Christmas Letter 2013

Welcome to the 9th annual Downing Christmas letter!

The yearly effort to revisit the adventures of past months for the reading pleasure of friends, family, and even strangers is a great delight that is nearly 10 years old. The many twists and turns in life are set on display to help you, the faithful reader get a small glimpse into the joys and sorrows of the life’s path we run down.

 

May your Christmas be filled with cheer and plenty!

"No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently."

~ Agnes de Mille (1909 - 1993)

December 2012 failed to deliver the end of the world, as some thought the Mayan calendar indicated. The grim outlook of that ancient calendar turned out to be the best practical joke EVER!!!  High-five to the Mayans! I wonder if there’s anything I could do today to shake up the world in 4023. Yoda, the wise Jedi Master would say, ‘Do or do not. There is no try’. I will need to learn how to chisel a stone calendar, I think.

Boat

One fine day in June, I walked with my lovely wife and baby through our neighborhood, pleasantly commenting on the wide variety of landscape options and noting some of the homes that topped our list of houses we’d like to live in. As we strolled along, we noted that a neighbor on our street had a small for sale sign on his boat, which I had admired since we moved in. Spotting the owner, Cheryl called out to him to see if a tour would be possible. Not knowing exactly what she intended, I gladly joined her in the tour as the owner proudly displayed his well-maintained, family watercraft. 

Within minutes, Cheryl asked him what his lowest price would be. Surprised by the direct question, he tossed out a partially audible, non-committal response that loosely translated into “Um, I dunno.” Cheryl, in her great wisdom suggested an offer too low for serious consideration. To Cheryl’s delight, he gave the lowest offer he could accept, which proved to be an amazing deal! The warm summer breeze carried her parting words, “Thanks! We’re going to talk about it and get back to you soon.”

 

One short outing set William in the pilot’s seat after getting his boater’s license with an A+ on the exam. During that initial run, which I regret waiting to install the depth finder, I directed William to an area of the river that turned out to be a gravel bar only a couple feet deep. The shocking sensation of the propeller grinding into sharpened nubs where blades used to be proved quite alarming to both of us. Fortunately, I carried all the tools required to install the depth finder as we anchored at the river’s edge. Unfortunately, the river held an average depth of 5 feet! Realizing this outing needed to end immediately, we motored upstream toward the dock, but within seconds we recognized our stubby bladed propeller wasn’t as bad as the smoking engine of a fellow boater that had just zoomed by.

We had a fine pleasure of towing our comrades with our handicapped boat back to the dock, because our engine still worked! I did find out that changing a propeller’s blade pitch by only 2 degrees is the difference between 4 mph and 40 mph on the water. I finally found a propeller that matched the original, and danced happily upon Oregon’s beautiful reservoirs, leaving the rivers to kayaks.

When the neighbor sold us the boat, he eagerly shared these wise words, “The happiest days of a man’s life is when he buys a boat, and when he sells it.” He shared these deep words not just once, but no less than five times, each proclamation presented as if they’d never been heard before, complete with hearty chuckles to emphasize the statement. Turns out, for me, neither are true.  

 

The day I bought the boat, these historic, philosophical words came to mind: “I have a boat.” The day I sold the boat, these words floated into my heart and mind from far beyond this physical reality we know to be true: “I don’t have a boat.” Mind shattering, right? Where my neighbor parted ways with his family’s watercraft under the superpower of Cheryl’s negotiating skills, I stayed fast to the selling price and brought in a nice profit because of it. A pilot from Canada bought the boat and is apparently playing with it at a lake house he owns. Maybe the purchase was the happiest day of his life. 

Salmon

My fishing adventures for several years now have been anything but successful. I am a man that watches water, and others actually catch fish. Yes, I cast my line. No, I don’t catch fish. Cheryl and William, in their well-articulated Neanderthal dialect, say it very straight, “Man go. Look at water.” This statement relieves me of the need to stop by a local market to buy a fish and pretend I caught it, which I appreciate.

 This fall, a friend of mine, who is an expert killer of any fish willing to risk swimming in a river he’s standing near, invited me to go with him to the Alsea River heading toward the coast. The salmon runs were strong this year, and he said if I didn’t catch anything, he would give me some frozen Chinook from his home. The first day out, I broke my years of watching water, and pulled in a young salmon apparently called a Jack. When I say I pulled Jack in, I actually yanked him out of the water, flying over my shoulder, flopping heavily on the sandy river bank where my friend stood with the net in hand. A nearby fellow fisherman exclaimed how unsportsmanlike my technique was, and that I should have more respect for the art of catching fish. Really? If sending a salmon airborne isn’t a work of art, I don’t know what is.

 Proud of my flying catch, I made my way home to set Jack on display for my wife to enjoy. My work pulled me away to several banquets that week, leaving Cheryl to dine with Jack while I sampled a variety of Jack's brothers among my working peers.

A couple weeks later, I returned to the same river with the same friend and continued my successful journey to bear the title ‘fisherman’. This time, I pulled in a big fat Coho salmon, bright and shiny chrome that hardly fought as I slid his great chubbiness into the net. No airborne antics for this guy.

Within an hour, I hooked a fine Chinook that fought like a true champion. The thrills of my day translated into nearly 40 lbs. of fresh salmon!

Front yard

The summer days brought forth another home project to landscape the entire front area. The transition from overgrown rhododendrons and rolling grass areas to concrete pavers and several retaining walls proved to be a rather hefty project after all. The goal to finish the project before September seemed reasonable at the beginning, but time disappears and concrete doesn’t. While I looked upon the deadline with trepidation, an opportunity to achieve the goal came into our sites in the form of a young couple bartering her hubby’s labor for ballroom dance lessons. Through the workings of Cheryl’s renowned negotiating skills, the young couple got their dance-dreams fulfilled, and we had our projects put ahead of schedule!

Several phases of the front yard still remain, including a bubbling water feature using the trunk of the tree that stands in the courtyard, planting, lighting, and Cheryl’s favorite: a French style sitting area in the brick courtyard. OoLaLa!

Babycakes

Babycakes turned one on December 8^th, and what a wonderful year it’s been having her around! The roll of foster parents isn’t an easy one at times, and there are certainly issues we’ve worked through relating to the weekly visits the biological parents continue to engage in, but it is well worth the effort to help little babycakes get the best foot forward in life. At this time, we've promised to keep pictures of Babycakes away from the social media, so if you would like a picture you'll need to ask.

 Having a newborn brought on the pure agony of waking every two hours that couldn't be put behind us fast enough! The simple joy of getting her first laugh caught in a photo, the cheers of her first successful rollover, and the sudden realization that she started rolling over AND crawling within an hour of each other made it all worthwhile. And all the artsy stuff around the house move up or out of her reach in a great hurry as well. Now, our house is littered with stray toys and blocks and a variety of musical toys of happiness.

 She taught us her own special sign language, which began like an Italian connoisseur waving her right hand above her head, fingertips joined to thumb as if to say “Questa è deliziosa” (this is delicious), which we translated immediately into “MORE MUFFIN!!!” She’s introduced us to another sign that says “I don’t want any more food… AND I’M SERIOUS!” which is essentially displayed by her left hand swatting food to the floor, and anything that comes close to her lips is rejected forcefully. She’s not afraid to let us know how she feels, which may be a challenge as the years pass.

Recently, she’s made progress with her first words, which included ‘hi’, ‘wow’, ‘momma’, and ‘dad’. It’s become startlingly clear that she comprehends far more than she can communicate, which means I need to be VERY careful what I say around her. Cheryl capitalizes on Babycakes' crawling position and chases her around the house like a mother lioness would a cub. Babycakes isn't quite fast enough yet, and is bowled over (in a soft, baby-like manner) as Cheryl pounces! The giggles of both Babycakes and Cheryl can be heard throughout the house, along with wild, animalistic declarations of victory... and that's just Babycakes!

 

As of mid-December, 2013 we’re still working with the State as Foster parents to Babycakes. The first couple months of 2014 will decide the path the State will take with her, whether she returns to the biological parents or transfers to an adoption track. We have no idea what the future holds, but we’re madly in love with little Babycakes and always will be. Of course, if the opportunity to adopt her arises, we’ll be the first to raise our hands.

Sir William 

William entered his senior year of high school this year, and is looking forward to sporting his cap and gown to walk across that stage in June. He is proud to be big brother to Babycakes, and they both light up when he’s comes over. They get along amazingly well, and he’s shown how well he understands the needs of a little baby. If fact, he’s embraced the opportunities to care for her every need, short of bathing her. He’ll be a great dad someday!

Books

My children’s book, Pickle-itis launched throughout the digital world early in 2013. The initial wave proved exciting, and to see it available online in Croatia, New Zealand, India, Australia, and even South Africa made this appear easier than I ever thought. The biggest concern isn’t getting the book out to the world; it’s getting people to actually buy it. Marketing, as with any business venture, is the most difficult thing to do while working full time and restricted to a limited budget.

To help promote the book, I’ve embraced opportunities to read to 97 1^st and 2^nd graders, and to a kindergarten class. I also held a book sale at one of Cheryl’s Zumba Fitness parties. I committed to doing 5 minutes of Zumba for each book sold during the event. To my surprise, I faced 70 minutes of high impact Zumba. The room full of Zumba fanatics held me to my commitment, and I made them proud! I danced salsa, cha-cha, reggaeton, and shook, shimmied, jumped, spun, twirled, and even attempted to sing some utterly incomprehensible Spanish that would’ve gotten me beat up on the streets. In the end, I walked away profitable, but barely breathing.

Then one day, on a short lunch break, my mind brought forth a poetic story that poured from my heart onto six pages of verse and rhyme that made me laugh aloud as it appeared on the pages before me. The story, originally named Princess Flo, held all the makings of the ‘little girl’ story Cheryl asked me to write for Babycakes, save one thing: Flaming Farts!

The first person hearing the story read aloud laughed to the point of tears, which is my greatest reward as a writer. The title, sadly, brought forth connections to menstrual cycles rather than a fragile princess needing to be rescued by a valiant knight.  After much pondering, I changed the title to Stench and Steed: A Valiant Deed, which is the only thing edited from the original creation.

The illustrator is absolutely amazing, and is passionate about making this project a work of art and serious fun. He’s like a little kid with his excitement, but a true professional in his skills and talents. As the book continues to develop, I am promoting the story and bits of art wherever and whenever possible. For example, a men’s retreat invited me to read the story to over 45 guys of all ages, complete with a couple images displayed on a full wall while I read to the group. To my delight, the room filled with manly laughter and promises to buy the book when it’s available. We're hoping to have it available in March, 2014. Oh, visit www.jfdowning.com!

 “Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. “

~ Lewis Carroll (1832 - 1898), Alice in Wonderland

The mysteries of the days ahead are delightfully left to the imagination, and my mind’s eye delivers delicious optimism for things to come. I rest in faith, family, peace, and prosperity, and an abundance of dark red wine that slow dances with my soul after every sip. Those things believed to be impossible are showing themselves to be possible, and this coming year, God willing, will be a fantastic journey to tell the tale to those willing to read through the letters each season.

 Merry Christmas!

John, Cheryl and Family