We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home!
I hate Christmas. It is one long attempt to pretend to peace, love, joy and freedom that I never feel. I put on a good show, give good presents, act lovingly to the kids. But am miserable beneath the facade. Obviously, it matters more how we behave than how we feel. But the season fills me with dread. Passing for merry makes me soul-weary.
At Christmas I realize anew how desperately I need God, a God who might transform my suffering and weakness into something better, a God who came to be with us as we are but loves us too much to let us stay that way. Not a God who has much to do with our pagan rituals of December.