I'm going to sit right down and write myself a letter...

I will admit to a certain fondness for the often-reviled institution known as the "Christmas Letter" - we've all gotten them -- those missives tucked into Christmas Cards that outline all the successes of the previous year -- along the lines of:

"Bob finally was made president of the golf club, which is a miracle when you consider how much time he devoted to Doctor's Without Borders this year. Of course, both our sons are also physicians, and they were able to help him when they weren't busy immunizing Somalian children and raising money for Easter Seals (Bob Jr. is chapter chairman!). And we continue to be proud of little Susie who got a scholarship to dance with the Joffrey Ballet all the while maintaining her 4.0 grade point average and lettering in lacrosse."

Now do not misunderstand - most of the letters I receive, I greatly look forward to - I enjoy hearing about what folks have been up to - particularly those I don't get to see very often.

I'm referring to the over-the-top communiques - those letters that appear to only present the brilliance, with no regard for the everyday. I once got a letter that was so pretentious it actually required a dictionary to understand.

One line stuck with me: "After years of demonstrating her exceptional engineering acumen, Beth is now at the center of our domestic tranquility, managing our household with aplomb and much self-sacrifice."

Translation: Beth got fired from her job and is now a stay-at-home Mom.

It took me almost five minutes to figure it out.

And I'm a Phi Beta Kappa who, when I'm not busy saving the world one fundraising event at a time, spends her spare time creating sculpture out of recycled materials that I find while taking underprivileged children on nature walks. Of course, this is when I have a few spare minutes between teaching English as a second language and skydiving...

Oooo...better grab my pen...I sense a letter coming on...

;-)

Where have you gone Derry Daring?

When I was a kid, it seemed like every Christmas there was the ONE gift I wanted above and beyond all others - you recall it - that feeling of "if I don't get fill-in-the-blank" life will no longer be worth living.

The year I was 10, that gift was "Derry Daring."

What? You don't remember Derry Daring?

Derry Daring was a doll, slightly smaller than Barbie, who came with her own motorcycle and leather outfit. You placed her on the bike, and the bike on a gadget that you then wound up by hand. Once released, Derry would then shoot across the room, or over a ramp that you'd set up on the coffee table.

Think Evel Knievel for girls.

I wanted Derry Daring more than anything in 1976.

1976 was probably the last year I cared about toys and Derry represented everything I wanted to be: she was original, had long blonde hair (my Mom was still making me keep my hair short at that stage of life) and most of all, Derry Daring was, well, DARING.

She was fearless! Anything the boys could do - even Evel Knievel - Derry could do - oft-time BETTER!

I can remember having pre-holiday conversations with my Dad - who, of course, had a direct line to Santa Claus:

"A motorcycle chick? Really Lolly? You wouldn't rather have a life-sized Barbie head hair salon? Or maybe a Spirograph? How about some Weebles?"

Nope - I had my heart set on Derry Daring.

And Santa must have been paying attention that year - because unlike previous years when I had requested an Easy Bake Oven and a LiteBrite - Christmas morning the full Derry Daring play set was under the tree.

Overjoyed doesn't begin to capture how excited I was.

Derry and I were best buds the rest of my 5th grade year - long after my brother got sick of his Evel Knievel playset.

I think Derry was the last actual toy I ever asked Santa to deliver. In subsequent years, I recall well wishing for and receiving such gifts as a microscope, chemistry set, roller skates (with bright orange pom-poms!) and even a Commodore 64 computer.

Clearly post-Derry, my wishes well-corresponded with the person I am today.

But for one brief shining year, I was a daredevil - jumping over stacks of Matchbox cars in the backyard, long blonde hair shimmering from under my hot-pink motorcycle helmet.

Go Derry Daring Go!

I wanna do more than whistle under the mistletoe!

Okay, I admit it - I am a Christmas Carol junkie.

I LOVE Christmas music. And I love ALL of it - from the most sacred hymns to the secular goofy songs, down to and including anything by the Muppets.

There is room on my iPod for "O Holy Night" and "Jingle Bell Rock." And I'll sing both at the top of my lungs.

But as a child, my favorite Christmas songs all came from my four album set of Lawrence Welk Christmas Classics. You see, no one told me that Lawrence Welk was for old-timers and senior citizens back then -- I thought the champagne singers were the cat's pajamas!

My favorite tune? A little ditty called "I Wanna Do More Than Whistle" - it's a keeper, with classic lyrics like:

"My jingle bell heart is beating, it's time that our lips were meeting, come give me my season's greeting...under the mistletoe!

"Start kissing and please don't tarry, 'cause kissing is customary, soon it will be January...under the mistletoe!"

Catchy, huh?

I also loved the Peggy Lee hit "Don't Forget to Feed the Reindeer" - with its winsome words:

"So don't forget to feed the reindeer

Angels are friends of the reindeer too

And if you are a good little angel

Santa Claus will be good to you!"

Either one of these songs can instantly transport me back to my Dad's den, circa 1979, with the albums playing on the big stereo...

A few years ago, my sister found the Lawrence Welk albums on Ebay and gave them to me for Christmas - I almost cried I was so happy!

It was all there -- Guy, Ralna, Towering Tom Netherton, Mary Lou, even the Champagne Lady herself, Norma Zimmer, singing "Ave Maria."

One of the very best parts of the holiday season is reliving old memories and creating new ones - I can hardly wait to see what new memories will be added to the Christmas arsenal this year!

And now, if you'll excuse me, my husband's out of the house this evening and I'm going to fire up the ole phonograph...

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens...

Last year I wrote a silly "Favorite Things" blog entry, based on Oprah's annual show - where unsuspecting members of her studio audience received all kinds of glorious stuff...I wasn't going to do it again this year, but have had several emails from friends and family members requesting a new list, so here goes:

Lolly's Favorite Things - 2009 Edition

1. GLEE - I've loved watching the new Fox TV Show Glee since its first airing - the marriage of high school angst with musical theatre! My favorite Glee moment wasn't actually from the show itself...it was me asking my friend Kevin why he thought they portrayed the Glee Club kids as such misfits? After all, I was like that in HS, and I wasn't a geek...right? Kevin just looked at me and said, "Oh Laura..."

2. I've often said that BACON is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy, and 2009 was definitely the year I rediscovered bacon. From the Baconator at Wendy's to my obsession with the mere concept of chicken fried bacon to my discovery of Bacon Salt - it's all about the bacon. Which leads neatly into #3:

3. In October I began exercising regularly again (all that bacon!), and have taken up KICKBOXING - what a great cardio workout - not to mention a way to work out all of my frustration. And after accidentally kicking a fellow classmate on the first day, I am pleased to report that I've not injured anyone else - myself included!

4. What was I waiting for? In January 2009, we finally got high speed wireless internet here at Stately Stocker Manor...how in the world did we survive before we could carry our laptops from room to room? Many is the night you'll find both hubby and me both watching TV with laptops a-whirling...

5. Mr. Clean Magic Eraser - this little white sponge can clean up almost anything -- where have you been hiding all my life Mr. Clean? It takes marks off white walls, scuz and scum off the floors and shower walls, and bird scat off white pick-up trucks. Amazing!

6. Cecil Whitaker's Pizza - my first trip to St. Louis and my first exposure to this incredible ultra-flat pizza with Pravel cheese. Utterly delicious - can't wait to go back and eat more! A close second place to a restaurant chain called Steak n Shake - none in Central PA - but best milkshakes I've ever had - half chocolate, half vanilla! Plus they give you a really cool diner-style hat to wear!

7. Favorite Song of 2009 - "Take A Bow" as sung by Lea Michele in Glee:

"You put on quite a show, really had me going

Now it's time to go, curtain's finally closing..."

Of course I first heard this song moments after being told that my services would no longer be required at the company I'd helped found ten years earlier...

8. Kristin Chenowith - this pint-sized dynamo (who is probably sick to death of being called a pint-sized dynamo!) starred in my favorite now-defunct show "Pushing Daisies" - and made a hysterical guest appearance on Glee - singing my second favorite song of the year: "Alone" - originally made famous by Heart. Loved her new Christmas album and her autobiography published this year. The uber-talented Ms. Chenowith makes me want to be a better singer...a better writer...and a better Christian!

9. How in the world did I get to age 41 without having seen an IMAX movie? Went to my first IMAX 3-D movie this year - WHOA! I'm now ruined for other movie theatres -- the scope, the sound, the funny glasses!

10. Virginia Diner Peanuts - I've always been a lover of the nut, but these peanuts from Virginia are truly outstanding - and each is roughly the size of my pinky finger! These peanuts are like my own personal brand of crack - they are that good!

11. Biggest thrill of the year - riding the Superman roller coaster with my buddy Elliott at Great Adventure! BEST roller coaster EVER - and I'm not just saying that because it is modeled after my all time favorite superhero. You ride face down (and if you're like me, arms extended) and it really feels like you are flying! Unbelievable rush - can't wait to return next summer and try it again!

And it goes without saying that I continue to be loved and supported by friends and family - without whom the silly stuff mentioned above wouldn't have nearly as much meaning!

Cheers!

Soupy Sales and the Three Mrs. Kosses

Two days of sadness recently for the Baker clan - we lost two of our favorite people - Soupy Sales, and Mr. (Frank) Kos.

When I first met Soupy Sales, I didn't know he was famous - he was simply a friend of my Dad's coming into town to help with a March of Dimes telethon. He always called me "Nora" - even after I corrected him, saying that "Nora was a MUCH funnier name than Laura."

He also taught me the importance of the word "duck" - particularly when someone was approaching with a cream-based pie.

But what I liked best about Soupy was the way he and my Pop would banter - even though most of the time I had no idea what was so funny. I just loved hearing the two of them laugh.

I last spoke to Soupy right after my Dad died - he was unwell and unable to make the service - but wanted "Nora" and the gang to know that St. Peter was most likely waiting for my Pop with a cream-filled pie in his hands. Dad would have loved that!

My sister, Kath, emailed me to let me know that Mr. Kos had passed away. He was our neighbor for several years on Mercer Street in Harrisburg - and was almost as much of a hoot as Soupy was - albeit with a thick Slovakian accent. I loved listening to Mr. Kos talk - the rhythm of it - I was probably the only kid on the block who could imitate Mr. Kos perfectly.

One day, I was trying to impress the neighborhood kids with my Mr. Kos impersonation, not realizing the Mr. Kos was walking up the street behind me. I was so upset when I saw him - and was certain he would yell at me - or tell my Dad that I was making fun of him.

He did neither - simply told me to "watch my v's" if I wanted to truly sound Slovakian!

His then wife, the lovely Mrs. Kos, was a favorite of my sister Kathy. Each night, before bed, when she would say her prayers, they always ended the same way:

"...I pray the Lord my soul to take...God bless Daddy and Lolly and Paula and Grandma and Uncle Mike and Smokey and the three Mrs. Kosses."

There was, of course, only one Mrs. Kos - but trying to convince a three-year-old of that was near impossible - so for years she asked God's blessing for all three of them.

I think in honor of both of them, I will speak with a slovac accent for the rest of the day, and make Soupy's favorite dish: Chicken Catch A Tory!

:)

Heavy is the head that wears the crown...

I have always had an affinity for crowns and tiaras, and count many among my collection -- but was reminded earlier today of one of my more embarrassing "crowning achievements" -- the time I accidentally got Miss Universe's crown stuck on my head.

Yes, you read that correctly -- I actually got Miss Universe's crown stuck on my head -- in front of witnesses no less. And yes - it was, as pictured above. All five pounds of it.

I was in my mid-twenties and working PR at Hersheypark. Miss Universe Dayanara Torres (later married to Marc Anthony if you follow such things) and her chaperone were doing a bit of publicity at a local Ronald McDonald house. I got a call early in the day that summer asking if we would 'comp' Miss Universe (she apparently loved roller coasters) if she would agree to pose for some photos. I happily said yes.

She was lovely - although didn't speak a word of English, and, wearing her crown, posed for many photos with our Chocolate characters and some tourists. Before heading out into the park to play, her chaperone asked if they could leave her rather large crown at Guest Relations - they would then pick it up on their way out at the end of the day.

Once again, I happily said yes.

The crown was mammoth - and when not on Miss Universe's head, lived in a heavy mahogany box lined with velvet.

Miss Universe dashed off into the park, leaving this box in my hands.

I, along with two or three of the young gals working in Guest Relations, watched her walk away. They then turned to me, all of us staring at the box in my hands.

I believe my exact words were along the lines of: "I don't know about you guys, but I am trying this thing on!"

And I did!

We went into the back room - which had a mirror - and I had that thing out of the box and on my head in five seconds flat. And it felt GOOD. And looked even better! I must have admired myself in the mirror for several minutes whilst the others argued about who would try it on next.

Then I went to take it off -- and it was STUCK. Somehow with all my posing and preening, I'd managed to get strands of my then long hair wound around the little jewels going around the base of the crown. And it wasn't coming off - no way, no how.

Our giggles turned to horror as we realized just how stuck it was.

In the middle of all of this, my friend Mark came in to Guest Relations -- "Did I miss seeing Miss Universe?" -- and found me sitting on the floor, crown stuck to my head with two young girls attempting to cut my hair out of it with manicure scissors.

I think his parting words before turning and walking away were: "I don't want to know - I just do not want to know."

After what seemed like an hour, they managed to extricate the crown from my head and we packed it away.

We all agreed that the less said, the better.

Hours later, I got a call from Guest Relations that Miss Universe had come back for the crown, and did I want to come down and say good-bye?

I passed. I figured it best not to put a face to the blonde hairs she'd probably be picking out of her crown for weeks to come.

Back to School

In the twin boroughs of Annville/Cleona, Monday marks the official first day of school for students.

I used to both love and dread the first day of school as a kid.

On the one hand, I was one of those kids who found summer “boring” – despite my Mom’s best efforts to keep us busy with sports, vacations, and library cards. On the other hand, I loved being out of doors, playing “Charlie’s Angels” with my sisters, getting into trouble in the woods, and stalking the ice cream truck. One infamous summer, I walked around the ‘hood for weeks with an old fashioned tape recorder doing “man on the street” interviews – much to the neighbors chagrin!

Another summer, my sisters and I spent two months choreographing our own four person production of Grease.

But by the middle of August, I was always ready to return to the dusty halls of Lower Dauphin.

The days leading up to the first day of school were always fraught with anxiety for me – back-to-school shopping (I was always one of those fashion “don’ts” you see in magazines), wondering what classes I’d be in (we never got our final scheduled until day 1), and fretting over where I’d sit for lunch...and with whom.

By the night before the first day of school, I’d be a nervous wreck.

My much more outgoing sisters would be excited to see their friends – and would have spent the day trying on outfit after outfit, trying to find the perfect “first day” clothes.

I’d be worrying about whether or not taking both AP calculus and analysis first semester had been a good idea.

Frankly, I just hoped (and prayed!) that my clothes would match. That no one would make fun of me and that I wouldn’t have to sit alone at lunch.

To the school world at large, I’m sure I seemed like a somewhat confident, dare I say gifted student, who studied hard, had more than her share of leads in school plays, and was utterly focused on getting into college.

But inside, I was shy smart kid, who was more comfortable on stage than off.

The day before the first day of school always ended the same way – with my father drugging me.

Yup – you read that right – he would see me work myself up into such a state, that around bed time, he’d come into my room and give me half a Valium to help me sleep. This became a day-before-the-first-day-of-school tradition for the two of us. It was our little secret.

Years later, he told me he actually gave me half a baby aspirin – a placebo – and like Dumbo with his feather, that half a baby aspirin did the trick – and helped me fly back to school each Autumn.