Deck the Halls

I wanted to buy a Christmas tree today. It was a department store tree, the already decorated variety. This silvery-white fir was adorned with matching bulbs and snowflakes, and it boasted a shimmering star at the top. I thought about how much I would be willing to pay for such a tree, this quintessential symbol of the holiday season. Five hundred bucks? Seven hundred dollars? One thousand?

I fantasized about buying it, placing it (oh so gently) in the back of my Jeep, and displaying it in my living room. I thought about not even removing the teeny, tiny barcode tags from all the lovely ornaments. They didn’t bother me, and I didn’t want to do any extra work. It was perfect just the way it was, aside from the fact that it wasn’t for sale. And, buying a ready-to-go, completely decorated tree would be a seasonal scam, a complete Christmas con. People are expected to trim their own trees.

Decorating is not fun for me. Each year, my husband brings the boxes of ornaments and other holiday decor from the attic and places them in our living room. I stare at them for a bit, then go fix a cup of coffee. I return to the room and open a couple of boxes, look at a few ornaments, and watch Netflix. I clean the house, grade papers, and take a nap. I do anything I can think of to avoid decorating that tree.

Eventually, my husband becomes frustrated and starts hanging the ornaments on branches. I watch from the sofa and tell him which ones are out of place. He moves them, and we have our first fight of the holiday season.

Just to be clear: I am not a scrooge. I love all things Christmas: music, parties, baked goods, and decorations. I prefer other people’s decorations, though, because mine always look ridiculous. Always.

Take last year for example. I was almost excited that we were going to try using garland for a change. I thought it might give our tree that tied-together look that it had been missing for nearly twelve years. We draped it loosely; then we tried it a bit tighter. I sank back on the couch, disheartened and defeated once again. Our living room looked like a hostage situation. Our tree wasn’t trimmed; it was bound and gagged.

Somehow we got past that moment – like we do every year. I like to think that something magical happens, but it may be that my incredibly patient husband works tirelessly with the lights and garland until it looks more like a Christmas tree and less like a crime scene.

Something was a bit different last year. Once our tree was finished, I began to admire its imperfections. I noticed its bent and broken branches, its disproportionate shape, and its burnt out light bulbs. This time I noticed with a less critical eye. This tree was so much like a human, imperfect by nature and judged by its beauty (or lack of).

This year I am going to get past my decorating woes and fears of having an imperfect tree. My tree will not be perfect, and I’m going to embrace its defects. I also plan to take inventory of my life as I take out my ornaments.

A lot can change in a short time, and our situations are rarely the same from one Christmas to the next. We welcome new babies, say goodbye to loved ones, and sometimes part ways with friends. This year’s tree will be a symbol of triumph. We made it through another year together as a family. We made it through arguments, tears, sleepless nights, and celebrations.

We are here. We have the privilege of experiencing another holiday season together. What a great reason to deck the halls.

***Previously published in Life in 10 Minutes – December 2016

Make Your Own Kind of Music: Commencement Address for Tidewater Academy’s Class of 2024

Melissa Face – Tidewater Academy Graduation – May 24, 2024

Good morning, Dr. Moore, Members of the Board of Directors, Ms. Francis, faculty, staff, parents and Members of the Class of 2024:

I stand here today completely honored to be your graduation speaker. Even though you just listened to my bio, I can assure you that there was a time, back when I roamed senior hall, when I wouldn’t have seemed a likely candidate for this occasion. My grades were average; my college options were minimal, and my attitude left a lot of room for improvement. 

I had a great time in my last couple of years of high school, though. In fact, I enjoyed Algebra One so much that I took it twice. I liked yearbook class and being able to leave campus to sell ads, and I also had fun in PE when our teacher allowed us to jog around town for the entire period. In my 12th grade year, I fought for the senior superlative of class clown the way some teens campaign for student government. I’m happy to say that I was successful in that endeavor. 

Despite my antics and overall lack of seriousness, I received a special recognition on this very stage on the evening of June 1, 1997: the Ethel Price Heckman Bland music award. If I’m being completely honest, I earned that award more so because I wrote a solid essay, than because of my musical abilities. I am neither a vocalist, nor an instrumentalist. But I am a melophile, a true music lover, and you would be hard pressed to find someone who appreciates the power of song more than I do.

Music, as you likely already know, can reach us in ways that other things, and sometimes even people, cannot. Music can console and heal. It can connect, inspire and teach. Music can provide comfort during difficult times and celebrate with us in our moments of triumph.

So, it seemed fitting, on the day that you begin the next step of your journey, that I share with you the gift of song. I have made you a playlist of songs you can turn to through different seasons of life. I’m not saying that they will all be your favorites, but I can tell you that I selected each one because it contains lyrics or a message worth sharing and remembering.

1. For starters, I want you to have some songs for the good times, whether you’re feeling “Happy” like Pharrell, “On Top of the World” like Imagine Dragons or in the midst of a true “Celebration” with Kool & the Gang. I want to encourage you to celebrate your life events beyond what is often considered a special occasion. Don’t wait only for birthdays, graduations, and weddings, but celebrate the smaller successes, too – an A on a paper, a job offer, a first paycheck, or dinner with a friend.

2. I have included some songs with messages of comfort and reminders that you are not alone. Allow Three Little Birds by Bob Marley and the Wailers to reassure you that “every little thing IS going to be alright.” Let Carol King remind you, “When you’re down and troubled” that “You’ve Got a Friend.” And in the moments when the world feels especially dark, lean on the promise of a new day and a fresh start with “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles. 

3. I also decided to add a few one-hit wonders to your playlist. We often think of an artist with only one hit song in a negative context. We tend to focus on the fact that there wasn’t a follow-up hit instead of the other big truth – that they produced a chart-topping song. In many instances, these artists made millions from a singular success, and their songs have stood the test of time. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to imagine a world without “Kung Fu Fighting,” Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” or The Proclaimers “I’m Gonna Be”, more popularly known as 500 Miles. Perhaps these songs can serve as a reminder to take an occasional risk and not to take yourself too seriously. 

4. I hope you won’t mind that I’ve included a few songs for your parents who are undoubtedly wading through a variety of emotions as you close out your high school experience. They are wishing “these days hadn’t gone by so fast” as Trace Adkins sang in “You’re Gonna Miss This.” Be kind to them when they linger in your doorway a little longer or send a few too many texts. Try to remember that while for you, this day took forever to get here, for them, it was only yesterday when they bought your first backpack. I have no doubt that your parents are proud of your efforts and accomplishments thus far. And regardless of your immediate plans, what they want most of all is for you to enjoy your life and take advantage of opportunities and experiences. As Lee Ann Womack sang, “when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, THEY hope you dance.”

5. Because this is YOUR playlist, it only makes sense that some of your songs are on it. On Wednesday, March 13, I asked Ms. Conaway if she could collect a list of your favorite tunes and send them to me by the end of the month. The next day, they were in my inbox. It made me wonder if you were this prompt with all of your submissions this year, or if you really liked this task. Either way, you aced the assignment. 

You sent songs with messages about appreciating what you have like Gavin Adcock’s Ain’t No Cure and songs that celebrate the party atmosphere and pay tribute to a hard day’s work like Jason Aldean’s Lights Come on and Brooks & Dunn’s Boot Scootin’ Boogie. 

You sent songs with lyrics that offer wisdom and advice, like “take your time, don’t live too fast, troubles will come and they will pass” in Simple Man by Shinedown and songs with themes about making the world and ourselves better including Creed’s Higher and Cody Johnson’s By Your Grace. 

You shared songs that make you laugh like the familiar Beastie Boys’ vibe of Double Jump by Joey Valence and Brae, as well as tunes that can commiserate with you on the days that seem to be filled with more thorns than roses like Flower Shops by Ernest, featuring Morgan Wallen. 

You also sent songs about charting your own course in life like Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield, leaving your mark on the world in Tattoos on This Town and songs about making your dreams come true like Baby Girl by Sugarland.

A playlist with all of these songs and a few more can be found in my Spotify library under the title Tidewater Academy Class of 2024. I hope that you will listen to it, enjoy it and perhaps even learn a new song or two. 

Before I close, I’d like to leave you with one final song that contains what I consider one of life’s most important messages. There will be times when you are fighting for something you believe in and no one is standing next to you. I hope you will remember that being alone in your fight does not mean you are wrong. In 1969, Cass Elliot sang, 

“Nobody can tell ya

There’s only one song worth singing…

You’ve gotta make your own kind of music

Sing your own special song

Make your own kind of music

Even if nobody else sings along.”

Congratulations, Class of 2024. We can’t wait to hear the music you make!

I Love You More Than Coffee: A Guided Journal for Moms is available for pre-order!

I Love You More Than Coffee: A Guided Journal for Moms (Fall ’22)

I Love You More Than Coffee: A Guided Journal for Moms

by Melissa Face

Like many, you’ve probably encountered a tale about being a mom and thought to yourself, “Hey, I could write that!” Well, now is your chance! An inspired companion piece to Melissa Face’s previously published collection of essays about mothering, this isn’t for your children—it’s all for you, for the here and now. You’ll be able to journal while considering and pondering a wide range of themes, from fussy eaters to carving out time for you to decompress. So go ahead and fill your cup to the brim with a yummy brew, find your best writing pen, and spill it all!  

Pre-order with the QR code below:

I Am a 2022 Motherscope Contributor!

Motherscope Magazine is one of my favorite platforms for sharing stories and experiences about motherhood. I have been fortunate to have my essays appear in two of Motherscope’s print publications: Choose Your Own Motherhood and Generations (pictured below).

Last year, Motherscope’s publisher posted a call out for regular contributors to the magazine’s online platform. I applied, but I wasn’t accepted. So, guess what? I applied again this year, and I was selected as one of Motherscope’s 31 contributors for 2022! I am proud to be among these incredibly talented writers, and I am proud that I tried again when it didn’t work out the first time.

Look for my writing and the work of these incredible people on Motherscope’s weekly online journal!

Motherscope Magazine – Generations Issue

Happy Birthday, Buddy

The Buddy Holly Story, an album that belongs to my uncle

By Melissa Face

“Whose birthday is it?” the woman at the bakeshop asked.

“Buddy Holly’s,” I said, as I handed her my credit card.

“Oh. Okay.” She smiled and passed back my card and receipt.

During the pandemic, my family and I held several interesting celebrations. We hosted a Hollywood dinner party where we dressed as celebrities. We threw our own carnival that included a homemade popcorn stand, games, and many, many prizes. I even gave my daughter a unicorn party when she completed kindergarten and read her first book independently. And in September, we had a party to celebrate Buddy Holly’s birthday.

“What’s your connection to Buddy Holly?” my friend Libby asked me. She had seen the Facebook pictures of the singer’s face on a round cake and wondered what and who we were celebrating. It was a fair question, but at the time I wasn’t sure how to answer it.

When I was fourteen, I was infatuated with Buddy Holly. I stood in front of my dual cassette player, waiting for the oldies countdown on 96.5. I pressed the record button just in time to get the first few notes of “That’ll Be the Day”, thus completing my homemade greatest hits tape. No one spoke to me in those years the way Buddy Holly did. His sweet, hiccupy sound drew me in, and I longed to know him and wished I could date him. I tried to make sense of how someone could be so quickly snuffed out of the world at such a young age. I didn’t understand it.

It became an obsession for a while. I watched La Bamba each time it ran on tv and always cried at the end. I memorized the lyrics to Don McLean’s song, “The Day the Music Died” and though I felt sad for all three singers, Buddy’s death affected me the most. I scrolled through websites in search of more information about Buddy’s life: his wife, his inspiration, and an explanation for the plane crash. I was fixated on a tragedy from 1959 until one hit much closer to home.

In 2003, my younger sister was killed in a car accident during an afternoon thunderstorm. She hydroplaned, veered into oncoming traffic, was hit from the side, and died instantly. For years, I have struggled with questions like “why her?” and “why did this happen to my family?”. They are normal questions to ask, but there are no answers for them.

What I have learned, though, in an attempt to answer the hard questions and make sense of tragedy is that there really isn’t a wrong way to grieve. It’s so personal and the loss of a loved one affects every family member in a different way. It is okay to find consolation and connections in unusual places.

Music offered me a coping mechanism that religion could not. Buddy’s music, in particular, bridged the chasm between life and death. Talking about what happened to him was easier than talking about my sister, but it still helped me sort those same feelings of unfairness, uncertainty, and disbelief.

My family and I are planning a road trip next summer. We want to take our children to Asheville, North Carolina, Memphis, Tennessee, and eventually over to Lubbock, Texas –  Buddy Holly’s hometown. I’m looking forward to seeing his statue, taking a photo with his giant horn-rimmed glasses, and driving past some of his favorite hangouts. It will be a trip with a couple of different purposes – a way to honor someone whose life deserves to be remembered, as well as another step on my own road toward healing.