Following the National Novel Writing Month debacle, I expected to post immediately to debunk my rambling missives or, more likely, to vent a few high-brow words I'd not been able to use during this year, to whit: debacle, debunk, missive, vent, whit. But each weekend came and went like the remaining quarter of pie in the fridge. I had thoughts to share, yet also the whiff of extra sleep that bade me back to bed. Then I imagined leaving the month of December as a blank slate, given how so many of us were left sad and alone, surrounded by stacks of holiday gifts or locked onto our online video confrontations, leaving no time for putting weary eyes upon this weary page. However, there is still time before Stille Nacht bangs through the playlist again.
Christmas, Yule, Winter Solstice, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, D'uoppo, sLari'i, Ma-Em-To, or whatever you celebrate. It's all good. Main thing is to get together with family and friends, usually at the excuse of a communal meal, often with added rituals, concluding with blessings and wishes for the next year to be better than the current year ending not-soon-enough. So it goes, year after year. And I always believed it would be the same, exactly the same as when I first experienced it: full of wonder, hope, and cheer, with a few toys added. But gradually, it becomes tiresome to get up and do the rituals again, feeling less and less fulfilled in the doing, and more cynical each time I try to trick myself into feeling that holiday mirth.
So it's easy to become bitter - and let's not even consider the special effects of this present year - but bitter is just another taste, or as we see on the TV ads, another "Taste Sensation!" Yes, it's a little like that: the desperate search for sparks (the opposite of triggers) which cause memories to fire and burn bright in our minds. And for an all too brief moment we can feel that same feeling as before, back when this time meant something, when we knew where we were and who we were and everything was right with the world - or, at least, our little corner of it. Then we always slip back, back to the reality we must deal with, strike a bargain, slip some cash over the transom, or write a post-dated check to Dr. Fate, the ultimate debt collector.
Ok, it's not the best holiday season this year. I recommend reading a good book. I have a few which you might enjoy. They're distracting enough that you may forget your troubles for a while. That is probably the main reason people read - more so in troubling times. Whatever works for you. I shall turn off the alarm clock, stay up late writing and editing my next book, and consume much of the dessertary substances around which I may come into contact, for whatever indulgences I indulge in at this time of the year, the follow year provides ample opportunity to forget my lapses and, indeed, to forget everything that does not fit into my perfect world view.
Happy Holidays to you and your associates, short and tall! See you on the other side.
(C) Copyright 2010-2020* by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog.
Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America. (*The year 2020 only counts as 1/4 of a year.)
