Skating on the Holidays

On the day before Christmas, I went with my uncle, aunt, and cousin to skate at the Squaw Valley Olympic rink. Only my cousin and I intended to skate; she is an figure skater, while I use hockey skates. We took the gondola up. I cannot call it a cable car, since 'cable car' indicates something else to me as a San Franciscan. The gondola which was packed tight with a melange of nationalities, including Russian who were either temperamental or merely sounded that way due to the harshness of the Scythian tongue. The gondola scaled the cliff over the houses until it became vertical and swang over the precipice, then dipped slightly, and went over the next precipice. I am profoundly glad that I do not have vertigo, but the tiniest touch of dizziness while staring down at the candid abyss is quite thrilling.

Once we arrived at the open air ice rink, I rented some K2 hockey skates, which were too soft to do proper crossovers, as well as locked in terms of the top fastener, although my inability to skate backwards is entirely my fault. I handed over my camera to my uncle and aunt, but few of the pictures came out, through a combination of sun and ice. Fortunately, I have upgraded to a digital camera, despite lingering Luddite tendencies (the dislike, rather than the smashing), so the surviving pictures were quite sufficient. As my cousin and I circled the rink, always in the same direction - I would have expected that the direction would be changed after the zamboni had smoothed the ice - we had a nice chance to chat. My other, older cousins had a chance to play together up at Tahoe, but this one was too young, and my parents too wearied, to enjoy this experience.

That night, Dad and I went the 9:00 Christmas Eve carol service, which involved candles in a cup and no communion (although Christ the King Lutheran does not celebrate communion as often as the Episcopal Church). Pastor Chip is a good preacher, but his sermon was middling in content as well as delivery. After three other services I can't fault him on weaker delivery, but I can understand why Won Jae Hur, the interim pastor at my church in San Francisco, chose to have guest preachers throughout the Advent season.

Christmas Day itself is a matter for the family alone, so I shall say no more about it.

On the feast of Stephen, or Boxing Day, we breakfasted late but well. I once again went to Squaw with my cousin. Instead of going to open air rink at the top of the mountain, however, we went to the minuscule rink which is part of the Resort at Squaw Creek (over dinner, my brother explained who owned which bits at Squaw). At first I forgot to specify hockey skates, and the apathetic Russian teenage attendant gave me figure skates - I had forgotten that guys who do not skate regularly use generic ice skates, not hockey skates. After two changes of skates, I finally found a pair that suited me. The circumference of the rink was restricted, but I could adjust to that circumstance. The scarring of the ice, however, was so severe that more than one person remarked that the skating was better outside the rink than in it. I tried skating on the inside of the rink rather than the periphery, but it was not much better and it was much tighter - I'm a hockey player, not a figure skater! My cousin took little girls in hand and became absorbed in teaching them. I did a fair bit of skating, but I also watched the Squaw Valley dog sled take off. The dogs were barking and bouncing up and down, but once the signal was given, they disappeared in a flash. We supped that night at the Six Peaks Grille at the Resort, which was considerably fancier than the places I favor, but it was delicious and filling, and what more can you ask of a good meal?

Cathedral at the Foreign Cinema

On Thursday, my first alma mater, Cathedral School for Boys, held a party down in Mission at the Foreign Cinema, whose name perplexed me when I looked into the matter. It wasn't a cinema (although it does project movies), but I couldn't tell what fraction was a bar and what fraction a restaurant without a personal inspection.

Once I arrived at Foreign Cinema, I realized that I had passed the door on several other occasions, but had dismissed it as the entrance to a (possibly abandoned) seedy industrial bar, since one could only see a long empty corridor through the windows. I suppose solid urban construction is not my aesthetic taste. The part of the bar in which the Cathedral party occurred was a large box with a concrete floor, suitable for an industrial dance party. As usual, the normal decibel level of an event space was a bit too loud for me - my guess is that the restaurant portion is better for conversation. The bartender, it turned out, was a student at SFSU, another of my almae matres (if a plural here is allowed!). It was very nice to see some of my old teachers, including Madame Terraciano, who buys at the same cafe as I do but keeps a different coffee schedule, and Mrs. Peskin (I'm sorry, I still find The Golden Key creepy rather than beautiful). Cocktail parties aren't my thing, and the scene was dominated by alumni parents, so I did not remain until the end, but rather left after I had talked sufficiently with the people whom I knew.

O Plastic Tree, thy leaves are so unchanging!

On Monday, the Calvary bible study group which I attend (although I confess my absence at the previous meeting) participated in the "Hanging of the Greens", a tradition with which I was not familiar. Apparently, it's a fancy term for Christmas decoration volunteer labor. Don't get the wrong idea: working on a task together is highly enjoyable, but it's still labor. I'm no cook, so my contribution to the potluck was made by others. The amount of decoration provided seemed excessive to me, but this is a thought I have every year. The leader of the work detail, however, was an expert Christmas tree decorator, and knew how to drape the voluminous ribbons.
Decoration, of course, is easier when the tree is made of plastic. I understand the appeal of a fake tree for institutions (such as Calvary) which need to vacuum acres of carpet and respect the sensitivities of the hypoallergenic congregants, but it still doesn't provide the same satisfaction.

Christmastide

I realize that this is posted long after the draft was finished.

At Christmastide, the bonds of kin grow closer than the rest of the year, and this family is no exception. My brother and his girlfriend, who live down the hill joined us for Christmas Day dinner, but the rest of family was habitually late - so much so that we ceased delaying dinner and consumed our repast. The bearded uncle, the artiste aunt, and adopted kid arrived immediately after we had finished. On this night, I finally acquired a cell phone. The next day I had to return to work, albeit at Tahoe with a view of the Tahoe City golf course, but in the evening we had a Boxing Day dinner and opened the remaining presents.