As of today, we in the northern temperate zone are making the annual turning of the corner, escaping from increasingly long nights. In a couple of days, I'll be escaping from Houston for a little more than a week, taking buses and trains and a rental car to points northeast: Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island. Kayleen will not be joining me this time, for reasons of physical and financial difficulties, which saddens me; I'd been looking forward to showing her some of those parts, including some of my childhood homes in Jersey.
Kayleen also received word this morning that the son of one of her foster sisters took his own life last night*. It's not the first acquaintance of hers or mine who have ended their suffering in this way in December. Both of us can sympathize with their pain, knowing first-hand how hard it can be to keep it together through this mass psychosis we call the Holidays.
* UPDATE: The young man took his own life about a week ago, but his body was just discovered last night. Peace and courage to his family and friends.
Even those chipper fellows the Everly Brothers knew that "Christmas Eve Can Kill You."
* UPDATE: The young man took his own life about a week ago, but his body was just discovered last night. Peace and courage to his family and friends.
Even those chipper fellows the Everly Brothers knew that "Christmas Eve Can Kill You."
Here's a video that I just discovered and enjoyed the other day, courtesy of a friend's Facebook link. To my amazement, raving evangelical atheist Tim Minchin sings a heartfelt tribute to Christmas in the Australian summer and the simple joys of hanging out with his family.
The nightmare that is 2016 is mere days from its end, giving way to a potentially much scarier 2017. Even without help from our new corporate overlords in the White House, it will be scary, because we will continue to lose Baby-Boomer touchstones at about the same rate.
Still, good riddance, 2016, and take a few authoritarian-imperialist-capitalist assholes with you. Even an aristocrat like Lord Tennyson could write a line like "Ring out false pride in place and blood" and mean it. Sadly, the beautiful rendition of "Ring Out, Wild Bells" below omits that whole stanza (as did Charles Gounod in his choral setting).
Still, good riddance, 2016, and take a few authoritarian-imperialist-capitalist assholes with you. Even an aristocrat like Lord Tennyson could write a line like "Ring out false pride in place and blood" and mean it. Sadly, the beautiful rendition of "Ring Out, Wild Bells" below omits that whole stanza (as did Charles Gounod in his choral setting).
While we're appreciating Tennyson's noble sentiments, let's recognize all those societal "foul diseases" for what they are: mental diarrhea. Our collective consciousness needs a visit from the P. E. Squad.
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