Bah, humbug!
There is no better way to begin my annual letter than to
exclaim, as Ebenezer Scrooge might have expressed his dissatisfaction with this
holiday. Christmas is the true American celebration of commercial capitalism
and, thus more American than the Fourth of July. Very few of us seem to enjoy
the pressure, or the expense, of this holiday – but we can’t let it go. Racing
around with lists in hand, attempting to spend equal amounts relative to
certain stratum classifications for the beneficiaries. Auntie said some really
nice things about us back in May, while a daughter-in-law may have fallen short
of goals that we secretly set for her.
Have you been naughty or nice? We all begin the year with
resolutions that put us on track for all kinds of improvements and personal
betterment. How many of us can remember our resolutions for this year? Oh, god!
I think that I may have resolved to lose a few pounds, smile more, and work
harder and here we are. Most of my clothes still fit – some may have tightened
and stretched though – and I’m feeling cranky and lazy.
There is an old joke that has been going around the internet
for years (and most certainly has existed for decades earlier). It poses the
question: what if there had been three wise women rather than three wise men?
The assumption is that the term “wise man” is a contradiction. The women would
have asked directions, and thus arrived on time. They would have helped to
deliver the baby, cleaned the stable, made casseroles, and brought with them
practical gifts.
This scenario doesn’t work for most, however. Life would be
so simple if only there were just the one child to purchase gifts for. When my
brother, the carpenter, became a father, my sister could not see the value of
bringing carpenter tools for the son who might follow in his dad’s footprints.
Oh no, she felt that the lad should do better. Instead of a hammer, she would
bring the boy water colors. Instead of a ruler, she would bring the prodigy a
calculator. Instead of encouraging her nephew to develop the skills of his
father, she would plant the seeds for dreams.
Today, the boy has grown to be a man. His father, the
carpenter, has retired with a modest pension. He led a simple life and, for the
most part, has kept his sense of humor. The aunt, or the carpenter’s sister,
seems to complain a lot – things are just never quite right for her. The son
cannot drive a nail straight to save his life. Because of his father’s example
at the work ethic, he worked hard and finished college earning a degree in
philosophy – scored high in his class too. He is now unemployed with just the
occasional job substitute teaching at the local grammar school.
Oh, yes – I was talking about Christmas shopping wasn’t I?
The experience of a large family provides ample opportunity to observe
seemingly infinite variations on the themes of life. Our level of education has
given us all better lives. Carpentry is a nice stable skill and philosophers
dream with a logical discipline that can only lead to a better understanding.
Reality, however, does not change – neither the philosopher nor the carpenter
has any idea what to get the other for Christmas.
Bah, humbug!
