12/22/12
To my very, very dearest friends, and ever-kind, and loyal readers:
I cannot even in half-measure speak of my heart-gladdened gratitude to you for having chosen me to be your friend; I often think, what nascent qualities I might possess that would-somehow-find favor in your kind eyes ?
It cannot be my
growing list of illnesses that has, to my regret, hobbled, and made faint my
former talent; it surely cannot be appearance, for you have witnessed that
current caricature of Self as posted on my Profile page, particularly when
compared to that photograph of me at age twenty-five, which so accurately
delineates-so painfully-that ‘relentlessness of time', and pain, and yet, that
younger Self was not as some deceiving card
trick, but, rather,
that is does give evidence of three decades' past...hardly an historical second
on the clock, which should, somehow, be most important as rare is the promise
of another like passage of time into an unknown ( and, not wanting to be known
! ) Future.
How often have I come
to you, lost, in raw pain, in ‘fibro-flare; in mind-fog so intense as to make
memory-itself-uncertain, and oft times a lie. How many times have you with your
knowing, gracious hearts welcomed me, when-in truth-I had no other place to go,
nor, other place that I would chose to go.
And yet, I know your
pains-while, perhaps different from mine, would so willingly set-aside your own
distress, to comfort me in mine.
I can but only thank you, thank you, thank you, and still that it can't convey to you my most fond regard, except to say that now, I can only try to comfort you, by hiding
I can but only thank you, thank you, thank you, and still that it can't convey to you my most fond regard, except to say that now, I can only try to comfort you, by hiding
you, and thus keeping
you safely hid, within the confines of my heart.
‘' To You, My Dearest Friends, I Wish The ‘Spirit Of The
Holidays' All Year Long! "
by
'Zahc'
My friends, have you but noticed something most unusual, especially these past two weeks ?
And, yes, I know the flurry and the non-stop rest, and crowded stores...and, parking lots; of people milling everywhere from here to there, more people evidenced, than you thought might exist in some much-larger metropolis; music, carols braying out from every speaker known to man, and children skipping, happy, mostly, while their parents sigh, grab coffee to sustain, and rush around with protesting checkbooks, as they mentally try to juggle their way through January.
Of grocery stores
packed ‘chock-a-block': with finest imported foods on end-aisle displays,
pushing past the ordinary things, like milk, bread, or cereal ?
Of an holiday-rigged Mall ( which, rightfully, should be spelled, ‘Maul ‘ ) for each packed, and noisy store is as some wild thing, with sharp teeth and claws to pull one in, and, at their very best, represents the whole of Chinese construction, wedded most uncomfortably with American retail greed. For it truly is a shoddy, cornucopia of long unanswered wants at truly sobering prices; and-as well you know-this ‘uber glot' cannot be sent to be repaired, only, to be replaced.
Of just too many lights too bright, and too many, late-evening children who are quite visibly green-snotty-nosed, and cranky, as its past their bedtimes.
And the stores-themselves-a-glint with gold-paper wrapped litter, off the displays, and well-into the aisles; the clerks, exhausted, tired, and almost singularly
unpleasant. And why
does Wal-Mart have perhaps fifty checkouts, and only four open ?
And...also, now, for some time made tradition, the block-long impatient line that stretches ‘conga-like', around any Post Office, where often elders push along boxes, to large and heavy to carry, only to-again, find three clerks-maybe-and four, unattended places at the counter.
However, keeping all of this in mind, there is an unusual undercurrent of what I can only refer to as ‘niceness'; oh sure, there are grumps, and Grinches aplenty, and their strident whining voices are carried aloft in time to the Salvation Army's endless cadre of bell-ringers everywhere. And for all of you who live in Northern climes, and are-perforce-made to jump into the fray, except in two feet of fallen snow.
Still, I have
noticed, a guarded, but growing sense of cautious politeness; holding doors open
for others; the
exchange of weary,
knowing nods, of miseried camaraderie; for, if in a store trying to navigate
with laden cart, and two small children who are as endless monkies climbing
over all, should you be passed by another tired adult in same like predicament,
for just a second, your eyes meet and you full well the other's lack of
patience and distress.
Still, something has
changed; there is-perhaps-a sense of briskness to the air; strangers have
wished me ‘Happy Holidays'; I chose to believe them, as my return was, I truly
hope, as sincere as theirs.
I hope all deference to the Savior's birth would be as true, and I imagine it will culminate sometime around Friday evening.
But, oh, my dearest friends, it IS a start, for there is selfless gift giving even now, and charities that are genuine know that-no matter the economy-that we, as
Americans, are-at
heart-while practical, remain in large, a generous, and thoughtful Nation.
And it is simply this...not the presents, frantic bustle, occasional short tempers but of making this seemingly elusive holiday the rule, rather than the exception. And to have it expand exponentially and spread through-out, to last intact, the remainder of the year. Every year.
For it most hopefully would last, if it but could, as I do believe that still we-as Americans-in gratitude for ALL our many freedoms, are, in general, more giving, and more kind.
And should we must,
in ever taking stock of our hearts, and of our souls, need some reminding, why
not leave the tree up, with all its calming, and beckoning lights ? Why destroy
those Christmas cards, sent to us by those who genuinely love us ? They should
be looked at, from time to time, as evidence of a love that we all crave; Why
should those few, but beautify holiday
photographs be lost,
or consigned to yet another dusty album, for they are the true barometers of
who we are, and who we'd like to be, if we could but have the chance ?
And, it is precisely
this, my dear, sweet, friends, that I would wish for you. That, whatever
undercurrent now exists of joy and wonderment last for you the entire year;
along with that, I-with my whole heart-wish you ever lessened pain, ‘till it be
as a thing forgotten; I wish so much for you security, that you remain as ever
safe, and well; and, never knowing want, have plenty, and enough-perhaps-to
share.
I wish for you
contented, quiet moments, during which thanks are truly given, and a love that
always surrounds you, that lets you know just how very, very special you are.
And at days' end, I
wish for you a natural tiredness, not exhaustion, but that certain kind of
satisfied tiredness that comes from a full days' kind industry, and one that is
a guarantor of gentle, sweet, and restorative repose;
and in this state of
balmy bliss, dream dreams that refresh and delight.
I wish for you a lasting sense of peace, of accomplishment, bravery, and Advocacy for those who have no voice, for, regrettably, small evils can be seen almost everywhere; but here, you can do what your heart guides you to do; to always expose and report abuse; for, in helping end it, you may-in fact-have saved a precious life, or lives. Dear friends, I know what a fearsome thing it is to step-away from momentary anonymity to do that which you know is right.
Start on a small scale: we ALL have seen drivers who-for their own convenience-park blatantly into an ‘Handicapped spot'; sometimes, they openly misuse an handicapped parking flag, they've ‘borrowed from some incapacitated family member'; sometimes, they park there boldly, without one. Even though I have the decal, and could use it in any car I happen to be in, I still do
not use it, why ?
Because as long as I can still walk with cane, there's someone out there who in
confined to a wheelchair. Should you ever witness such a thing, and have a cell
telephone, use it for one, its wrong, and two,
"The American's With Disabilities Act" IS a law.
And so, my very, very
dearest friends, forgive me for having-once again-gone ‘long', I could not
express to you the grateful contents of my heart in any language less.
Please always know I love you dearly,
‘Zahc'/Charles