Two weeks to the Big Day. Hope swells in the hearts of children young and old. A Christmas Story is one of my favorites for the Holidays. Ralphie dreams of owning a Red Rider BB Gun. His mother informs him that he will shoot his eye out. What a quandary.

There is the Major Award for the Old Man or the Leg Lamp. A fine art object of rare beauty and unique curves Ralphie discovers. Suddenly it falls and breaks…all seems lost…along with Bumpas Dogs eating the turkey… Christmas is over. Yet there is the Chinese restaurant with a cooked goose with the head attached. Where there is a will there is a way. Christmas is saved!

So it goes. Reversals happen daily. Life is unique, with its twists and turns, as we often learn. When care is getting you down a bit, stop awhile, but don’t quit.

I remember when Neva J swore she would not cook Christmas dinner on a cold December 25th. She announced we would eat out at Two Tony’s Smorgasboard. In those halcyon days, two were in West Frankfort and Carmi, Illinois. Early advised that most restaurants closed on Christmas Day. Neva J would hear none of it. She was on a crusade for Christmas Dinner served to her…all you can eat…

We drove to both of the Two Tony’s where a sign in the window proudly informed that the staff was home with their families enjoying Christmas Dinner. We drove over Southern Illinois with no room in the Inn.

Poor Boys saved Christmas for us. A market in Harrisburg was open. They had ground chuck by the pound. Neva J fried it up and we had some delicious Christmas Burgers.

Earl’s brother Denny invited us over to his luxurious home in Eldorado. It was decked out for Santa. Beautiful Christmas Trees and Christmas Ornaments. Hot chocolate and apple cider with Christmas music playing.

A bit of Grand Marnier is good at Christmas. The orange Holiday flavor adds to the season. MJ and I were in St. Charles, Missouri Thursday and our favorite restaurant had been sold. They no longer had my traditional Grand Marnier. I have corrected my loss this afternoon.

I remember when a BB Gun was a big deal! I recall when a Big Swinger Polaroid Camera seemed unattainable. I remember when I had to save my pennies to produce a dime to purchase a glass of whole milk at the restaurant on State Street.

Who can we bless this Christmas? How can we be the Angel of Christmas to someone forgotten…

‘Christmas Eve is two weeks away,’ Jane said with joy. ‘This year will be the best with Uncle Buddy coming home on leave from Vietnam,’ Jane continued. ‘He was in the stuff in the jungle and lost his best friend,’ she said with tears in her eyes.

‘Grandma A is hosting Christmas Dinner for the family with all cousins aunts, and uncles present with their food specialties and appetites,’ Billy B advised. ‘There will be a place set for Uncle Dutch as has been for every year since WWII when he went Missing In Action,’ Billy B said. ‘Uncle Dutch has had an empty seat at the Christmas Table since 1944,’ Billy B said.

‘I am happy Grandma A invited Thelma and me to Christmas Dinner as it has been lonely without Dad this past year,’ Chet said quietly. ‘One day he was with us and the next he is gone,’ Chet said. ‘We were going to smoke a turkey for Christmas this year,’ Chet continued.

‘Happy Christmas…come in my home is your home…,’ Grandma A proclaimed. ‘There will be surprises on this special day,’ Grandma A smiled.’ ‘Today marks the birth of Christ we celebrate with gifts and a feast…often the homeless have nothing and must watch through the foggy windows of our heated homes while they wait in the cold,’ Grandma A admonished. ‘Follow me through the back door of the back porch into another room,’ Grandma A said with a knowing wink.

‘Welcome Grandma A…and all…we have been waiting before we start the feast,’ CP laughed uproariously! ‘There is every delicacy imaginable and our hosts have invited us to partake of all with them,’ CP roared with a slap on the back of Billy B. ‘Plum Pudding and Roast Goose Mulled Wine and Candy from Heaven better known as Turkish Delight,’ CP laughed.

Has there been a subtle change we were not informed of,’ Neva J asked? ‘We are here with Uncle Dutch and Carol Chet’s Dad,’ she noted. ‘Also I do not recall this big banquet hall outside the back door of Grandma A’s Back Porch,’ she laughed nervously. ‘We came in the front door with the cares of the world and went out the back door with the lightness of being only God can provide,’ Neva J whispered…

It is a gray day in Little Egypt. There are many in winter. Not really cold or warm. A bit like life. Christmas lights help. Joy comes from within.

Christmas is fast approaching. It is a time to reflect on our year and the year to come. I learned a life lesson: to count on myself if I want to change my life. No barbarians at the gate awaiting knights on white horses crusaders to vanquish them. We are individually the ones who are sent to bring peace on earth and goodwill to men.

We are not all bad or good. We are a mixture. On our best days, we sore to lofty heights. On our worse days, we grovel under the shadow of a rock to hide us. The cavalry is not riding to save us. We must save ourselves. Throwing stones at our perceived enemies is not the answer…that has given us the shape of our current distress.

When I was a supervisor manager at Southern Illinois University I noticed that I disarmed my critics by being nice to them. Ill words and thoughts expect the same in return. Kind words mollify hate.

Word Weapons receive the same in kind. Armed encampments are easy to understand is hard. Living the Baby Jesus teachings is understood through actions, not rhetoric. We believe what we see more than what we hear.

Today we carry a gun in my day we might have a pocket knife. Fire fights fire we cry. There is nothing but ashes.

Christ came to us in a lowly state. Mom and Dad were poor and without shelter for his birth. Something quiet but powerful happened. Religious leaders of the day were unaware. The Prince Of Peace joined us for a season. Pharisees and Sadducees counted their shekels. Money Changers continued to weigh the profit of religion. Rome ruled. A change began that has been profound. Swords did not bring it about. Money did not buy it. It was a matter of Heart…

Fall is coming to its final days. Last week it felt like midwinter. Now it is raining and nearly 50 degrees. Change is happening. At this time of year, it occurs to me that Christmas will soon be here, and then it will be in our rearview mirror.

Elusive it is this Christmas Thing. We feel it in a song. We see it in a child’s eyes. A smile brightens our holiday. It can be found in the strangest of places. It can hide in plain sight.

Watching Jonathon portraying a Wiseman in the Church Christmas Pagent followed by a potluck with Lee and Jennifer. Little Lambs for our Nativity. The Cigar Bar at Paducah and Jamaican Meatloaf. The uneven brick streets and sidewalks of St. Charles. The gift of peace in the child-like eyes of the old.

Christmas Hope is the reason for the Season. We seek a land of progress not regress. Going forward is our goal. Our life parameters do not fit everyone…one size does not fit all.

Within each of us, there is a battle. Positive and negative thoughts vie for our attention throughout our days. Some live in the eternal night of discontent. Others choose to see the light. No matter how hard we try we will never be everyone’s cup of tea. We are an acquired taste.

A little girl sits by the heating grate outside the Broadway Theatre. She is ill-clad and cold. Her brother has gone to the Homeless shelter to see if there is room ‘In The Inn.’ Carolers sing across the street. Tears are in her eyes as they sing, ‘Away in a manger no crib for a bed the little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head…’

The Big Day is almost here. We will gather together in fellowship and celebration of who we are. Hope reigns supreme this time of year.

One of my favorite Christmas movies is entitled A Christmas Tale. It is a French movie. The flick’s depiction of a family and how they interact with each other is real. The sister in the movie has disowned her older brother and, after paying off his debt, asks him to commit to never speaking to her again. The matriarch of the family has bone cancer and needs a bone marrow transfusion from one of her relatives. The recalcitrant daughter has a son with schizophrenia. A younger brother has married a woman the two brothers and cousin decided was best for him and thus the cousin withdrew his pursuit of the lovely woman. The patriarch loves jazz and runs a dye factory. The older brother and the grandson are matches for the bone marrow transfusion.

Amid family strife is love and acceptance and a great Christmas Play. A revelation by the woman who was bartered for the brother who needed her more according to the committee…that the Vuliard Cousin has always loved her and has been miserable since the day he could not be with her. A Christmas Eve Mass where Mother and the shunned son she has never cared for attend. In other words…real life…

We love White Christmas and Bing Crosby’s crooning. Most of us do not fit the Vanilla Mold. Disagreements happen and walls are built. We are separated and have forgotten the reason why…

Mythic mystic mysterious qualities dwell with us at Christmas. We seek acceptance for who we are. Our short lives are marked by occurrences we did not see coming that have lasting effects.

We Do Not Fit The Mold People will gather around the Holiday Table. Love in our own way. Accept those who are different than us. Glad for our diverse journey following the Star. The Baby lay in the Manger. He accepts. He is love and light. Everyone has a place at the table. Unique in our foibles and hurts we look for kind eyes. We search for new beginnings. We hope for a Christmas miracle.

‘So it is Christmas and what have we done another year over and a new one has just begun…’ Soon we will sing these poignant words. Our truth follows us like a shadow. Many days we have enjoyed some we have endured some we have wiled away like the grasshopper watching the ant working. Now the ledgers are being dusted off. The pencils sharpened the calculations written erased and rewritten. I like pencils. They have erasers, which are a good thing.

We sons and daughters of Earth make mistakes. Our best intentions are foiled by folly. We set sail in the morning with clear skies and smooth waters only to encounter rough seas by sunset.

Silent Night, Holy Night, we sing. Our hearts are full of the love and hope of the season. Everything is possible as the shepherds follow the star. The hope of mankind has come. The Prince of Peace. There was no room in the Inn. A stable was his first home, and animals were his roommates.

Life has not changed. There are taxes to pay and governments to please. Parochial Partisan leaders issue edicts from their lofty perch. Their power is endless. Perhaps they will not die. Are they the second coming of Christ…

The Babe looks meek and mild. Not a thought of hate in his heart. He comes in love from his Dad who is love. The Wisemen understand the difference. Not a moneymaker a peacemaker…

Dark-skinned people stood before the Baby in the manger. His skin was dark…Mediterranean. The United States did not exist. There was no America for Americans to talk about.

‘What a wonderful smell,’ Billy B said with delight. ‘The cigar reminds me of my first boss at SIU a cigar smoker…Jim,’ Billy B continued. ‘I could always smell him before I saw him,’ Billy B laughed.

‘Sit down and visit with your foreman…I am your boss you can sit a minute when your boss requests it,’ Jim smiled… ‘I have been waiting for you,’ Jim winked.

‘Look all the way in the back in the corner…it is Dad,’ Chet gestured with a wide grin. ‘He is smoking his favorite Charles Denby Cigars and has a glass of rye whiskey in front of him,’ Chet observed wonderfully. ‘Dad has been gone a long time,’ Chet whispered.

‘It is relaxing here…with the giant ashtrays and low light,’ Humphrey said. Lauren will be here soon. I have ordered her a Dirty Martini,’ Humphrey noted with satisfaction. Sometimes she brings Jason with her…we are an all-in-the-family group at the Cigar Bar,’ Humphrey laughed dryly.

‘I used to say ask not what your country can do for you but rather…what the heck…there is Marylin,’ JFK said. ‘I’ll be damned she has Frank Sammy Dean and Joey with her,’ JFK smiled his toothy grin. ‘Well…we stopped Russia in the 60s but this is a different time with weak leaders,’ JFK mused as he poured Marylin a Scotch.

‘Drinks for the House and Cohibas for all,’ Fidel announced as he walked in. ‘Mr. President may I join your entourage,’ Fidel asked with a long Cohiba protruding from his lips. ‘It has been too long…where is Jackie,’ Fidel asked? ‘We must discuss the present distress before it is too late,’ Fidel proclaimed.

‘Ari O is sitting in the corner waiting for her I think,’ he waved when I came in,’ JFK answered. ‘Ari is a Prick and a womanizer…never the less I believe in keeping secrets,’ JFK smiled. ‘Fidel…we must aid in discovering peace before it is too late,’ JFK mused as he took a long draw from his Cohiba…

‘Ho…Ho…Ho…Merry Christmas,’ Santa said with a dimple on his cheek and smoke circling his head like a wreath. ‘I did not know you enjoyed Cigars Billy B,’ Santa said. ‘Jonathon told me that he was going to bring you to the Cigar Bar…please join me and Donald in our Christmas discussions,’ Santa Clause said with a wink.

‘Do I really have to write this 1 million times…’I have been naughty, not nice,’ Donald asked?

The big day is here. It’s time to prepare for Christmas. The lists are in. The requests have been made. Santa is aware. Classical Christmas is on Apple Music. Turkey is behind us,aand joy is before us.

We ride our horse-drawn sleigh through the woods, the new-fallen snow glistening. The Deer Family nods their heads and smiles at us. We wait for the Turkey Family to Turkey Trot across the path. We drink happily from the spiced apple cider. Christmas Dreams fill our heads. Stars fill our eyes.

A little girl sits by the side of the Woods Path. She is ill-clad and ill-fed. We are all laughing, but sheiis crying.

Join us we cry…come aboard. We have plenty to share…

Now we feel complete. Joy has taken up residence in our hearts. The Little Girl sings with us, ‘Joy to the world’…

It is Thanksgiving Eve. The turkeys are cooking. The pumpkin pies are on the window sill to cool. Loved ones are coming home. Mylo is freshly groomed. Hopes are at their zenith. Anxious fears are gone. All will be well if we stick together.

Soon we will gather around the fireplace and tell tales. Victories won and lost. Health scares and health improvements. Romances rekindled as we placed another log on the fire. New jobs and new opportunities. Faith that has abided through the storm and sunlight. The family we have not seen in years. Relationships mended. Excitement renewed…

War surrounds us yet we are safe from the storm. Hate is outside our door but it has not been invited in. Hope for a better world. A world of love and acceptance inclusive as God intended. No more self immolation. No more yokes of guilt for being who we are. Freedom to love and be loved.

We have a sanctuary. Sticks and stones can not reach us here. Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is on. The joyfulness of the performers is infectious. We want to dance with the Rockettes. Flying with the character balloons, we see the world clearly. Our fears are shadows. Our anger is misplaced. The Grand Experiment is love and joy, not fear and loathing.

We affix our masks securely before we leave our house each morning. The mask fits naturally. We have constructed our mask with care. They represent what we want the world to see.

Politicians, Preachers, and Leaders have personas. They wear masks that have proven their worth. When we think of a person, we think of their persona. The real person is resting at home by the fireside. We are complex. We are a mystery to ourselves.

The politician tells us what he thinks we want to hear. He or she is advised what it takes to get elected. The politician decided years ago what he or she wanted to portray. When constituents speak to the Mask, they are met with prescribed responses—a bit like talking with AI. Masks are not flexible.

Carl Jung advised of the danger of getting lost in your persona. Remember the Twilight Zone episode where greedy adults were awaiting the death of their father in order to receive his inheritance? Their father gave them each a mask with the grotesque visage of their real self. When they removed the Masks, their faces had molded to the Masks.

Many follow their favorites Persona or Mask. Entertainment has bled into politics and both have morphed into religion. We follow the Rock And Roll Show until it becomes our reality. Once we buy into the Show we are hooked.