HO HO HUMBUG!

Yeah-yeah. Been a long while since I've posted. This is a big one with lotsa' pictures (and a video!), so hold onto your pants and apples.

The holidays are over and people are back to work again, returning like weary soldiers from the front line ready to fall back into their day-to-day's. Everyone will be fondly remembering their holidays and sharing anecdotes. Each year Christmas is a big honkin' deal. It's candy-colored wonderment, packages, treats, surprises, and warm happy feelings...

Ha! And Schindler thought HE had a big list!

...and it's a a big honkin pain-in-the-ass. Christmas is my least favorite holiday for a combination of reasons. Retailers make most of their profits for the year at Christmastime so they start promoting it mid-October in order to start the buying frenzy. (Didn't work too well this year given the blight on the economy)... but people still got the "Christmas crazies", they rushed around, drove like idiots, and got pushy and rude like they do every year...

It's beginning to look a lot like Crapmas!

And then there's all the expectations. Not the expectations for a wondrous holiday, - no - the expectations and anxiety regarding, travel, presents and-- did the cards all get sent? Did the right people get "Happy Holidays" vs. "Merry Christmas" or "Joyous Season" lest someone be offended...

What?... No Happy Birthday Jesus?! Why the NERVE!

And if you are one who is offended by Happy Holidays vs. Merry Christmas or vice-versa, get over yourself, consider yourself lucky that you even GOT a card and be gracious for the goodwill you selfish bastard. And please, PLEASE if you're going to send out pictures with your Christmas/Holiday/Kwanzaa/Festivus card, don't only send pictures of your kids.

Mmm, Chris is growing up to be quite the young woman.

No offense, but I probably don't know your kids, never met them, and in some cases I never will meet them. I'm sure they're nice, brilliant, amazing little people and future felons, but I don't care. I wanna see pictures of you first and foremost. Send a picture of YOU with your kids. I don't care how fat or bald you are. Once a year YOU take the time to communicate with ME - and I do the same with you so let's see your flabby old self with your kids. A family picture is perfect. Which brings me to... the Christmas letter. DON'T! Just, don't. Unless it's brief, clever, and really witty, and for the love of crap don't make it ALL about your kids if you do decide to write one. (see previous paragraph).

I wasn't always down on Christmas. Not when I was a kid. Back then, Christmas was like winning the lottery every December 25th. What's not to like about Christmas at that age?

My first Christmas. Denver Colorado.

Maaaaahm! Stop lookin' at Dad and hand over the package!

As a wee one I LOVED Christmas. I was a first generation kid growing up on Rudolph, Frosty, the Grinch, and Charlie Brown, etc. Ah, happy times.


My absolute favorite toys as a little kid were these two items:

Wish I still had mine, these babies are worth a MINT nowadays.

Nothing spells fun like high-heat and molten plastic!
Back when toys were toys and they helped weed out the weak kids.

Since my family lived in northern Illinois we generally would have a good heavy snowfall around Christmas, so my memories of that time look like this:

The house in Geneseo where I grew up.

My street back when I was a yoot.

But as I grew up, my love of Christmas began to fade...

So long childhood! See ya' again--- never!
Don't look back...because--- I'm gonna eat Rudolph.

As an adult I grew less n' less thrilled with Christmas. Typically around Christmas became the time of year when I had break-ups with girlfriends, had gotten dumped or in a fight, had been sick, or had family members fall ill (my father frequently in later years). The stress is high, you're rushing around, dealing with travel, relatives, and overloaded with tasks for the holidays it's just all one big headache. I've learned to despise this time of year and just endure it.

Hands down my favorite holiday of all is Halloween. I love horror and autumn and candy. It's a simple holiday devoid of any overt religious overtones and just plain fun.

Be honest, do I have seeds in my teeth?

Thanksgiving is my next favorite because it's a time to get together with friends and loved ones with no pressure other than just having a wonderful meal and being together.

Okay Redcloud. You can have a taste, but then we're going
to have to insist that you and your friends leave.

Neither Halloween nor Thanksgiving are the maelstrom of emotion, stress, and pressure that is Christmas. And I like that.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a total Grinch, however I find so much of Christmas annoying, but I'm getting better with it and learning to enjoy it more-- partly because so much of my family has passed on over the recent years, there's just myself, my mom, my brother and sister left. However, since getting married my new family has grown with Emily, her sister and her husband and well as Emily's parents. The holiday has taken on a new, more positive dynamic.

Zuzu... stop! ... choking... can't... breath... life... flashing before my eyes...

This year we got to spend time with good friends, going out for a holiday dinner...

Nothing says "Christmas" quite like a diaper right at nose level.

Emily LOVES Christmas, and I have to admit that her enthusiasm for the holiday is infectious. For the first time since I've lived in my house it was decorated beyond just an obligatory string of lights on the porch to appease the neighbors.

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, my light bill's high!

We even had a little Christmas village set up inside...

Yo! HEY! I'm freezin' my chestnuts here!

We had not one, but TWO Christmas trees - one in the living room...

It's not our main tree, it's just one of our branches.

...and one in our Tiki Room.

Happy Hula Days!

With all this, I couldn't help but grudgingly start to enjoy Christmas this year.

Me and Emily, beaming with that yummy holiday glow.
It's the hat what makes it all so special.

My sister and Mom visited for the week over Christmas. While normally this would have been one of those stressful things I dread about the Holidays, it turned out to be great.

Jenny, Mom (LeJean), Emily and me.
Totally candid picture, not posed at all. We stand around like this for hours.

We had a chance to have fun and do some touristy stuff like go to Disneyland, do some sightseeing, and shoot up to Santa Barbara for some wine tasting.

My teeth are purple, but I'm not drunk... are you drunk?

Okay, now we're drunk.

There were plenty of other fun activities to fill the time, like Wii bowling with Mom...

Yes mom, every frame can be a "beer frame" if you want.

And cookie decorating...

Later we'll have nap time and a snack, now shut up and sprinkle!

Finally the big day arrived. You can't help but be a little giddy with excitement, wondering what treasures you'll find under the tree.

HO-YEAH! Christmas ain't a total loss, I got me some SCOTCH!

My sister Jenny and her new coin pooch.
I'm sure it's something she really wanted.

There were also the calls to the rest of our family members who couldn't be present. My brother Scott called from Boston just as Emily was setting up an iChat with her family in Florida, so we had two coast-to-coast visits happening at once as you can see in the short video below:

Yes, so I ended up feeling a little left out... but things were about to get better. A day or so later a package arrived from Emily's parents -- more Christmas presents! The box was late in arriving, so we had 2nd Christmas!

Oh yeah, the tree's all loaded up for a second time!

Among the great gifts sent, I received a cool hovering pen, clock, and note set!

(GASP of amazement!)

Looking back it was a great Christmas. Despite all the headaches that come with the season, and despite all my bitching about disliking Christmas, if I reach deep down I can still find that little spark of excitement that I had when I was a little one, surrounded by those who loved me.

Lyle & LeJean (my parents), me, Gladys & Powers (my mom's parents)

It's no so much a memory as it is a feeling. It's that feeling that all children get at Christmas and one that as an adult I'm happy I've found again.

Li'l Tommy Hart - 10 months old and ready for his first Christmas.

Over Time

Recently got to thinking about how much I love (and miss the Muppets). Sadly the classic Muppet characters are now owned by Disney and, except for being seen sparingly in some of the Disney preschool productions, Kermit, Miss Piggy, et al are likely to be doomed to history, vaulted away and replaced by lesser, but I suppose more "relevant" characters to drive the Mouse's bottom-line. To me, the Muppets will remain timeless.

Several years ago a French student film made the rounds. It was a tribute to Jim Henson and the Muppets, directed by: Oury Atlan, Thibaut Berland, and Damien Ferri. The film won numerous festival awards. The plot follows a group of puppet creatures reminiscent of Kermit who reverse their roles of puppet and puppeteer, manipulating their deceased creator. While this sounds morbid, the film is quite touching, a little creepy, and yet moving, amusing, and haunting. (Note: the video below starts in black with music, takes a few seconds to get rolling so be patient.)

My Dad

Okay, a giant post, sorry... but there's a fun video at the end! Ho boy!

First let's start with ME! Because that's when I met my dad, when I was first me. That's me below, li'l melon-head Tommy only a month or two after I was born. I've got a serious diaper problem happening.

Yo! Can I get some powda' here?! I'M CHAFING!

Okay, enough about me. Back to my Dad, and let's get through the depressing stuff first, Dad's no longer around, I'd say that we lost him back in 2004, but that sounds like he went missing under the sofa cushions and he's bound to turn up next time we clean. No, he passed away four years ago this past September 28th, after many years of struggling with a failing heart. But Dad was a fighter and hung on for years and managed to get around pretty much on his own up until his final year - during which time my Mother shouldered the huge responsibility of caring for him. Then in 2004 Dad disappeared into the sofa cushions with all the pocket change that I'll never see again.

Recently I got to thinking about him and missing him. I don't have any drama to write about with my father, no lurking unresolved issues, nothing like that. In fact I even got to say good-bye to him just a few of days before he died. I loved my father and felt like we got along great, other than my normal teen-angst years when everyone has issues with their parents. Otherwise there was nothing bad or damaging about my relationship with him. And as I grew into an adult, our relationship only got better... although that time shared with him was far too brief.

My Dad, Lyle Hart, was born on August 2nd, 1932 in Alliance Nebraska. His father was a farmer and had a fair bit of land where they grew corn and beans. My Dad's first house when he was a child was a sod house. Yep, a house constructed out of blocks of grass and earth out on the prairie. That's it in the picture below. Dad's about 3 yrs. old there, and showing his early propensity for wearing silly hats.

When I get older, I'm gonna getta' mow the house!

As cliched as it is to say, Dad came from humble beginnings growing up in the heartland.

Lyle at 17, jacking cars in rural Nebraska.

I don't know what Dad was like when he was growing up, but from what I can tell he was well-liked. I'm betting he was a regular guy from farm country. Dad was very bright and creative and did not want to get stuck working a farm for his entire life - a source of friction between he and his father from what I understand. So consequently, he left the farm to make his way in the world.

Dad served in the U.S. Air Force during the Korean War. He worked as a cryptographer, encoding and typing military messages. He was stationed in Germany during his years in the military, and from his stories seemed to love his time overseas.

Dad at 19, in the Air Force during the Korean War.

In the above picture, that he'd sent home to his parents, Dad is copying his father's military photo from WWI (below). He'd written on the back, "Okay, so it isn't as sharp as Papa's" And no, it certainly wasn't.

My grandfather (Clarence Hart) circa 1917 WWI
Dig them crazy pants!

Yeah... I'm trying to figure out the math too on how my Grandfather served in the First World War since that would seem more like something my GREAT Grandfather would have done. Grandpa Hart died when I was around 7. He may have married late and had Dad when he was a little older, I'm not sure. Both sides of my family have longevity in their genes. The most plausible explanation is that Clarence constructed a time-machine out of a tractor and went back to fight the Kaiser.

Yankee-doodle this! I'll see you bastards in Versailles!

Dad went to college but he never completed his degree and was only a few hours short of getting his BA. Something that I think annoyed him the rest of his life, but did not seem to hinder his success.

Dad was always interested in art, theatre, photography, and filmmaking. He worked his adult life making industrial and educational films. While he was working in Denver Colorado as a cameraman he met my mom (LeJean) who was working as a teacher.

LeJean & Lyle

Actually, Dad was given mom's number by a guy in a bar, he called the number and that's how they met. Seriously. And then a year or so later I arrived.

You drop me old man and I'm calling child services!

Mom and Dad then moved to Lawrence Kansas, where Dad worked for Centron Films. Centron Studios was a complete film studio right in the middle of the country that made industrial and educational films, and one cult feature film: Carnival of Souls. Herk Harvey, the director was one of my dad's close friends.

Me and Mom at our family's first house in Lawrence Kansas... this was BS (before siblings).

Me getting ready for my fourth birthday!

It's birthday time beoches!
Dad's not happy about the gang-signs I'm flashin'.

I have vivid memories of the time when we lived in Lawrence. As I said, Centron was a motion picture studio, complete with a large sound stage. Their industrial clients were national and international corporations and very often would include big-name (or biggish) name talent for their productions like: Rowan & Martin, George Goebel, Jessie White, Eddie Albert, Don Johnson, and so on. Dad would often bring me along on shoots. When I was very little, I remember getting to meet Ed Ames who offered me a bite of an apple he was eating.

Me and Dad on a blacksmith's set at Centron.

To me this was Hollywood-- and in a way, it wasn't too far off. I even got a chance to do some acting. I was featured in several educational films, even one where it looks like I get run over by a car because I didn't observe the walk signals.

My brother Scott, Lyle, LeJean and me at my Mom's parent's house in Parkridge Ill.
This was right after Dad lost his father.

Dad later accepted a job with Deere & Company in the Quad Cities making industrial films, so the rest of my growing up was in a tiny town in the middle of farm country in Illinois. Dad had not wanted to be a farmer, but his profession had kept him close to farming.

As I said, there was no drama or issues between me n' Dad. He could be strict, but never unfairly so. He had a great sense of humor. While he was conservative in his views he was socially very liberal and fair. Except for that time he tried to murder a Canadian family that homesteaded in our garage, but they were asking for it and I have to court papers to prove it.

Dad with a pillow my sister made for him at Christmas.

Dad had a silly sense of humor, and didn't mind looking silly himself. Below is a picture of him wearing a wig my mother had purchased when she was going through chemo for cancer (she has since recovered).

Does the price tag make me look cheap?

Oh, and the silliness didn't stop at wigs. Nope. Dad had tons of HATS. Whenever I'd see him I never knew if he'd be wearing a cowboy hat, farmer's seed cap, straw hat, pork-pie hat, you name it.

Dad looking dapper in his Russian sailor's cap.

When I became an adult, my father's taste in clothing and hats was endearing and amusing to me. Back when I was a teen though, I was horrified. One of my most embarrassing moments happened the summer of my junior year in High School. I'd gotten a job at a local car dealer painting their sale banners on their showroom windows. This was a bonus, since the daughter of the dealership was a fellow classmate and a hottie whom I was hoping to ask out. Well, my first day working, late in the afternoon, the dealer's daughter comes out to bring me a drink, and she's actually talking to me! We were just starting to hit it off when I heard the familiar sound of a small gas engine putt-putt putting off in the distance... it was Dad. He had a little Honda 90 trail bike that he'd zip around town on in good weather. He thought he'd pay me a visit at work. DAMN! Well... a visit from your parents when you're a teen trying to act cool in front of a chick is bad enough, but add to this how my dad was dressed:

He was wearing these awful tie-died/bleached cut-offs, a bright yellow tank-top that was covered in CB phrases from the 70's with things like "Ten-four good buddy" and "Put the pedal to the metal" and "We gotta' convoy!" And to top it all off, Dad was sportin' a big ol' cowboy hat and cowboy boots (remember, he's wearing shorts). Ugh... Oh the humanity of it all!

I wanted to choke myself on a paintbrush and die right there. Now that I think about it, his visit was probably very brief, but to me it seemed an eternity. Eventually Dad went on his way to finish his errands. As he left, the dealer's daughter looked to me, shook her head and said, "Sometimes dads are such dorks".

Yes. Yes they are. But now, it's moments like that one that I recall fondly and wouldn't change. Well, except I would have liked to have gotten a date with the dealer's daughter, but that didn't happen.

TRIVIA TIME: Dad had told me the reason I was named "Tom" was because his mother would always call him Tom when he was growing up. He didn't know why she did this, his name was Lyle after all. But she always called him Tom, so the name got passed on to me. However, I did find out from my Grandmother the reason, it was because growing up on a farm they had lots of cats around. And she said Dad was like a tomcat, always running around. So it was Tom for "tomcat". I was happy that I was able to share this bit of info with Dad.

Dad at the Alamo... looking to rent a car.
(Ha! No one's ever said that before I bet.)

The last five years or so of Dad's life, when his health started failing, I made sure to visit him and Mom for the Holidays. I'm very glad that I did because we had some nice quiet Thanksgivings and Christmases together. I also got to have some good talks with Dad during this time.

Dad and Jenny (my sister) at Christmas 2003
Fighting over gifts, as usual.

Mom and Dad would split their time between Nebraska (where he was from) and Arkansas (where she was from). They would spend the winter months in Arkansas, then the summer in Nebraska. When Dad got very ill in Arkansas he really wanted to return to the little town in Nebraska where he'd grown up, Riverdale. He said he wanted to go home and sit on his porch. Which he did, and I'm glad he was able to.

Below is a short video I shot in 2001 while visiting Mom and Dad in Arkansas for Christmas. I was demonstrating to Dad my new camera and how quickly video could be edited on my Mac laptop. It's a cute slice of my parents together.

I got married this past year in Hawaii and really wish Dad could have been at the wedding.

Me and Emily after the ceremony.

Dad never got a chance to meet Emily I'm sure he would have loved her.

The Harts in Hawaii
Jenny, LeJean, Scott, Tom

However, perhaps it's fortunate that Emily never saw him dressed in his shorts, tank-top, cowboy hat, and boots - I dunno, add a lei and he would have been dressed for Hawaii. Dad would have had a great time.