A Bittersweet Time

By Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 12/24/2025)

When I was a kid, Christmas was always a bittersweet time. Lots of emotions were at play, even though the family worked together to make it a joyous and happy time with lots of festiveness and fun. It had all the attributes of a good time for a kid: a Christmas tree, happy music, great food, presents, and family members singing uplifting music. There was mystery and magic, good surprises, Midnight Mass, and hugs all around.

It was also the only time of the year I would see my grandma cry, weeping and then sobbing, and running off to her room for a half hour to compose herself, right when she was making the mulled sauce for the traditional Christmas Eve ham. No one would talk about why she would burst into tears, until I, being the impertinent child, asked her one year. My question got a scathing look from my mother, but I persisted.

I learned that Grandma’s mom had died on Christmas Eve, many years ago, and what was supposed to be a happy day was marked by deep sadness, and grief. Our family didn’t talk much about grief and loss anyway, so it didn’t surprise me that the anniversary was tough on all of the family, especially my grandmother. She was the queen at burying her emotions and not sharing difficult times. She didn’t share her emotions with anyone, especially the hard and deeply personal emotions of losing one’s parent when they were a kid.

Once I learned about the anniversary, I went out of my way to be kind to Grandma at Christmas, and gave her some hugs, and shared funny stories. I was able to get Grandma to talk about her mom, and tell some sweet and loving stories of her, and how she loved her family. After our talk, and sharing her feelings with the rest of the family, she warmed up, and became more open about being emotional and kind. Christmas wasn’t a mine field anymore, and we were all better at talking about our feelings.

This Christmas is a lot like that Christmas. It is a time of raw and tender emotions, a time of having a deep sense of loss and grief, and not knowing how to deal with a lot of complicated and conflicting emotions. The air feels heavy, and I’m not navigating through the season with a sense of joy or enjoyment. It seems that many of us are grieving and struggling in a tough year, where our lives are unsettled, and we are adrift, unsatisfied, and hurting.

A lot of that is our political experiences, but other aspects of our cultural and social life also seem out of whack, disoriented, and blurry. Watching the news or attending a concert of what should be our favorite and happy music seems to leave me unsettled, unsatisfied, and yes, disturbed, often angry and adrift. There’s a big chunk of a sense of order and goodness that is missing or just out of place. And, I don’t have good words to describe that. Like my grandmother grieving for her mother’s death anniversary at Christmas, I don’t have the words, and I resist talking about it. Part of me wants to hide, and live in denial.

This fall, I watched Ken Burns’ engaging documentary on the American Revolution, which gave me new insight into the American psyche and a renewed sense of history and the deep roots of the American spirit. There was a discussion of Thomas Paine’s influential pamphlet, Common Sense, and its opening sentence: “These are the times that try men’s souls.”

We are living in a similar time, where we are grieving the loss of some of our culture, values, and sense of morality. We often feel adrift, unsure of where the country is headed, of what our own place is in what is coming. It seems to be a good time for being reflective and purposeful. I often feel lost and aimless, and not really being able to give words to what I’m feeling.

Joan Baez recently spoke on finding and rediscovering one’s own sense of purpose and moral center. She was receiving a big award for her creativity, and spoke candidly and intensely to the Hollywood elite at the awards event.

‘If your voice can move millions and you choose not to use it for those who have no voice, then you are not creating change – you are creating noise.”

“If you have more than you need, it no longer belongs only to you. Your responsibility is to lift up those who are still beneath you.

“Legacy is not built on what you earn. It is built on what you give.”

I’m feeling I’ve misplaced my mojo, my sense of purpose, but Baez’ words are a wake-up call. We Americans have a rich heritage, and we have the tools to strengthen and rebuild our culture, and rediscover our sense of purpose and mission. I now see a lot of that renewal, that renaissance, and it gives me joy and hope.

Like my grandmother, we can give ourselves permission to grieve our losses, deal with our shared pain, and move forward, to give love to our families and our communities, and to make a real difference.

12/24/2025

The Real Presents Under the Tree

Christmas Eve, 2017

I’m sitting by the fire, with a mug of coffee, watching the cold rain fall outside, almost turning to snow.

The presents are wrapped and under the tree, brightening up the living room. Soon, dinner will be in the oven, and the merriment of Christmas will begin.

The real joy of the season, and the real presents to be enjoyed, won’t be found under the tree. The true gifts of Christmas have already been given, and our hearts are already filled with the joy of the season.

That joy, that “reason for the season” is found in relationships.

It has been a year of reaching out, reconnecting, and opening our hearts to one another. Friends and family have shared their fears, their uncertainties, their doubts. Many have had their lives turned upside down, and have been left fearful of their future, and their own abilities to captain their ships through storm-tossed seas.

This year, I’ve made it a point to reach out and share time with many people. Being a good listener, offering comfort and solace. Realizing that each of us is an instrument of change. One person can make a difference. It’s a simple truth.

Often, simply showing up and being there for someone has warmed our hearts and provided a safe harbor during the storm.

Last week, I visited two young men in prison. Both of them were filled with doubt and uncertainty, feeling lost and unsupported in their journeys. We talked, we laughed, we shared our stories of our struggles and doubts during this year.

We each took comfort in the other’s big hearts and willingness to extend hands of friendship.

Behind cold walls topped with razor wire, I found the light of personal commitment to a better world. Young men, with great courage and great wisdom, speaking from their hearts gave me hope for the future.

We are not alone. None of us are fully confident in our ability to weather the storms of life. Yet, we have each other, and we believe in each other. In our community, by coming together and sharing our hearts and our talents, we will change the world.

This year, I celebrate the gift of friendship, the gift of unconditional love.

What really is important this year is not found in politics, and is rarely talked about on the pages of newspapers, social media posts, or on TV. Yet, I hear it from friends and family, over coffee, and in new books that come my way.

The real treasure we have, and the true power that we hold in our own hands and in our hearts, is the ability to care about each other, to support each other, and to act with compassion and respect.

The answers to the world’s problems won’t be found in the marble halls of Washington, but they will be found in our hearts and in the strength of hands holding hands, people walking alongside other people, and working towards our common goals and implementing our common values in the work that we do.

This is a time of rebuilding, and restarting the relationships and the social institutions that have served us so well in the past. In our commonality, our common goodness, there is hope and there is our future.

–Neal Lemery

A Few Hands of Rummy

The week before Christmas is always hectic. So much to get ready for, so many little errands, the to do list that doesn’t seem to stop. And, part of me struggles with the short days and the long dark and cold nights. There’s a big part of me that just wants to eat comfort food, ingest lots of sugar, and snuggle under a blanket with a mug of tea.

I recently stopped by the nearby youth prison for my weekly visit with a guy. No one has come to see him in the last four years, so I’ve been asked to come and say hi, be his friend, so he can gain some people skills. Soon, he’ll be out in the world, and will need to be able to interact with the world. Spending some time with me is a start in all that.

Once a week, we play cards. He’s teaching me rummy. I’m not sure of the rules, andI think we have our own version of the game going on. He’s the teacher, a new role for him, and he’s starting to enjoy teaching this old man a few things.

The conversation is a little one sided. He’s not used to company and making small talk. He’s struggling with math at school, so keeping score in the game of rummy is good for him. He’s making something in wood shop. He’s keeping it mysterious, so I think its my Christmas present.

I’m getting him a blanket for Christmas, one that features his favorite football team. He mentioned he’d like that a few weeks ago. But, now he’s claiming he can’t remember what he asked me for Christmas. I wouldn’t tell him today. It’s a surprise, a part of the excitement of the season.

Except for what he’s getting from the prison, and a local fraternal organization, no one else is getting him a present.
He said he liked the Christmas card I sent him this week. He mentioned it several times, but not finding the words he wanted to say.

He showed me the card he was making for his grandma. It was sweet, with a little Christmas tree and the ornaments, Charlie Brown style, made from a sheet of copy paper, colored with crayons, and hand blocked letters. He’s sixteen now, but the card had the look of something from an art class a long time ago. Yet, it was something from his sweet heart. I’m hoping I get one, too. It would go on the frig, and I’d show it off to my friends and family.

“My gin rummy buddy gave that to me,” I’d say. “He’s quite a guy.”

We play a few hands, and discover we have an extra Queen of Clubs. He doesn’t know what to do, so we change the rules and play 53 card, five queen rummy. It really is our own game now. We’re just making it up as we go along.

The hour flies by. We’re busy shuffling, dealing, laying down some runs, and adding up our points. He’s beating me, big time. We don’t talk about much. But, we don’t need to. We’re just hanging out, two guys having a good time, playing some cards.

“Are you having a good time?” I ask.

“Oh, this is great,” he says. “Yeah.”

“I’m really glad you come to see me,” he says. “Otherwise, I’d be all alone.”

The other guys here are busy, and the room where we play can get pretty noisy. But, my buddy is zeroed in on our card game, intent on adding up his points, and beating me.

“I’ll see you at the Christmas party next week,” he says. “And, don’t forget my gift.”

I’ll get one from him, too. But, he’s already given me the best present, the simple gift of an hour, a little conversation, and some hands of cards, and his face breaking out into a little smile.

And, maybe that’s the best gift I could ever have for Christmas.

12/23/2015
–Neal Lemery

Defining Success

On Christmas, my wife and I visited one of our young men in prison. Of all my friends, he’s the one who enjoys Christmas the most, especially the anticipation, the expectation, and the promise of a happy time, a brighter tomorrow.

After five and a half years in prison, his spirit is brighter now that it’s ever been. He’s grown in so many ways, and achieved many of his goals. In prison, he’s actually had goals and found ways to achieve them. Before that, life was just survival, slogging through chaos and drugs, of being treated indifferently, without love, and not knowing who he was or where he was headed.

Now, he’s found purpose and meaning. He’s making peace with the demons in his life, and has found the strength and courage to look deep inside of himself, and to finally love himself, and all the possibilities he has in his life.

He wanted socks for Christmas, making sure everyone knew it, too. Now, he’s a wealthy man, Mr. Big in the world of socks. He’s the happy recipient of forty pairs of socks, socks of nearly every size and color. He has socks everywhere now, new socks to try on every day for over a month.

Yes, he had a successful Christmas, all the socks he could ever want. In the telling of his story, his laugh and his big smile light up his face; he knows now that he is loved and respected by so many people. He’s figured out the magic of Christmas, the reason for the season.

He’s successful in so many other ways this year. He’s taken charge of his life, looking deep inside of himself, and taking charge of who he is, and where he is going. He’s embraced his new maturity. He’s taken on his self confidence and is moving ahead. He’s found his courage and is nourishing and loving his soul.

He’s the person Robert Louis Stevenson was writing about when he said,
“That man is successful who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much, who has gained the respect of the intelligent men and the love of children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who leaves the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it; who looked for the best in others and gave the best he had.” ~Robert Louis Stevenson

This year, many people I know have taken stock of their lives, summoned their courage, and moved ahead. Their accomplishments are many, and I’ve been applauding their journeys, and marveling at their determination and sacred intentions in their lives. It has been a year of transformation and a year of dramatic and momentous growth. Old demons have been called out of the basement, new directions has been set, and the tough, sweaty and hard work has been done. And, in that work, our communities are stronger, more vibrant, richer in so many ways.

Some people look to Washington politicians to make the big changes they want to see in the world and in their lives. Yet, the real change and the real work is done right here, inside my friends and neighbors, the farmer, the waitress, the young man in prison. The real change makers are right here, and the work is getting done. People are becoming transformed, people making a real difference.

Like my young friend in prison, people are taking inventory of who they are inside, and grasping the power they have to change. And, then, they are stepping out, and doing the hard, gut level work, and moving ahead.

They see the richness in their lives, not by the number of socks they got for Christmas, but in the way they love and are loved.