My Sunday Feeling-The Christmas Edition

     It is Christmas Day.  Earlier in the morning (and late last night) I was struck by how utterly silent the world around me seemed to be.  I live a couple of houses away from Van Buren Street which is one of Little Rock’s major arteries.  Or was back in the day.  Anyway, I got in last night around 9 or so.  I poured myself a glass of bourbon and went out to the porch swing where I listened to the wind chimes and looked at the lights on the houses here on my little street.
     You might have guessed.  We did not get any snow or ice this year.  Thank God.  It was probably in the forties when I was on the porch.  Much better.  Nothing that a golf windbreaker and a glass of Knob Creek straight up can’t defend against.  I thought about smoking a cigar an occasional vice in which I indulged up until they discovered that I have a mild case of asthma.  I refrained.  Still, one cigar a year won’t kill me.  Maybe I will have one tonight with my brothers.
     Christmas is different this year.  One reason is because for the first time in 3 years I have not injured myself in some major fashion.  Two years ago, I scratched my hand on my gate Christmas night.  This seemingly innocuous little injury turned into an infected hand which damn near resulted in my getting hospitalized.  After two rounds of penicillin and 3 months of physical therapy, I regained about 90 % of the full use of my right index finger.
     Last year, I slipped on the ice the night before Christmas Eve and wound up with bruised ribs.  Let me tell you.  If bruised ribs hurt like that, I cannot imagine how bad cracked ribs are.  The damn things still hurt when I play golf in cold weather.
     Dr. GG has opined that these incidents represent self-destructive gestures summoned forth by my complete disdain for the holidays.  Maybe so.  Maybe no.  But, so far so good this Christmas.  We are not completely out of the woods yet but I like my chances so far.
     This Christmas, more so than any other in my memory, has been darkened by sickness and death.  My friends and I are at that stage in life where our elderly loved ones are breaking down.  LS’s mother was found passed out on the floor last Wednesday.  Turns out she was in a diabetic coma which they were able to reverse after two days in the ICU.  JY’s father had a shoulder replacement the same day.  I’m not really sure if my brother Dave of the Ozarks will be here for Christmas dinner.  Just before Thanksgiving, his father-in-law was diagnosed with a pernicious form of leukemia.  Mr. Domeny was given a couple of months.  Which should be right about now.  So we shall see.  Mother is still hanging in there although it is no fun being the prisoner of a neuromuscular disease and depression.  She will feel like coming tonight or she will not.  So it goes.
     My cousin once said that this is the part of adult life nobody taught us how to do.  Truer words were never spoken.
     And even though this Christmas has been really different for me, and not just because-knock on wood- I haven’t hurt myself per usual it hasn’t been bad.  Loved ones from both near and far have been calling.  LS called to see if she could come by for some gin if she needed to get away.  Sure thing.  Sounds like she could use a break.  Marge called from Jackson.  Judy called from Wilmette where it is a relatively balmy 38 degrees.  I talked to Hugh’s daughters.  E-mails came in from Greenville, Seattle and Memphis.  A text message just rolled in from Pasadena.  After that, another one appeared from San Antonio.
     Last night I went to Mass with the Straessles.  Afterwards, I went to Phil and Karen’s for dinner.  Their young friends Matt and his wife (whose name I forget.  I think it is Amy.) were there.  We ate, drank, told lies and fooled around with their new Powerbook.  And after that I repaired to the swing.
     Speaking of Marge, she and I found it amusing that the non-denominational “megachurches” in both our towns were closed Christmas Sunday while her Episcopal church and my Methodist Church were open for business as usual.  
     “Look, Marge,” I said.  “They may be a bunch of Bible banging hypocrites who believe that human history started 5 years ago but bidness is bidness with those guys.  If they can’t get the “meat in the seats” they aren’t gonna be able to rake in a sufficient collection to justify heating and lighting their big-assed structures.”
     “ Well,” she said.  “I guess the Episcopalians and the Methodists will fling the door wide tomorrow anyway despite the fact that we may lose money on the deal.  I guess we got our perspectives all out-of-whack.”
     I guess so.  In any event, I got blessed by the Catholics last night. I took communion with the Methodists this morning.  And I put some extra money in the plate at both places.  I don’t want anybody losing money on account of my spiritual needs.
     Even as I write this, my little house is filled with the smells of the pies I baked last night and the racks of ribs that are cooking out on the deck in the big Holland grill.  I remember there was a time, back before he and Ann had four kids, Steve Straessle would practically materialize a la “Star Trek” when he smelled my Christmas ribs.  I still halfway expect see him out there on the deck when I go back out to check on them.  An NBA game is on the tube.  There are presents under the fichus tree that I have festooned with lights.  We will have Christmas at John’s around five.  The little boys will have plenty of presents including a sack of oranges Phil and Karen gave me to pass out to them.  There will be plenty to eat and drink.  I will probably smoke that cigar.  
     Everything will be just fine.
     It has been a hard year.  But, for the most part, my loved ones and I have survived the year intact.  We still have each other.
     Like I said, everything will be just fine.
     Merry Christmas!