and so I’m always on alert until the little being is through the canal and here, seen, and cared for.

Her mother had a tough and long labor and now this little girl is here and my grandson has a new cousin.  He loves music and rhythm, and so alive with vision and possibility, he channels Gene Krupa and the joy of playing the drums.   

The Reward for Labor