Yes, I am aware that I am more or less a month late in writing about this. I apologize for how long it's been--I care about each of you deeply, even if I have not had much time to write.
After my father and I got to sing in a rousing Christmas cantata at my church, my family packed its bags and drove into the night, only to arrive at my aunt's house in Napa at four in the morning the next day. After a few hours of sleep, we took off towards Oakland to usher for the Calfornia Christmas Revels.
Arriving at the edge of Lake Merrit felt like home. Embracing old friends, standing once more in the Scottish Rite Theatre--it was all so wonderfully familiar, and filled a deep soul need. Seeing the eccentric dress of the Bay Area theatregoers, hearing the brass fanfare, the smell of the must--all of it was a "Welcome Home." I was eager to catch up with the Pleasant Hill students I missed, but I did manage to watch the show. My friend Janet was radiant in a glittering emerald green gown. She did not recognize me until we passed during Lord of the Dance second show, and her surprised joy was delightful to see. The show itself was tightly constructed, woven around the story of Sir Gawain and the green Knight. It did great good to hear the familiar music and to see the faces of the Revels cast.
Monday, we ventured to Walnut Creek to do some last-minute shopping and to get our hair cut. Salon Indulge, where our friend Sabrina Brinley works, is full of comforting textures and smells. Catching up with her was half the joy of it; getting my hair cut was just a plus. It's not that I'm too lazy to find a place to get my hair cut near where I live, although that's a part of it; there's just a certain joy to having a friend, rather than a disinterested stranger, wave scissors over your head.
To use up some time share points, my parents and I spent two nights in Tahoe. This was a time to catch up on sleep by the cozy fire, to pity the Hawaiian stranger who had come all the way to California to be greeted with absolutely no snow. Halfway through our visit, we took a drive around the lake and went to see Hugo, an incredible film. I hope it will reawaken interest in many of the old silent films it quotes; there is something glorious about seeing them on a big screen.
We took our time getting out of Tahoe, stopping at gift stores and a vegetarian restaurant named Sprouts. Along our way, we stopped also in Placerville, and put red poinsettias on Justin and Grandpa Leonard's graves. I wanted to put movie popcorn on Justin's grave, also, to honor his movie-loving memory, but Mom thought it would be in poor taste. I had not been there in a while, and I noticed that the granite is already starting to distort with time.
In the evening, my father and I went to Pizzeria Travigne in St. Helena to visit a pair of old friends of his. The food was incredible, and the conversation both fascinated me and taught me a good deal I could apply another venture I've been participating in of late: a new media ministry. Listening to these media veterans tell their stories was inspiring, challenging in the greater scope of what it takes to do well at it, and incredibly interesting.
The next day, we drove up valley, where we indulged in Giugni's sandwiches, the rich flavors stirring up intoxicating memories of last year. We drove to the castle near Calistoga, which was decorated with wreaths for various charities. The cellar's gift shop was full of rich textures and scents, from citrus to must. From there, we continued back to Walnut Creek for the annual (and, sadly, most likely the last) Christmas caroling party at the house of our dear friends, the McMillans.
I sat down next to my father at the piano and bravely sight-read a good many complex 14th-century Christmas carols before I bowed out to talk with my friend--no, sister--Caroline. Although this has been a holiday ritual for many years now, there was a special sense both of basking in the presence of beloved friends and of sadness in the knowledge that we were all parting ways--geographically, at least. The man who had played merlin at Revels did some amazing close-up sleight of hand for all of us, weaving his tricks with wonderful stories. He closed with a speech on the nature of mystery and deception and the humility that stage magic gives you about these things. A mystery: life tends to rhyme with itself, even if it never fully repeats. Will my friends and I ever live near to each other again? Will we ever sing those crazy-hard Christmas carols in their living room again? A decade of my life has called their house another home to me. As we have moved to LA, and they to Los Alamos, I can only hope we continue to strengthen that long-reaching friendship.
The morning of Christmas Eve, the whole family attended Napa Community Church's Christmas program. It was good to see two of my mentors there--Marvin Wray and Roy Ice, and to hear Gary Piner's orchestra. The music Gary chose had excellent emotional depth to it. It was equally refreshing not to be concerned with taking copious notes on the service. Lisa's tree in the foyer sparkled with purple and gold--a sight well worth seeing. The whole family enjoyed a good lunch at Compadre's, laughing and talking. The real party was yet to come, though.
After sundown, the party was massive. Everyone was there. I can't remember the last time I'd seen everyone from the extended family assembled in one room. Lisa had transformed her garage into a dining room glittering with decorations and shining with candles. The meal included the best of everyone's culinary delights--Amy's bread, Doreen's soup, various exotic cheeses, Christmas punch, and Grandma Anabel's almond bark. The "As Seen on TV" exchange was a real hoot. People actually got into stealing items this time, and there were enough of us to create an element of surprise.
As the evening wore on, I enjoyed watching my cousin Sam gazing at a fish lamp his mother had won in the exchange. It's nice to know that even though he's growing fast, he's still got a sense of child-like wonder.
On Christmas morning, my "adopted younger brother" called us all the way from the Philippines. He did not have much time to talk, but it was good to hear his voice. Christmas brunch was a glorious array of fritata, biscuits, and coffee. We barely had a chance to digest that before it was time for Christmas dinner at my great grandmother's place in Yountville. And what a feast! Walla-walla loaf, potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, and Martinelli's--it was like Thanksgiving for Christmas. We retired to upstairs, where we all indulged in lazy conversation as my parents and I worked on a puzzle. Several hours later, when the puzzle was finally finished, we scoped out the lights in Napa, soaking in the last of the festively glittering Christmas cheer.
I spent the day after Christmas visiting friends in Angwin. Something about Silverado Trail and Sanitarium Road seems to welcome me every time I drive them. Even though I returned to campus no longer a student, I felt like I belonged there. Just like the sense of homecoming I experienced in Oakland, I felt like I was at home in that misty forest high above the Napa Valley.
Our last appointment of the trip was a rehearsal for a magnificent concert--which will be the subject of another episode of Jillian's Journeys sometime soon. All in all, the trip did my soul great good, and I was glad to see so very many of you on it. I'm learning to love LA again--after all, I was born here--but I will always have a piece of my heart that belongs to the Bay Area and the Napa Valley.
So, a month late, I wish you all the goodwill of a Merry Christmas. After all, what silly rule says we can only celebrate the birth of a Savior--and the love He represents--one day of the year?
