Nov. 30, 2002 - 17:14 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

Of Good Will

There are a few times of the year that I am not ranting my head off. It starts after Thanksgiving Day usually. Along about that time memories of holidays past begin to permeate my psyche.(Maybe better said gooshy mushy) but that is the way it is for me.

The years when I was a kid, stuffing myself with available food and then avidly poring over all the ads in the newspapers and thumbing the Sears and Monkey Warts catalogs hoping to get some of the goodies shown.

Then, along about mid November Christmas greetings began to fall through the mail slot in our door. When I would come home from school there would be the mail on the floor, I would pick it up, sort it putting the greeting cards in one pile and the commercial gook in another. I dared not open any mail addressed to Mom and Dad but could, if by no way else - by the postmark - tell who they were coming from. Return addresses were not all that common then.

Dinner was consumed and the table cleared, Dad would open the envelopes, pass them to Mom and she would read the message (most of them would have a short note) out loud and pass the card around. As Mom read the cards aloud the people they were from seemed to come closer to us and the wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year did this kid a world of good causing a bit of serenity for me, knowing that we were in bad times then but maybe there would be some Merry Christmases and Happy New Years ahead.

I also realized how fortunate I was as my Dad and Mom both worked, we had a small house, electricity, water, food, heat and warm clothing. Such a secure feeling for me when I was going to school with kids knowing that many of their families didn't have a father with a job and a mother who had never worked outside the home before.

In between this lad, who I once was tended to feel a bit of self pity. Wishing we had something besides pinto beans and weiners to eat, more than one glass of milk per meal and a stash of cookies on the shelf. But then, knowing those kids who had damn little to eat and wore cast off mostly worn out clothing would cause me to realize that although I was beginning to hate our diet when meal time was there so was I - hungry for what gave. Christmases and birthdays were quite austere. Christmas time there would be a tree in the house, decorated and beautiful. Maybe my sock would have a tangerine in the toe and a bunch of my favorite Brazil nuts and several packs of Juicy Fruit gum. A small wrapped package for me containing a book, what was the series of books ? Bomba the Jungle Boy I think.

Seems to me that Christmas music didn't show up as early as it does now and was much enjoyed. Later when I worked down town, hate for the monotonous, repetitious carols blaring from loudspeakers on the front of stores began to chip away at my enjoyment of Christmas music. Yet even then when a good rendition of Silent Night would begin to sound out, I would pause and listen remembering how it was supposed to be.

The first November I when I first was writing my diary I made an entry on November 30, 2000 Argent Words which pretty well said it like it still is with me. Which I will be doing for a spell, with Silent Night and other good old carols going through my mind as I write.

I do hope that eventually the crazies will be overcome by men Of Good Will . . . . . . . . . .

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