Glad Tidings
December 13, 2007

'Tis the season to be frenzied. By now, most of us are up to our eyeballs in shopping, wrapping, packing and sending presents, prepping or ordering lavish meals, making travel plans or getting ready for visitors, all in a mad rush to achieve the perfect photo-op holiday celebration. To say nothing of the strain put on our normal, everyday work and family routines to accomplish all of the above. As the Red Queen tells poor, bewildered Alice in Through The Looking Glass, "It takes all the running you can do to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run twice as fast."

But it wasn't always like this. True, December has always been a time of midwinter feasting, even before the Christian Church got a stranglehold on the calendar year. The harvest was in, the larder was (hopefully) full, and from ancient festivals of Yuletide, and Winter Solstice, to the Roman Saturnalia, people defied the short days and long, cold nights with celebrations of light and warmth, food and camaraderie, bidding the Sun God a fond adieu to speed him toward his triumphant return in the spring.

But in between the revels, merrymaking, and occasional trips to the vomitorium, the dark days of December provided quiet time to be alone with one's thoughts, reflect on the past, and look toward the future. (For men temporarily unhitched from the plough, anyway. Women of course spent even more time in the kitchen.) In the church calendar, this annual time-out roughly coincided with the Twelve Days of Christmas, the period between the birth of the Christ Child and the arrival of the Three Kings, a season of endings, glad tidings, and new beginnings. This interval of looking both backward and forward is still echoed in our conglomerated global village with best of the year compilations and New Year's resolutions.

As the holiday mayhem approaches critical mass, it may be  time to disconnect for a moment and remember what's really important. Allow me to submit my personal list of glad tidings, a dozen things worth celebrating at this (or any) season, one for each of the Twelve Days of Christmas, and more than enough for every candle on the menorah.

Life. Most of us cannot even imagine how precarious life is in so many strife-torn corners of the world. Every new day you wake up breathing is a miracle of possibilities. Cherish it.

Health. Nobody pays any attention to it until it's in jeopardy. If yours is good, hallelujah. If not, take heart in the love and support of your loved ones.

Family. Whether they're the Waltons, the Simpsons, or the Mansons, they nurture you, love you, and provide the launching pad for whatever you choose to become. Of course they drive you crazy; that's their job. Luxuriate in knowing if you didn't care so much about each other, you wouldn't irritate each other so much.

Somebody to Love. Friend, lover, partner or spouse, child, mentor, granny or beloved pet, love is the essential coin of the human condition. Spend it lavishly.

Something to Do. This is not necessarily the same thing as a job, although if you're lucky, the two might overlap. What I mean is whatever activity fires up your circuits: a political cause, a creative outlet, a personal challenge. Enjoy the rush.

Home. A dry bed and a roof would be the epitome of luxury to some. Whether yours is a mansion, a condo, or a crash pad, take comfort and joy from having a room of one's own.

Critters. Our two tortoiseshell cats spent last Christmas at the animal shelter. Now they live with us, providing more interactive entertainment that Dancing With The Stars, as well as wake-up service: at 5 every morning, they creep onto the bed, snuggle up to us, and commence purring (or 25 minutes of intense butt-licking; either way, we're awake). Canine or feline, feathered, reptile or rodent, our creatures complete our family circle. Love them.

Nature. In the immortal words of The Drifters, at night the stars put on a show for free. On these clear, cold night, Orion and the Pleiades are frolicking out our bedroom window when we go to bed, and Venus shines like a giant blue beacon when we wake up. Delight in the eternal (if we're lucky) splendor of the natural world.

Weather. Okay, global warming is no joke, and water rationing is just around the corner; still, it's hard to complain about the unprecedented run of sunny days, clear skies, and minimum fog we've had since about July. Revel in it.

Community. Our county has its problems, but the arts and a surprising level of social tolerance still flourish here. Support them.

Liberty. Despite the best efforts of the Bush Administration, this is still the land of the free. Our rights may be clinging by their toenails, like Wile. E. Coyote about to fall off a cliff, but right his minute we still have the freedom to dress, think, and worship as we choose, and the power to vote for the society we want. Exercise it.

The End of the Bush Administration. The cowboy messiah and the horse he rode in on are heading out to pasture. Rejoice.