I yam what I yam and that's all what I yam...

The alarm didn't go off.  I don't set one.  I'm old, retired.  I did awaken to internal shaking, tremors, heart palpitations, my REM's had left such a clatter...

Anudder dream... of yesteryear... slighly different set...timeline.. same characters. One'a them 'whew' dreams.  "It was just a dream."  I knew it wasn't Groundhog's Day, it was Christmas.

Oh yes it's Christmas, my favorite time of the year.. All the joy you dreamed of.. love in the atmosphere.  Oh Merry Christmas.. From me to you.. Merry Christmas.. May all your dreams come true..

Then, I did what I always do at 3am (yes, 3am, not to worry, went to bed at 8, all good). I made coffee. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, go directly to Facebook. So I did.

There were some GORGEOUS Merry Christmas postings, yum. Pics of kiddos from the night before staring at the gifts under the tree... and then that one post:

"Looking at life in the rear view mirror reveals your destiny."

I like the person who posted this, in fact he guides me on my Medicare Supplemental selection annually.  I also get the drift of the post, ya can't go forward using the rear view mirror for GPS.... but...

This is where those of you who've read here before will think "Oh crap, here he goes witha blog about yesteryear 'cause we know how much he likes yesteryear."

So, here goes a blog about yesteryear, 'cause you all know how much I like yesteryear.

We've all lost loved ones... again, I know this isn't what the poster was talking about, and he's right.. but too, the rear view mirror, according to Popeye, Dr. Phil, Joyce Brothers, I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam (because of, and thanks to) the rear view mirror.

I see mom there.  Dad too. My sister.  Loving grandparents, aunts, uncles, wonderful friends not afforded the opportunity to be here today.

I see........ weather outside that's frightful.   Christmas bulbs that heat up and boil the liquid inside so it jumps, bubbles, - and one wonders now why the cedar tree grandpa cut down off that country road didn't burst aflame.  I see stringed tinsel, so silvery and shiny.  I see popcorn on strings about the tree. I couldn't do that nowadays. I'm too fat, half the bag would be gone before I ever got the needle threaded.

I see the dinner table and all that fancified china granny gets out once a year. I see her apron.  I hear her, my mom, my aunts, singing and talking away in the kitchen.  I see my cousins and I playing tackle football out in the front yard, thank goodness I was 3 years older, 40 pounds heavier. I see a living room so fulla loving family, I didn't get claustrophobic because I didn't know what it was, nor how to spell it.

I remember hopping in the car in Liberty to head to my grandparents in Fulton, MO.  Driving down the 2 lane road, the predecessor to I-70. At least once, sometimes twice even, en route, dad would pass someone.  My sister and I clapped as he did. My folks grew up in Fulton.  I remember being 7 and being confused as we crossed the Boonville bridge and mom sighed, "ahhhh, I'm home."

I remember Christmas Eve dad and my uncles going 'bowling', but somehow coming home smelling of Schlitz.  I remember my sister being a year, maybe two past the 'having, enjoying a doll, dollhouse age'.. and she and my cousin stomping a huge, beautiful brand spankin' new metal doll house to smithereens in the backyard.

I remember the Billy Graham quotes on the wall.  Grandma and grandpa driving us from their house to my cousin's house a mile away.  Grandma hollering at grandpa as he drove 27 mph down the 25 mph street "Man! MAN!  You're gonna kill these children!"  I don't even remember if we had seat belts back then, don't think so.

I remember every year driving by the life size Santa looking out and waving from the 2nd floor balcony of the huge mansion at the beginning of Court Street. (Akin to Main Street leading to the Square in many a town.)

Forever etched are the Christmas Carols..  and then, the singers that sang 'em still with us:  Burl, Dean, Frank, Bing, Nat, Ella...

I remember, until I retired, those were the last times (oh, ages 6 thru 12) that I (and my cousins) awakened at 3am to wake up mom and dad to open presents.

I remember the time being just about the happiest I've ever been in life. It'll last forever, we never thought otherwise.

I remember how sad Christmas was the year my cousin spent in Viet Nam.  In looking back, I am so thankful my grandparents lived , very much 'with it' mentally until their end, and pretty much physically able until just before their end.

I remember "Mark, set, GO" to open presents, and, my grandmother, raised in the depression, soon after gathering the shreds of the wrapping paper to save the big pieces for the next Christmas.

I remember Uncle Tom, a bachelor for life, being there for Christmas. My grandmother's brother who had no place to go for Christmas, so grandma assured he had a place to go.

Yes, at this point, my destiny is all about working part time at a golf course until I can't.  Playing golf until I can't. Watching, loving grand kids as they sprout all too swiftly.  And then I'll probably forget my name, pee my pants, and be a kid all over again.

Fer sure, FORWARD MARCH.  But too, look with loving eyes into that rear view mirror.

We yam what we yam because of that mirror.  Objects today, for the most part, larger.

By Henry Hallmark Gibson.. forward (and look backward) by Gene Autry

Love, Victurd