It was very cold. A light breeze riffled the naked trees wrapped in lights. Music was playing by the exhibit building. Alone, in the dark and cold, by the glow of thousands of Christmas, one couple danced.
Not so long ago, that would have been Garry and I. Not that we are such great dancers (we aren’t) but because we were so happy to dance together.
But this night we are not so young. Our backs hurt and the cold is nipping at our feet and fingers. I had a sentimental moment … and then I knew we needed to warm up, inside, away from the starlight and music. But it brought back happy memories and the young couple made me smile.
When you drop by my little site, please leave with an armful of bright orange pumpkin. Carry it, cradle it, hug it to your breast. It is yours to do with as you will. You can do no wrong as long as it brings you joy and makes you smile.
Carve it or cook it. Stand it on your doorposts with a painted scowl or a sunshiny smile. Celebrate the growth of the earth or the remembrance of the dead.
Dress your pumpkin as dreadful death. Or leave it naked to the elements. A pumpkin can be food for your body, a pie of total delight and a scent rising to heaven. May I share? Or it can be candy for all eyes, the richest color plucked from a season of rich colors.
Come to my place and take your pumpkin. Pumpkins, pumpkins for all the world. Pumpkins are waiting for you. You may pick the best or the least of the bounty I offer.
It’s not Halloween yet, but the posts are up on Facebook proclaiming that “Merry Christmas” is the only correct way to greet people during this season of fellowship and good cheer. To say “Happy Holidays” is anti Christmas. Anti Christian. Part of an international plot to destroy Christmas. What, you didn’t know that? Well, neither did I but I have been recently enlightened. I had to restrain myself from buying the book. It was on sale on (where else?) Facebook, called something like (I should have saved the link) “The Conspiracy (Plot?) to Eliminate (Eradicate?) Christmas.” Clearly there’s more to the story, but I leave it to others to fill in those blanks. Or not.
If ever an argument was perfectly designed to suck the joy out of the season, this is it. Sure, let’s make everyone feel self-conscious about wishing someone else a happy whatever. I’m pretty sure these are the same people who complain about excessive political correctness and/or the continued (obviously) anti-Christian separation of church and state. I never cease being amazed how some folks can hold completely contradictory opinions without noticing the irony, much less the illogic. But, as usual, I digress.
Call me insensitive, but I don’t see how a greeting as bland as Happy Holidays can be anti anything. It is neutral and inclusive. For those who haven’t noticed, there are a lot of holidays bundled into this short season. Christmas is just one of them so whatever you say in greeting is fine with me. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the thought that counts.
Why in the world does it matter to anyone what holidays I celebrate or how I celebrate them? If I’m not preventing you from doing whatever you want to do in your own home, your own church, what is your problem? Celebrate Christmas. Deck the halls. Decorate trees. String lights. Dress up as Santa. Go caroling. Put a manger with baby Jesus on your front lawn. I’m not Christian, don’t want to be, but that doesn’t mean I’m against you.
But. Please don’t put your crèche in my yard or the middle of my town. There are plenty of churches in town. They put up lots of Christmas displays. If that’s not enough, sorry, but it’s my world too. I’m not anti Christian and I’m not persecuting you or anyone. I’m merely trying to enjoy the season. My way. I won’t be offended if you wish me a Merry Christmas. Feel free to wish me happy anything and I’ll be delighted to wish you a happy whatever in return.
I think every person of every faith or no faith is entitled to celebrate — or not celebrate — the season however they want. Stop prating how others are disrespecting your faith while you trample roughshod over theirs. A lot of Christians are an embarrassment to Jesus, who was a proper Rabbi and a good Jew.
So what’s it to you if I want to celebrate the Winter Solstice while you celebrate Christmas? Let’s have more parties, more festivals. More happiness. Be of good cheer. We don’t need more acrimony.
The holidays are coming like a freight train on a long downhill run, stopping for no one and nothing. It doesn’t matter to me how you express your joy in the season. Just be happy. For yourself. For all of us. Stop being petty and mean-spirited. Christianity isn’t the only or oldest faith. No one owns the franchise on holidays. Show some of that Christian spirit and love your neighbor. Or at least pretend.
Long ago in a land far away, we had a Siamese cat. Mao — “cat” in Chinese. I don’t know if that’s Mandarin, Cantonese or some other dialect, but it was a good name.
We got Mao as a tiny kitten. From day 1, he was a feisty, chatty cat. Our first cat, which his name reflected. Mao Ee (Cat 1). There were, of course, many others over the decades in all the places and houses in I’ve called home, but there’s never been another cat anything like Mao.
When we traveled, friends took care of our house. I was a great grower of plants back then. Feeding the cats was one part of the job … but watering the 200 plus plants was — or should have been — the bigger task. Frank — best friend’s husband — was often tasked with house care in our absence. Mao was a thinking cat. A logical cat. He decided we were gone because Frank had driven us away. Thus if Mao could drive Frank away, we would come home.
Thus, when Frank came to the house to feed and water cats and plants, Mao attacked him. I don’t mean a little pounce, a playful swat. It was all out warfare. Mao crouched in shadows and attacked, all 20 claws outstretched, going for gore. Poor Frank loved cats and he and Mao had always gotten along fine. He had no idea why Mao was out to get him.
The moment we came back, Mao was back to normal, friend to the world. He had obviously been right because we were back … ergo, it must have been because he drove The Invader (Frank) away. Logical, yes? After that, Mao attacked everyone who took care of the house in our absence. He was the terror of Our Crowd. It got increasingly difficult to get someone to take care of things while we were gone.
The years moved on and Mao moved with us. There were children, jobs, bigger houses, dogs. Life. We held celebrations … big Thanksgiving dinners. One memorable occasion, we had a full house including a dozen and half people and featuring a huge turkey. When the turkey was roasted, I put it out on the counter to set while I moved food in the dining room and greeted arriving guests.
I wasn’t gone 10 minutes. When I got back to the kitchen, Mao was on the counter, finishing off a drumstick. Its remains were still attached to the turkey — a ragged, conspicuously gnawed hole. Not the presentation I had in mind.
The husband and I consulted. We agreed and served the bird as it was.
“What happened to the turkey,” asked the friends and family.
“Mao got to it,” I said.
“Oh,” they said. “Pass the bird.”
It was a good Thanksgiving. Mao was some cat.
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