Whirled Musings

Across the Universe with Cosmic Connie, aka Connie L. Schmidt...or maybe just through the dung-filled streets and murky swamps of pop culture -- more specifically, the New-Age/New-Wage crowd, pop spirituality & religion, pop psychology, self(ish)-help, business babble, media silliness, & related (or occasionally unrelated) matters of consequence. Hope you're wearing boots. (By the way, the "Cosmic" bit in my moniker is IRONIC.)

Monday, December 24, 2018

Ruining Christmas redux

Tonight -- Christmas Eve 2018, or rather what's left of it -- my husband Ron Kaye and I celebrate 25 years of living together. (Not of being married -- that came much later -- but of living together.) Last year when we were almost but not quite at the quarter-century mark, I wrote a post that both celebrated that almost-anniversary and pondered the ways in which Christmas can be tarnished if not ruined by various factors, some born of our own unrealistic expectations, and some, such as profound personal losses, over which we have no control. I titled my screed "Ruining Christmas" as a nod to my mom's accusation, which became somewhat of a family joke, that the disruption in my personal life on that Christmas Eve in 1993 was ruining the holiday for the entire family. (Spoiler: It wasn't.) But rather than taking the time to pound out a recap, I'll just provide you with the link.

Notwithstanding my Christmas Eve 2017 meditation on losses and holiday sadness, Ron and I had a joyful Christmas and post-Christmas with friends and family, though there was an empty chair at the Christmas dinner table where our recently-departed friend Alma would have sat. (We set a place for her anyway.) But in a way our delightful holiday was the calm before the storm. I cannot say that 2018 has been nearly as joyous as Christmas was; to the contrary, we've been through hell and (mostly) back since early in the year, but here we are, still together, and still planning to celebrate the next couple of days with some of the people we love most in the world.

Our small gathering will provide a brief reprieve from the toxic red swirl of politix and worries about the state of the world. While the current occupant of the White House spends Christmas amongst his wife's garish blood-colored trees, throwing tantrums over his silly wall and bitching about the "war on Christmas," we'll be enjoying a scaled-down but nonetheless loving celebration of friendship and food. We're not going to let any mad king ruin our holiday, though I can't help but be concerned about the folks for whom he really has ruined the holiday by fueling the partial government shutdown. Shame on his orange ass.

And by the way, you may already know this, but just in case you don't...
there really was a war on Christmas once upon a time, but it was perpetrated by Christians.

There's no war on Christmas in this household of liberals, unless you count our
cats' determination to wreck the halls. But there's no malice in their destruction; in fact, knocking down decorations, tearing down carefully arranged displays, and eating and then projectile-vomiting Christmas trimmings is the way they celebrate the occasion.

My own love for the holiday endures, and more than that, my love for the man who helped me "ruin Christmas" 25 years ago shines on even more brightly than the solar light that our late friend Alma gave to us.

My wish for you this year is the same as it was last year. May you not be overwhelmed with what you have lost but instead be grateful for what you still have. I wish you peace and comfort and good times now and throughout the coming year, no matter which holidays you do or don't celebrate. And I'll be back in the New Year, or maybe even before, with more Whirledly topics.

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