Metaphoric humbug?
As you cross the Memorial Bridge from the west these days, Springfield greets you with an impressive, animated holiday light display; a frieze festooned across the atrial roofs of the Sheraton and TowerSquare, scenics across Columbus and down Boland, twinkly glittery things along Main. That's the view for people coming in, and the people shooting by on I-91.

On the east side of downtown, the vista of Springfield that ordinarily greets me, things look a little less festive, a little more workaday and utilitarian. And I'm fine with that. With the early "near blizzards" crusting over, and in my present state of mind, it's easy for me to perceive that we zoomed right through December and warped our way into February.

This is a stereotypically difficult time of year for a lot of people, and I'm in that category. Aside from a burden of grief and loss that will be inexorably linked to this season, I'm acutely attuned to the hypocrisies of ordinarily aloof folk extending that "extra helping hand" to those "in need" during "this special time of year." That's not a myth, by the way. I once volunteered for a food bank collection drive during the summertime, when the stocks collected over the winter are depleted and the seasonal do-gooders are off on the Cape, on Block Island, or in the Hamptons. That collection was a frustrating experience. On the other hand, I know someone on public assistance right now who has more turkeys and cans of cranberry than they, or any of their neighbors, know what to do with.

But beyond that, I'm also saddled with a conscience that needs to preserve, and reciprocate, the good tidings and cheer from others that flow my way. So I buy presents, fill out cards, make appearances at holiday parties, etc. with the same spirit and drive with which I will tackle my tax forms next month. It's December, and this is what we do in December.

Usually, I have at least one or two pangs of lost childhood, a need to hear Vince Guaraldi and remember being huddled in front of the televised Christmas specials with my brothers and sister, etc. But this year, I feel nothing. Utterly nothing. And I suppose I should feel sad or something, but I don't. It's nothing that Clarence needs to earn his wings over, nothing that an infusion of religiosity would fix for me. Maybe it's just where I'm at right now, and in a few short years I'll be wassailing with the best of them. Who knows? 11:10:34 AM    comment []trackback []