There are some questions that make no sense. One of them is, “Are you ready for Christmas?”
I guess the answer is, it depends. If you are shopping the answer is probably no, especially if you are a male.
If you are working retail, the answer probably isn’t printable.
If you are homeless, what difference does it make?
If you are religious, it depends on where you are looking..
If your heart is broken does it matter?
Ready? Ready for what?
Christmas is such a confusing time, really.
Is it about Ho Ho Ho or Holy, Holy, Holy?
I grew up with both. Santa was the jolly old man who bought presents and in return we left him a bottle of beer that was suspiciously the same as my dad drank:(hindsight). We also did the nod to God in a much less overt way: the proverbial Sunday school play and Christmas carols. Candy or Christ..Presents or Passion? One of my religious friends jokes:” Santa-Satan..a coincidence..I think not.”
Here I am, north of 50 and if anything the two camps are much more divided. You can’t celebrate Christmas overtly but you can celebrate shopping. You can celebrate the Holiday Season as long as you don’t mention Jesus. One is viewed as sentimental the other as essential to the economy.
I compromised this year. I sat on Santa’s knee((sorry Curtis)..okay kinda on his knee, didn’t want to bust it and I will find a place, a quiet place and contemplate Christ -mass.
Hope you have a Ho Ho Holy Christmas.
One of the first experiences of childhood that is a lesson about life is Bumper Cars.
Remember you get to ‘drive’, albeit in a contained space that smells like burnt rubber. Everyone laughs and you learn strategy: you either engage with violence or avoid with a passion. Then it happens out of no where bam..your neck snaps when someone gets you or you get stuck..you can’t go forward and you can’t go back.
When you are ‘north’ of 50 you can experience in life those bumper car moments…smashed, stuck or on the run.
I am still looking for humor in my bumper car moments.
A few weeks ago I saw a bug in my rented room. Not recognizing it I assumed it might be a cockroach. Funny how the very name cockroach elicits fear and feelings of uncleanness . I texted my roommate. He thought an official inspection was warranted and a professional exterminator. My landlord was in a dither wondering what to do. He searched relentlessly through the internet to find out what it could be.
That fear was minimal compared to my brother. I happened to casually mention while on the way to his house I thought I saw a cockroach in my room. That was it. He made me empty all my clothes outside in his driveway and put them in a garbage bag to be shaken out later. He made me put my suitcase and laundry basket back in the car. And then he made me strip before I entered his house. It wasn’t too embarrassing til his neighbor yelled out, “That isn’t a cockroach”. There is only one thing worse than a ‘noid’ and that is a paranoids.
The mystery was solved by my diligent landlord who took the corpse and correctly identified it as a box elder bug..harmless. It was over, a tempest in a teapot.
p.s. parts of this story may have been embellished for comedic sake..just saying