The cold wind cut like a knife. A shock to the system. Winter is here in all of its glory. Passing cars, drivers look at the Old Man in the winter Woods. The Lodge has closed for the season, and the road block is up, yet the Old Man persists in his Woods Walk. Is he possessed by the spirit of the Wood Gnomes that are being searched for? Did he have a pre-Christmas visit with Santa Claus? He wondered if the toys would be enough this year. So many are in need. Many children were hungry and lacked basic winter essentials, such as coats, gloves, and winter hats and scarves. Was there still time to purchase some mittens and snow shoes for the kids?

Time passes like the winter wind. It waits for no one. It is not a respector of calendars nor plans. The Old Man had been thinking of Christmas since July. He liked Christmas in July. Christmas twice a year would please him. The fall arrived, and joy abounded. There were hayrides and hot cocoa, Jack-O-Lanterns, and the headless Horseman. Thanksgiving was a special treat with Jennifer Lee, Annelise Ron, and Ira Kaye. A Black Friday Holiday Cigar or two made the day complete. Grand Rivers, Kentucky, afforded a lovely family Christmas with the Tennessee Brooks. Two-inch pork chops in a private Victorian Christmas-decorated dining room made the time special.

Now Christmas is 10 days away. Soon it will be here and gone, and I will verbalize my Christmas wish on January 1st, because Christmas has not yet occurred this year. So, like all of our brief lives, we wait for the hope of our hearts. Perhaps you may not have thought how important Christmas is to millions. Many wait to address serious medical conditions until the New Year.

We sing the Christmas spiritual: ‘Sweet little Jesus Boy, they made you born in a manger/Sweet little Holy child, didn’t know you’d come to save us, Lord to take our sins away.’ ‘Long time ago, you were born, Born in a manger low, Sweet little Jesus Boy. The world treat you mean, Lord, Treat me mean too, But that’s how things is down here – We don’t know who you is. You done told us how, we is a tryin!’ ‘Just seem like we can’t do right, look how we treated You. But please, Sir, forgive us, Lord – We didn’t know twas you.’

So we are trying and waiting. Christmas brings the hope of all things. We look into the Baby’s eyes to see beyond the Veil. We know there is more than we realize. We look through thick cheesecloth at our future. We peer through a glass darkly. The shepherds see the Star in the east. Their hearts are full of expectation and joy for the future. ‘For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour who is Christ the Lord. You shall find the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger because there was no room for him in the Inn.’

Mean words are often uttered by powerful leaders. Think little of it. The plan is already underway. ‘Nation shall rise up against nation, but the end is not yet.’ ‘Men shall be lovers of themselves more than lovers of God.’ Help us, Lord, as this applies to most of us.

‘We didn’t know who you were.’

Jesus turned over the money changers’ tables and fashioned a whip out of cords, we proclaim as we advocate for Christ for the few.

‘We didn’t know who you were.’

Let the homeless and hungry, including their spawn get jobs. They are among the Great Unwashed and unrecognized.

‘We didn’t know who you were.

Today it is cold. Bitter cold. A day to forgo the Woods Walk. A day to stay in the warm Den. Uno is our new game, taught to us by Morgan. It is fun, easy, and fast. Do not forget to call out Uno. Brooks Pond is icing over, only to thaw by mid-week, when temperatures will return to the 60s.

Time is fluid. You can not hold on to it. There is Aunt Vema and Uncle Ed after Christmas dinner at Neva Js, laughing and talking about heading back to Stonefort before darkness fell, while Vema chain-smoked. Neva J was in her Christmas glory. She had been preparing since Thanksgiving for the big day. What appeared to observers from afar to take a day or two of preparation required a month for Neva J. The Old Man thought of Christmas Vacation from school and visits to the Orpheum Theatre. He thought of Scrooge and Tiny Tim and the moral of the lovely story of Victorian England. He played with his new miniature pool table, which he fit into his small bedroom. The pool table and the 12-inch black and white television represented Christmas Nirvana. Billy B had his own sense of place in the midst of the country home of Neva J. The coal/wood stove adjacent to the kitchen was cherry red with fire for the entire house. Box fans assisted in the heat distribution of the antique stove.

Aaron and Jonathon’s eyes were bright with Christmas surprise. They had received a Nintendo 64. They could not believe their good fortune. MJ and I marvelled at the technology whereby you could play baseball on the television screen. It was a Brave New World. Granda Fernie and Grandpa Berl would be arriving soon. Granpa Earl and Grandma Neva J would be bringing the smoked ham, and Neva J would enjoy multiple shots of rum when she arrived. The large Christmas Tree was festooned with blinking bubble lights and silver garland. Rum Cake and box wine were enjoyed by the 24 people enjoying the Christmas Mystery in a warm four-room house. There was laughter and song as everyone talked at once. We were rich in spirit and the Gift of the Magi. Life was a riddle revealed at Christmas. A Blo-Mould Nativity sat next to the Japanese Maple Tree in the front yard. Jesus, Mary and Joseph were lit with the light of the Star of Bethlehem. The fine Porcelain Nativity purchased by MJ and the Old Man sat in a seat of esteem. It was their proudest Christmas possession.

The lake effect winds of Chicago blew with Christmas passion. Billy B, Neva J, Ivy Susie, and Steve attended the movie Lady And The Tramp. People were everywhere. All were carrying brightly wrapped Christmas Packages. Billy B was overwhelmed. He wanted to live with the Darling family and be a part of Lady and Tramp’s life. Christmas morning, he sat under the humongous Christmas Tree with Neva J and his Dad Bill. They looked so happy. Billy B had Laughing Santa on his lap. Laughing Santa was his constant friend.

We exchanged Dirty Santa Christmas gifts with Marcy Brock, Jaime Morgan and Jeb. I received a glass inscribed with Brooks. I love it. MJ received a coffee cup with drawings of male genitalia. She loves it. We dined in a private dining room with Victorian Christmas decorations, and it was wonderful. Jeb and I laughed about the two-inch pork chops. We thought next time perhaps the inch pork chops would be sufficient. We stopped for a Whisky shot pour and had a ten-dollar shot. It said Christmas Angelic Joy. The name of the Whisky was Angel Envy.

So how does this time of year give us such enduring memories? We see each other through the eyes of the Baby in the Manger. Our preoccupied human eyes receive the Balm of Gilead. For a time, we know our purpose. We understand our mission. The fog clears. It really is about the birth so long ago in a barn with the Wisemen and Shepherds. It really is about the Promise and the Mystery.

The Old Man felt the temperature drop. He could feel it in his bones. Old Bones feel the cold more. The Christmas Woods were quiet except for their inhabitants. Winter is just the time for sleep. The time of joy was coming. The time of the Peacemaker. The time of the lion and the lamb. Chill factors below 0 require woolen pajamas and warm house shoes.

We seek that which we have lost. We seek home. We are unmoored and feel unwanted because we have lost our home. The place that connects us to society. The place that links us to others. Our Sanctuary of rest, thought, and sense of place. No matter how much we travel, there is no place like home.

Our nation is in a quandary and a battle over the home. Who shall be home in the United States? Are we the Great Experiment where we are the Home for the Homeless? ‘With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.’

So many ships are untethered. They are not secured to the boat dock. The cold winter wind blows hard, tossing the boats about. The lake wind is bitterly cold. How will the boaters have Christmas dinner if they can not stay secure to the dock? The cookery will break in the confusion. Confusion breeds discontent and worry.

‘Come to the Christmas Feast,’ Mr. Toad cried aloud. ‘We are having figgy pudding and roast goose,’ Mr. Toad laughed and danced. ‘All are welcome, no one shall be left out,’ Mr. Toad proclaimed. ‘It has been a difficult year with many seeking a Home,’ Mr. Toad said with a tear in his eye. ‘They have been told that they were not wanted and to go back to where they came from,’ Mr. Toad said sorrowfully. ‘They have been fired for no cause and given no reason,’ Toady noted. ‘They were told they were not the right color as if love has a color,’ Toady said softly. ‘I am green as all of my ancestors were…we are a proud green from a proud lineage,’ Toady said as he pulled out a cigar. ‘We shall smoke Christmas cigars and pop Christmas Poppers and pray for all, including the president who says we are from ‘Shit Hole Countries,’ Toady said with some holiday cheer. ‘We will follow the example of Bob Cratchit and pray for Mr. Scrooge,’ Toady noted.

So we are on the journey. Some of us have been walking for a while. Others are new to the trek. Each year, we renew our commitment to find our way home. We have been a bit lost. The city lights and the joys of influence and money cloud our eyes. If we make more, we will have more. We start out wanting more. The more we say about society’s goals. Give us deeper pockets, the funeral director ordered funeral suits for his clients. The Star shines bright in the Christmas sky.

The shepherds say Follow us. The Wisemen say the same. ‘For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.’

The road is strewn with hard stones to walk on. It requires good shoes and a keen eye. Along the path, we see those who have fallen by the wayside. Does anyone care? Once we stumbled and could not get up without the aid of another. The helplessness of our condition was profound. We consulted with our Guardian Angel and found a way to return to the journey. It is good to be back in the race. Many are the tortoise to the more fleet of foot hare. We seem to be stuck in place when we are moving to the sound of our own drummer. The timpani, the drum, beats consistently in our march to see the Baby.

The Christmas Scene is set. The sheep and oxen laugh at their good fortune. They are the first witnesses to the Desire of the Ages. In came Mary Joseph and the little sweet Baby. Angels stood guard around the barn where Christ lay in the manger. The religious leaders of the day were not there. They had no invitation. The poor of the land, the humble, the meek, witnessed the quiet birth of Jesus.

The man lame in his feet leaned on the healthy young leader. The blind took the leader’s hand and saw through his eyes the destination. Hungry children ate the fish and bread the smiling leader provided. His eyes were like infinity, and his voice sounded like a rushing stream and a flock of doves.

The singing angels assisted the millions on the path to home. They sang We Three Kings as they helped those who had stumbled and fallen and could not get up.

Here we are again. Christmas is in the air and on the airwaves. The trees in the Woods bow before the coming Christ. The clouds have on their festive attire. Mr. Badger is wearing his Christmas Vest and has his Santa Pocket Watch in his vest pocket. Mr. Mole is tidying up as the big day approaches, as he is hosting Christmas Dinner. The Deer are bringing pumpkin pie. Mr. Toad is bringing the firecrackers.

The winds of change are blowing. So many are without food or warm clothes. They sleep in tent encampments close to the Warming Center. The man sits nodding at the Walmart picnic table, a meager plastic bag holding his Christmas possessions. He seeks the holiday spirit from his Camel cigarettes. If it were not so cold, he would sleep a little. A forlorn forboding permeates his eyes. A world weariness for the yearly promise of better things and peace on Earth. Peace to him is a decent meal of soup and bread and a cot to sleep on indoors instead of the tattered tent.

Happy children exit Walmart with Switch IIs and expensive Christmas gifts. They laugh when they think of surprises and mysteries awaiting them on Christmas morning. There will be plum pudding and roast goose. Also figgy pudding and a warm fire in the fireplace. They know not fear or want. Their fat cheeks are rosy aglow with the message that the Baby Jesus came to Earth because he loves all the little children of the world. Red, yellow, black, and white are all precious in his sight. The Christmas Stockings hung by the chimmeny with care are bursting with Christmas Joy.

The poor black man lit another Camel and puffed reflectively. He had grown up in a house full of life and love at Christmas. He danced about the Christmas Tree with delight on Christmas morning. Mama made Christmas Coffee Cake and fudge for Christmas. Daddy recited the Christmas Story and gave the man his sisters and brothers’ pocket knives for a Christmas remembrance. Daddy was a mechanic and worked on the big rigs in Chicago. He rode a Harley Davidson motorcycle and wore a leather motorcycle cap. He laughed easily and often. The old black man’s dad and mother divorced, and the old man went to live with his Dad. Dad had lost his way. Dad spent the day smoking Camel cigarettes and waiting for a ride to town to buy more. The old black man got into a little trouble with the law. Nothing major, but he did a year in the Penitentiary. Everything changed for him when he was released. He had been to Mechanics’ School, but no one wanted to hire him.

‘Let’s invite all of the forgotten and homeless to a Christmas Feast,’ Jane said with glee. ‘A kind word of Christmas Joy is what they need and a demonstration that someone cares about them,’ Jane said. ‘We can do what the government will not,’ Jane exulted. ‘We will bring them to Mr. Badger’s and Mr. Moles’ Christmas Dinner in the Woods,’ Jane sang. ‘We will have a large table where no one is lesser or greater,’ Jane laughed.

‘Welcome to my home, Clyde. I have heard so much about you,’ Mr. Mole said with a broad smile. ‘I have made Christmas Coffee Cake like your Mom used to make, and there is fudge too,’ Mr. Mole said with a Christmas Dance.

A powerful wind blew. Cold air was arriving. The trees were bare. The Old Man braced against the chill. He walked with determination and Christmas resolve. The Woods Animals followed with dancing and song. Some sang Silent Night while others hummed Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

There were only two weeks left until Christmas. There were surprise Christmas gifts to buy. Had he forgotten anyone? Christmas held a special place in the Old Man’s heart. His fondest memories centred on Christmas with Neva J, on their days of plenty and days of poverty. First, as a middle-class family in Chicago living on a street and in a home reminiscent of the television show Leave It To Beaver. In the blink of an eye, it reversed to him and Neva J not having enough money for milk. Yet Neva J always found money for a happy Christmas.

Laughing Santa was always there for the Old Man in his youth. He laughed heartily in the good times and the bad. His face was a mischievous grin. There was a Christmas Movie at the Orpheum Theatre, where the Lions provided Christmas Gift Baskets for each child. The Baskets were resplendent and included a Soaky, which contained bubble bath and came in many comical figures such as the Three Stooges.

More money is needed for necessities. Affordability is a real issue, not a scam. Many good people from both political parties will be unable to pay for health insurance in the New Year. ‘Are there no poorhouses?’ Scrooge asked.

The Spirit of Christmas Present is watching. Who is cold and who is safe and warm? The Spirit of Christmas sees all humanity as God’s Children. Mary and Joseph found no room in the Inn. The barn was the birthplace of Christ. The sheep were there and the oxen. They held their heads high, smiling as the Spirit of Christmas was with them in the form of a little Baby in a manger.

The hustle and bustle of Christmas ebbs and flows. There are parties, shopping, and decorating the Christmas Tree. Brilliant wrapping paper from Paper Source and resplendent ribbon from the old world. A memorable Dirty Santa Christmas gift exchange that will not soon be forgotten. Family, you wish you could be with them much more often than you are. Having two-inch porkchops in a Victorian Christmas-decorated private room at Patti’s Settlement in Kentucky. Yet there are silent pauses along the Christmas path.

A special aura rests over Christmas. The happenings are marvelous and mysterious. The world is seen through red and green glasses. We are reminded that we will be here for only some Christmases. It is a privilege that those before us treasured. The photos of our memories remind us of Christmas past. We have arrived in our future. No longer do we sit at the kids’ table. Now we are the patriarchs and matriarchs of the festivities. The young among us look to us and watch us for our reactions to the holy event.

The Woods were silent as the Old Man walked its paths. The deer dances around him, smiling. Neva J follows singing, ‘Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, won’t you please put a penny in the old man’s hat. If you haven’t got a penny, a haypenny will do if you haven’t got a haypenny. God Bless You.’

We will sit at the Christmas Table with many who have gone beyond the Veil. They will laugh at our jokes and take another slice of Christmas Goose. They know what is in store for us and want to give us the good news.

The Old Man is still reveling from his weekend visit with the Tennessee Brooks. Sometimes you do not realize how much you are enjoying an event until you look back on it. The blessing of a family that loves you and you them is priceless.

The sandstone rocks and cliffs in the Woods were unchanged this morning. Time works its magic slowly for their kind. Not so with we humans, though. We change yearly. The changes are subtle but cumulative. If we do not often gaze at our reflection, we are a bit suprised at the person looking back at us. I admire the Hollywood stars who refuse plastic surgery. They want to look natural with all of the lines of life.

The Old Man’s Guardian Angel noted that someone was following them in the Winter Woods, and it was not Santa Claus. Behind them strode a sure-footed man of 40 with big steps and a surety of stride and purpose.

So, is there an alternate universe? Marcy and I discussed it over the weekend. How do we explain the Mandela Effect? Millions of people believe that things have occurred that did not, such as the Disney character Tinker Bell using her magic wand to spread pixie dust over the Disney Logo. I have seen this happen countless times. Yet it never happened. How could this be? Many remember Nelson Mandela dying in prison. He was released from prison and ruled South Africa for a time. Many believe that they watched the funeral of Billy Graham years before he died. Are we living in our chapter of a many-chaptered book?

Our Christmas memories run deep. I remember Christmases of my youth, and I am transported there. Are those life events still occurring while we grow old?

So we walk by faith and not by sight. What we see is not all there is. You may have noticed the image looking around the corner that disappears when discovered. Or when I visited Oxford University and had the distinct impression that I had been there before. We are working with limited knowledge. Perhaps if we were not so prejudiced and positive about our way being the right way, we could learn from others with a different perspective.

‘Santa said he remembered me,’ Jane said with a laugh. ‘He recalled when I requested a Thumbelina, and he had to look all over the North Pole to find one,’ Jane giggled. ‘I felt like I was five years old as he spoke with me while the pipe in his mouth emanated smoke like a wreath around his head,’ Jane winked. ‘Santa told me that I had not changed and that I would not,’ Jane smiled.

‘Santa told me that this year I would receive a Big Swinger for Christmas as I did when I was in sixth grade,’ Billy B chuckled. Santa said he knew I was looking for one, and although I thought that they were no longer manufactured, he had some in stock at the North Pole. Billy B danced on one foot and then the other. ‘He told me that I am forever young and I would understand what he said soon,’ Billy B said as he sang Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

Christmas came early for the Tennessee and Illinois Brooks. We just returned from a wonderful visit with Marcy Brock, Jaime Jeb and Morgan. We did the Dirty Santa. It was a high point of the festivities. I got a glass with a Brooks inscription. Also, some Moonshine. I relished the familial bond we have forged over the past 10 years. I am the representative of the beginning of our Dad’s lineage, and Brock is the culmination. Brock was born a year after I graduated from high school. The surprise revealing of the Tennessee Brooks in 2012 has been a rich blessing in MJ and my Golden Years. Brock is a talented man. I marvel at his expertise. As Jeb told me a few years ago, his Dad and I look alike.

Jeb and I laughed at the unique two-inch pork chop. Jeb tried my size 15 ring on, and it was amazing how big my hands are compared to the average bear. Jeb is a mild-mannered and sweet person. He is a wonderful nephew. His dry humour is compelling. Jeb is the kind of person that you want to be around at every opportunity.

Morgan is a special person. I strive to be the person who makes others comfortable, but Morgan made me comfortable with her kind comments and sweet demeanour. Morgan told me that I had the appearance of a dignified old man and could make a Dos Equis commercial. Morgan can make beautiful items out of things no one would think of. She is a craftperson with a keen eye and a brilliant ability.

Marcy is like my sister. I call her Sis. She is a wonderful person. Anything Marcy tells me, I am fully convinced. Marcy has a light about her that encourages all she meets. She is practical and ethereal at the same time.

Jaime is an angel in human form. Just her presence causes celebration. She is keenly perceptive, listening and watching for all nuances of those around her. Jaime is an angel among us sent to bless us and reveal what love is.

The Tennessee Brooks and the Illinois Brooks were blessed with a private dining room at Patty’s Restaurant in Grand Rivers, Kentucky. We did not request it, but there it was with an intimacy ordered by Santa Claus. There we were, the Brooks family from two states. We got to know each other better. We bonded. We laughed about the absurd uniqueness of two-inch pork chops. The Old man thought of what lay ahead and what had come before.
Where would we be this time next year?

The Old Man walked in the cold woods. The wind cut like a knife. He indulged in warm thoughts on a blustery December day. The Old Man thought of the excitement of the Eiffel Tower with his friends Margo and Jeff. He laughed when he recalled the Tower attendant asking to see inside MJ’s backpack, only to find a four-pack of toilet tissue. He laughed with a crooked-tooth grin and called his colleagues to see the contents.

Gatlinburg, Tennessee, is a great Christmas Vacation. The beautifully decorated town with the Smoky Mountains as a backdrop is a holiday treat. The Moonshine is to be sipped slowly. I found my leather hat there and have worn it for 30 years. We attended a Christmas Play at Dollywood in Pigeon Forge that was a heartwarming experience. The chestnuts roasting on an open fire were mesmerizing.

We live in a technicolor dream. Often, what our minds believe we can achieve. I grew up an only child. I am going to see my brother and his family now. They are a delight, and my sister-in-law seems like my sister.

‘It is good to be old,’ Guardian Angel said. ‘We learn by experience, I hope,’ GA continued. ‘We do not accumulate life’s knowledge and wisdom to bury it in the grave,’ GA explained. ‘It is of great use beyond the Veil,’ GA promised. ‘Your friends add to who you are,’ GA said. ‘They have a place in the story,’ GA smiled. ‘Experiences fit together like a 1,000-piece puzzle. You can not see the full image until it is completed, Guardian Angel laughed.

‘Who is following us?’ Old Man asked? ‘When I look over my shoulder, they stop and laugh and wave,’ Old Man observed. ‘They appear to know me, and they look familiar like Deja vu,’ Old Man noted. ‘I feel I know them and we have visited on many occassions, yet their following us seems etheral and a bit frightening,’ Old Man pondered. ‘In some of my dreams, I wonder if the dream is my reality more than my waking state,’ Old Man mused.

‘That is your fan club, dear friend,’ Guardian Angel said with a laugh. ‘They know you well,’ GA winked. ‘Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.),’ Walt Whitman said. ‘You sat at the Ale House with C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, and you walked the halls and rooms of Oxford,’ GA smiled. ‘You are a manifestation of destiny and the result of a colorful past,’ GA chuckled. ‘It is Yuletide and time to rejoice,’ GA danced on one foot and then the other. ‘The Dream continues,’ Guardian Angel said as he disappeared…