Christmas makes us laugh and cry! may god laugh with you and dr lant

Christmas makes us laugh and cry! May God laugh with you and Dr Lant.

Preface / Introduction

As we get to the holiday, Christmas is close and our pockets are starting to quiver, these will bring
life, hope, love and fear to everyone. As you read please remember those that are close and far and
near your prayers during this time of giving!
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Table of Contents
1. First Christmas away from home. Paris. 1967.
2. For the lonely at the holidays.


First Christmas away from home. Paris. 1967.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant.
Author's program note. Today is the day I sign up to receive Social Security. It will be a day when
low level bureaucrats will prod me, asking questions they already know the answers to, all designed
to prove (or not) that I am the Jeffrey Ladd Lant born 66 years ago in Illinois, into a time and
situation which now only exist in my imagination.
I wonder whether the clerk will smile or even look at me when the inevitable queries are asked? I'm
not counting on it, for they see a generation advancing to old age, while I consider only myself. I
want human contact but will have to do with "sign here" and get the money.
And so, under the circumstances you will understand that I need something quite different; a kind of
cosmic pick-me-up composed of equal portions of youth, energy, hope and optimism, all things in
shorter supply today, here and now, than then. I need Paris. Since you probably do, too, let me share
some with you.... the better to remember and pass a kindred moment when not a single word is
required or expected.
"I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles".
For me, only one song would do for the musical accompaniment to this article; Cole Porter's
seductive tune "I Love Paris". It debued in 1953, in the film "Can- Can" and like so many of Porter's
haunting melodies it immediately touched the soul of the world; in this case setting us to recall the
bittersweet memories of a youth that can only be tapped infrequently, so powerful is even the
smallest part.
I like Ella Fitzgerald's rendition about "this timeless town". It cuts to the heart... and does with you
what it will... just like love itself. You'll find this bijoux in any search engine. Go now and play it...
again... and again... and again. If it's cold and misty outside and the memories come thick and fast,
you are ready for what follows.
Paris, destiny.
In 1967, I was the luckiest 20-year-old in the world. Though the Great Republic was at war, gravely
divided by whether we should have more of it or less, I was going to Poland for my Christmas
holidays. Now as all the world knows, the way to Warsaw most assuredly goes through Paris, at
least in my atlas. Thus I found myself for the first time in the City of Light at the best possible time
in life to be there, that is to say whatever time you are there; in my case December,1967 just a few
days before Christmas.
My trip, hurriedly arranged which is to say (in the way of young men) not arranged at all, came
about because of a notice hung on the campus bulletin board at the University of St. Andrews in
Scotland, where I was spending, and happily too, my junior year abroad. It promised high times and
hijinx in Zakopane, the site of the Eastern Bloc's 1967 Winter Olympics. The trip was sponsored by
the Young Pioneers, Communism's equivalent of the "Best and the Brightest." The cost could be
scrapped together and was just affordable at just about a hundred quid.
Of course we wouldn't tell parents where it was we were going, much less under whose auspices.
Bright young men seek to shield the 'rents from any inkling that they might have had, were having,
or would have a "good time." That was always the best possible course, especially where
Communists... and Paris, mind... were involved.
Paris first.

http://www.MyExtremeResults.com Copyright Denis Darling - 2012 4 of 10


Our trip to Poland was to have begun in London where we were to meet the tour guide and
organizer. He had been a Tory candidate for Parliament in the last General Election; time now hung
heavy while he waited impatiently for his next chance at greatness. Like most young, ambitious,
aspiring Conservatives he didn't believe in much of anything; principles, you see, get in the way of
success. It was always better not to have too many or to believe them too seriously.
As a result our guide, youthful, good looking and unscrupulous was excellent company and game for
anything. It's a pity I've forgotten his name... he's undoubtedly a retired cabinet minister now, full of
sage advice and pompous aphorisms... the Right Honourable the (first) Baron Twitsbee-on-Thames.
Such a man, of course, approved our traveling to Paris first, meeting up with the group later,
pleasurably fatigued as men of the world would most assuredly be at that point. He undoubtedly
wished us luck... and winked, salaciously.
And so I went to Paris -- and to a passionate embrace which has never ended.
Every true Parisian believes there is Paris... and then there is everything else. There is no known
antidote to this belief. Once in Paris, walking the Champs Elysee, you are glad it is so. No antidote
desired; none imaginable. And that's as it should be. So I came to see that Paris was not merely a
place... but an idea, a dream, a journey, a vision and where, in grander style and sureness of touch,
there was a better me waiting for the ordinary me to arrive.
Le beau coup.
I remember everything about those days... no detail too small or inconsequential. Paris is like that,
transforming even the slightest of matters into Events, primed with Significance. Paris is, after all,
the greatest mise-en-scene on Earth, a place where you find yourself, see yourself as larger than life,
mesmerizing, captivating, the very person you have always wanted to be... and now are, to the
gratification of self and the satisfying envy of the folks back home.
No other city on Earth, no other place at all holds such power, such magic, and so you, like
Josephine Baker sing this: "J'ai deux amours. Mon pais et Paris"; you are suddenly, unmistakably, to
your complete bliss a boulevardier au fait with everything in this place which now forever holds a
piece of your heart and means to keep it forever with fierce possession.
And so it started in a boulangerie within moments of arrival. I ordered a baguette... and thanked the
proprietor for... her beau coup. "O, monsieur," she said, just for a moment no longer of a "certain
age" but young again, with gracious curves well worth the seeing. She patted her haunch, she
giggled, she pointed "O monsieur, c'est le beau coup". I had made her happy. It was a portent of
other happy encounters to come.
"Is this what I think it's for?"
Later that day, I stood with Mark Morris at the ticket counter of the Opera, Baron Haussmann's great
creation begun in1861, a venue fit for God Himself to make music. We barely had enough for two
tickets high up in the rafters and needed to count it twice over to be sure of even that.. but there was
something about us, two acolytes butchering la belle langue determined to worship everything we
saw, that touched the heart of the woman ticket seller.
"Voila'," she said, an empress dispensing largesse. And so we came to possess a box at the Opera for
the evening's performance, compliments of a Parisienne determined to turn by a graceful touch the
quotidian into a lifetime's happy memory.
Everything was new, notable, marvelous.. including how two young men of decidedly limited
means, dressed just a shade better than tatterdemalions had their box unlocked for them, then locked



again with them inside. And of how they soon discovered a ceramic pot on the floor festooned with
the grandiloquent "N"s of the master who ordered such monumental awe and splendor. Yes, it was
used... and so the customs of Paris turned the most natural function into art and protocol.
Last night, first visit. Venite adoremus. Notre Seigneur et Sauveur.
No young person wants to slow down the pace of time. Speed, not savor, is always their order of the
day. But then comes Paris and the dawning fear one has too little time, hardly any time at all to enjoy
each thing, every thing. And so youth comes to know a secret of age: that the best lived life is
patient, paced, distinguished by care not merely celerity. Thus one grows and matures, another of
Paris' insights and benedictions.
And so in my final hours of what I vowed must be the first of many visits, I made my way near
midnight to one of man's great achievements, Notre Dame. I went as a curiosity seeker, for I was,
after all, the son of Puritans who would decry my very presence at such a Romish place.
But God was present that night, and I knew why men of vision had dreamed this place and worked
so hard to achieve it. Here was a place where one might look for and even find sanctity, belief,
peace, and be touched by the greatest light that shown that night in the City of Light. And it was
good. I sang the words of the great hymn -- "Venite adoremus" -- with conviction... Notre Seigneur
et Sauveur.
And then it was over. I was, in the middle of this Christmas night, en route by rail to Poland via
Belgium enraptured by the greatest reason for loving Paris, the reason found in the last line of Cole
Porter's great tune....



For the lonely at the holidays.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant.
Author's program note. There are about forty days between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day,
depending on just when the first holiday falls... and for millions these can be the most painful days of
the year, a time of acute loneliness, isolation, and despair. All you want to do is put on a brave face...
and get through them as quickly as possible, wounded and sore just as little as possible.
But this year I want you to have the best holidays you've had in years, maybe decades... I want you
to get more, far more, from them, enjoy yourself and spread the maximum joy to the maximum
number. In other words, I want you to be the impresario of happiness, expecting nothing in return,
just the real point of the season: giving joy to the world.
Let's start with music... One of the things that depresses folks at the holidays is the endless
renditions of unbearably chipper, even nauseating holiday ditties, you know, of the "Frosty the
Snowman" variety. So much sugar and fructose is sure to set your teeth on edge. Luckily you can
fight back, at least at home by identifying some non-holiday songs you like and filling your abode
with loveliness, just the things to please you.
In this connection, I selected "The Shadow Waltz" from "Gold Diggers of 1933." It's a pre-code
Warner Bros. musical film directed by Mervyn LeRoy with songs by Harry Warren (music) and Al
Dubin (lyrics), staged and choreographed by Busby Berkeley. It's the perfect film, with the perfect
music to take you out of your sad state and self-pitying condition and set you... dancing. In an
instant your feet will start an insistent tapping that means you must get up and whirl a pillow around
the room.
"In the Winter let me bring the Spring to you/Let me feel that I mean everything to you/ Love's old
song will be new/ In the shadows when I come and sing to you."
One after another, Hollywood's most popular male vocalists (Dick Powell, Bing Crosby, Rudy
Vallee) had a go at this haunting tune and its lilting message,
"Let me linger long/Let me live my song."
Go now to any search engine and see which version you prefer... they're all wonderful.
Now let's get started crafting the holidays you want and which will make you as happy as possible.
1) Plan yourself "Merrie Little Holidays".
Each of us needs a highly personal quantity of the holidays; this can range from 24-hour-a- day
immersion, or just a little bit Christmas morning. You need to determine just how much you need...
and arrange matters accordingly. Remember, there is no "right" answer, no "right" amount. It all
depends on you. Thus, honesty is essential.
Far too many people arrange their holidays according to what others want and expect from them.
But here you're arranging for the precise amount that is perfect for -- you!
2) To make sure you get the proportions just right, write down what you want in priority order and
what you don't. Don't fib... and don't consider any one's wishes but your own. This in itself will
make these holidays distinctive. And if somebody you know doesn't like your choices, advise them
to go to any search engine and find George Gershwin's grand tune "Who Cares?" (lyrics by Ira
Gershwin) from the 1931 musical "Of Thee I Sing".
Offer them one of your least favorite bon-bons; you know, the one you sampled and put back in the


Offer them one of your least favorite bon-bons; you know, the one you sampled and put back in the
box. Serves 'em right. I think you're catching the right spirit now... Now kick up your heels and sing
out...
"Who cares?/ So long as I care for you and you care for me". Oh, mama! The holidays will never be
the same. And isn't that the idea?
3) Plan how many decorations you want. Remember, this is entirely your call. You decide whether
you want a huge display in and out or just one little candle in the window. Again, write down what
you want... and what you don't. Feels good doesn't it? Yeah, I thought you'd like this new approach
to the holidays.
Then do what you've done every year of your life; dig into the attic, basement and closets to review
your decorations. But with a brand-new eye and purpose this year. You are going to use only what
YOU want. Remember, these are YOUR holidays... and the decor must suit but a single person. And
if others don't like it? Revert to George and Ira Gershwin above. "Who cares?"
4) Now food. This is crucial. We all have our holiday favorites, of course; mine are too numerous to
mention. But the holidays wouldn't be the holidays without them. Again, it's time for a list. What
"must" you have? What don't you want under any circumstances. And, yes, complete and total
honesty is required. (Admit it, Aunt Annie's dishes you so extravagantly praised in years past made
you sick to your stomach. Now you don't have to eat them, like them, or praise them. Delicious.)
Having written your list and prioritized what you want, it's time for The Search. Of course this must
be done online. Search under such categories as "comfort food", "comfort food baskets" and the
actual name of particular comfort foods you loved but are not available in your neighborhood now.
In my case, one of my several once loved (and never forgotten) special foods was Jay's Potato Chips.
55 years ago and more, my darling grammie used to give them to me every afternoon when my paper
route ended in her kitchen. Now you may not regard these beloved chips as holiday fare... but I most
assuredly do; along with a bundle of others. You can bet that I'll get a gift basket of them -- for
myself of course -- long before the holidays are over. Will I share it? Don't bet the ranch.
Now choose... alone, a little less alone, not at all alone.
It's time to consider your holiday people options. Do you want a lot, some, or none at all?
Remember it's your choice. Use the tango principle for making it. And thus I give you one of the
greatest tangos ever written: "Orchids in the Moonlight", written for the 1933 film "Flying Down To
Rio". I like Rudy Vallee's seductive version best.
What to wear... or dispense with. Always your choice.
You may think that you've been alone in past years because you're too old, but you're wrong. Any
age is the right age if you have the right attitude and are willing to pull out all the stops. "Orchids in
the Moonlight" will help.
To ignite its smouldering passion, what you need is a broad red ribbon, tied on like the contestants
in the "Miss America" pageant. You'll also need a red, red rose (clenched in your teeth in the
approved manner) and you'll need that all-important melody, the melody Rudy Vallee renders so
well. One more thing: for the ultimate look add a Santa cap. It's such a chic, unutterably alluring
chapeau. Can you really afford to go without it?
Now, dance alone or dance with any number of visitors who accept your invitation. Be sure to keep
some extra ribbon on hand, and some extra roses, too. Some people, imagine, will come unprepared.
Overlook such faux pas, the better to achieve the greater good.



"When orchids bloom in the moonlight/And lovers vow to be true I still can dream in the
moonlight/Of one dear night that we knew."
Lovely, isn't it? Seductive... enchanting. So YOU!
And now it's time for the grand finale, compliments of one of the Great Republic's most scandalous
performers, Josephine Baker. In 1927 she had a hit on her hands, a hit entitled "Then I'll Be Happy."
You'll be happy, too, if you rethink your entire approach to the holidays; indeed, your entire
approach to life. Don't wait for miracles to occur... make your own miracles and share them with
folks less inventive than you are. Here's how this one works: Give these lyrics to each person who
visits you and make them serenade you with them before they leave:
"I wanna go where you go do what you do/Love when you love then I'll be happy I wanna sigh
when you sigh cry when you cry/ Smile when you smile then I'll be happy."
Oh, just one more thing...
... the doorbell just rang. There was a delivery gal with a look of profound respect in her eyes and the
loveliest holiday bouquet. "Dr. Lant," she said, "It's from the President, President Obama, sir." And
she all but saluted. Now you and I know who ordered the flowers and wrote such a fulsome greeting
on the card... but I assure you if he weren't so busy just now he would have sent this colorful and
respectful ensemble himself.
... I wonder if he likes to tango...



Resource
About the Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide
range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business
training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting,
hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online
Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.
Republished with author's permission by Denis Darling http://MyExtremeResults.com.


Christmas makes us laugh and cry! may god laugh with you and dr lant

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Christmas makes us laugh and cry! may god laugh with you and dr lant