Historicity

Recently I was talking with a friend about my 'hometown' of Paterson.  Fiercely in my bones, Paterson defined my childhood; my conversation with said friend, however, revealed that I knew very little about it.  I felt--just a bit--like a fraud.  Upon arriving in NJ for Christmas I mentioned this to my father, who had some vacation days to make up.  The rest, as they say, is History.

Our first stop was Lambert Castle on the day after Christmas.

Paterson was home to the silk trade, and this castle was built as a home to one of its barons in the late 1800s.  

Designed to also be a home to his art collection,

room after room sprawled before us 

as we meandered through,

imagining what life must have been like when its owner meandered there as well.

This guy was no particular help in our quest, 

just a part of the Christmas trees and displays sprawled throughout the house as we went.

Some of my favorite discoveries:

This tree,

these antlers,

this chandelier,

this old Paterson made piano,

this view,

and this rotunda.

A few days later found my dad and I at the Paterson museum.

Paterson was a planned industrial city, where many goods were invented, improved, and produced.  The city can boast of silk production, locomotive production, plane engine production, submarine production, and Colt revolver production to name the most prominent.

Since my great-grandfather worked in the silk mills, I was particularly interested in the workings of that trade.  [What I learned was so interesting that I've decided to make it its own post--more to come!]

Brimming with information (helped along--apparently--by having worked in every building in the city, since at nearly every display he said something along the lines of 'oh, yeah, I worked in that building'), Marlo deftly explained the workings of the machines used in said silk trade,

the plane engines manufactured at--yes--a building he had worked in,

and the first submarine.

When we'd had our fill of all the museum had to tell us, we headed outside to one of the locomotives built in Paterson and used to build the Panama Canal.

There, a very nice man took our picture.

[A picture, I might point out, that solidifies once and for all my personal history: Yup, I'm his daughter.]

Next, we went across the street to Paterson's famed Great Falls, the source of its industrial power and the reason that Alexander Hamilton envisioned a thriving city in the first place.

When we were done exploring all the falls had to offer us [more to come on that too...], we hopped in the truck and my very own tour guide showed me around the city.  We found the district of old beautiful houses, built with Spanish tiled roofs and leaded glass windows.  And then, we found a house that had particular meaning in our own history:

the house my grandparents lived in until I was four.

Pastor of a city church, my grandparents lived in this parsonage just off of Broadway,

and I spent many pleasant hours in this backyard, being thrown in the air in a blanket by my young and very fun aunts.

We drove home, past the church where I spent many a childhood Sunday enraptured by the black gospel piano playing and singing that occurred there, enchanted by my very own grandfather standing in the pulpit, love for him oozing out of every pore of the people in the pews.  I marveled at how small the building is now, since in my four year old mind it stands large and looming.  I tried to take a picture, but all I got was blur.  I thought, 'perhaps it's for the best'--sometimes historicity is better remembered the way we remember it, and not the way it is today.

Regardless of the changes that time brings, I can--having made my historific tour of this place brimming with all kinds of historicity--claim without question my rightful heritage as a child of Paterson!

Family Adventures

Let there be no mistake: I live a life of luxury.  My academic calendar provides me with lovely stretches of days  off, and I am spoiled beyond belief.  That would be why it was easy for me to take a week to stay in NJ, where adventures awaited with members of my extended family.

One of those adventures took place in front of this restroom

inside of this movie theater

where we had sectioned off a row for ourselves in order to be entertained by Sherlock Holmes and his trusty Dr. Watson.  

Entertained we were.

[Perhaps by more than the movie...]

Since our adventures seem to turn out well, 

a few nights later found some of us spontaneously together again,

at Bobby's Burger Palace in nearby Paramus.

Ever since I found out that Bobby Flay has an establishment near my parent's home, I've been itching to get there.  I was not disappointed: Hello goat cheese and watercress on my burger, sweet potato in my fries, and pistachio in my shake...

YUM.

Speaking of yum,

afterward we roamed the attached mall,

while the men scored themselves a seat 

and had themselves a chat.

At the end of the night we hugged each other good-bye,

sadly, but with the knowledge that

all adventures [and all togetherness] must come to an end...
until next time!

Christmas Type Togetherness

Imagine the noise associated with this roomful of people and you will be on your way to experiencing my Christmas Eve family togetherness.

 

Starting the celebrations out at my aunt's house,
we munched on yummy treats and passed out gifts in the midst of our laughter and chatter.

Somehow the chaos that seems to surround our togetherness made way for we girls to gather around Grandma

and to open these toasty slippers,
which she had knitted for us with love.

(Though Daniela didn't get a pair of her own,
she agreed with us that they were pretty great...)

Before we knew it, it was time to head out for our exclusive Kooistra Christmas Togetherness over at mom & dad's house, where many more goodies and many more packages awaited us.

In front of the cozy fire and the pretty tree, 

we gifted each other with love

 

and remarked on the fact that we have acquired the sweetest baby as well as the sweetest dog since this time last year.

The night went quickly and before we knew it Keith and Marisa took Daniela home, it was Christmas Day, and there were stockings to be opened.

Digby (of the Dave & Kara Kooistras) learned all about Kooistra Christmas Togetherness as he scoped out this stocking tradition,

and played with his own stocking treasures.

We lounged sleepily with our coffee and pajamas,

remarked on the variety of 'little things' (yet another Kooistra tradition) that get tucked into those stockings by our stocking wizard each year,

and shared in the last moments of our all-too-brief Christmas togetherness before Dave & Kara got on the road for home.  

The rest of the day was spent leisurely

over the lasagna dinner that has somehow become tradition in recent years,

with time for more gifts, more conversation,

and a delicious Christmas nap.

Christmas type togetherness,
you are welcome to return next year!

Overflow my Christmas Heart

My Christmas in NJ began at an evensong service in the darkened sanctuary of the church where I grew up, with my mother, with guitars, and with worship beautiful, simple, powerful.  I sang in awe and gratitude for the year that I have had, a year of God descending with blessing in His hand, revealing His own self, clearing out  the darkness: 

Let all mortal flesh keep silence,

And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descendeth
Our full homage to demand.

King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.


Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.


At His feet the six winged seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most High!

The only possible response to watching God descend: 

Silence, stillness, Alleluia.

Hence, the overflow of my Christmas heart began, and hence it continued as I spent the next day with my grandmother at her nursing home, eating the egg-on-a-NJ-bagel I'd picked up on my way over at her table with her lady friends, playing an impromptu concert of Christmas carols for the hard-to-deny-and-simply-adorable Willie, sitting with her in her cozy little room with reminders of my grandfather all around, chatting about all things family related... 

...like this Christmas cactus 

which--my grandmother informed me--belonged to her mother, was passed down to her, and eventually came to bloom on my mother's kitchen table, just in time for Christmas.

As I sat with her I thought what I usually think when I am with her, though with a Christmas spin:  An overflowing Christmas heart takes the time to listen for the secrets of a family, to make that family whole.

This particular whole family was gathering on the next day, for Christmas Eve celebrations of food and giftings, in our typically [and in no way secret] noisy can't-get-a-word-in-edge-wise way.   Since, however, this particular post is focusing on the silence of an overflowing heart, let's save the details of those gatherings for later, and skip ahead to the stillness of a midnight-hour candlelight service at the local town church. 

As Eve became Day, Dave & Kara, my parents, and I sang to the accompaniment of bells and an ancient organ, amid a crowd of people gathered to the do the same.  We came away, our Christmas hearts at peace.

We hopped into our car, to turn on the heat and to prolong our all-too-short time together, to be spontaneous and to go find some north jersey Christmas lights.  Due to the earliness of the hour, we didn't find much, but what we did find perhaps misunderstood the definition of 'overflow':

Our Christmas hearts were warmed, nonetheless, by our quiet chatting and sleepy laughter, by the gift of our presence.  By, as you may by now expect me to say: the overflow.

And so with ceaseless voice, 

the overflow of my Christmas heart continues to cry:
Alleluia, Lord Most High.