Christmas 2024

 Christmas 2024 versus Christmas in the Trenches

This has been a not-so-happy, up-and-down, try-to-survive month. It is the first Christmas since 1989 that I have spent without a dog. Thankfully, my cat Fish has stepped up and been very snuggly. It is an adjustment month. On the one hand, there isn't dog hair collecting everywhere, and I don't have to let the dog out to go potty or clean up any accidents in the house. On the other hand, I don't have to let the dog out to go potty or clean up her hair. As I said, it's an adjustment. And I am not the only one going through this. My cousin lost her dog. Several of my friends have lost their pets this year, and I just found out a dear Uncle of mine has passed away. So much for the season of perpetual joy.

Now let's add into this mix of adjustment, grief, and jolly ho, ho, ho, crap, taking a fall which resulted in smacking my face and a light sprain to my left ankle. I think life wants me to slow down. Or something.

I find myself reading and watching documentaries or movies about World War II and life during that time. I remind myself that women who served during that time as spies or couriers slept on slabs of concrete or on bales of hay. They often had one blanket during freezing winter. They were starving. They biked and walked miles to transmit messages. They didn't complain. They didn't give in. They fought, and they survived. If they can do that, I can deal with a slightly sprained ankle, a broken heart, and a bruised face. You know, they often made coffee from boiled acorns. I thought about trying that. I decided not to. 

Imagine being in London during World War II during the Blitz. Almost 60 days of bombing. Moaning Myrtle going off. Many people spent Christmas Eve in an air raid shelter. There wasn't any paper available to wrap presents. Food was scarce. Christmas trees were non-existent. You were lucky if you could have a branch. Ornaments were made out of cut-up magazines, and gifts were homemade. People tuned in to the radio and listened to the news. One of the most famous reporters in England was Edward R Murrow, who was recognized for his "This ... is London" Broadcast.  

"Murrow doesn’t sound like he’s reading, working instead from ad-lib description and some notes he’d prepared on what he’d seen in the neighborhood earlier in the day. He is generous with metaphors and rich with description: “that faint-red, angry snap of antiaircraft bursts against the steel-blue sky...the sound of guns off in the distance very faintly, like someone kicking a tub...four searchlights reach up and disappear in the light of a three-quarter moon.”  

It was journalism, but it was also literature. Murrow was a master of the word picture. A listener could almost feel he was on the rooftop."

It's Christmas, and 2025 is drawing to a close. No matter what happens, we can and will survive. So, here's wishing everyone a happy Christmas and New Year. In the words of Edward R. Murrow at the close of his broadcast, "Good night, and good luck."









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