Sorry for the delay in posting but I’ve been out of town and when I have been at home it seems as if my running around has taken most of my energy. I’ll make up for the lack of haiku certainly, but there is plenty of regular news and observations as well.
It’s Christmas, or pretty close to it. As most of you know the early Christian church co-opted the already existing pagan Solstice celebration to recognize the birth of Christ. Historians have used the old Roman tax ledgers (remember what the trip to Bethlehem was all about?) to determine that the historical Jesus was actually born in the spring. So if you want to be accurate in your celebration of his birth apply for religious tax-exempt status at that time, say April 15th…
The pretty lights that we see this time of year are a throwback to the pagan practice of lighting big bonfires and torches to draw the sun back to the earth on the shortest day of the year.
St. Nicholas was actually an early Christian living in what is now Turkey around the 4th century B.C. The story follows that his neighbor had fallen on hard times and was being forced to sell his 3 daughters into prostitution to pay the bills. Nicholas heard about this and decided to act. One night he threw a bag full of gold coins through the neighbor’s window, anonymously of course, thus saving the man and the fate of his daughters. There is much more about Nick in reference books, but it is good to know that he was also the bishop of Myra, in SW Turkey. His feast day is December 6th.
The first mentioning of ‘chimneys’ is in the 13th century, of a fresco showing the above act, but the gold going down the flue instead of through the window.
What we know of Santa Claus is a mix of Christian history and Dutch Protestant/Nordic legends about a magician who punishes or rewards children based upon their behavior.
I spent a couple of days this week in The Big City with my father and his wife. He and I went to the Big City Art Museum and saw a fantastic Van Gogh exhibit as well as some other great stuff. We also went to the Big City History Museum and wandered around for a bit. There was lots of good father/son talk and it was great to see him after so long. I was able to hit a very cool meeting on Tuesday night as well. It felt very safe to be there among people just like me. After the meeting I went out for coffee with a few of them to a diner around the corner. Lots of fun.
I think that my father has a fixed idea in his head about what a ‘drunk’ is supposed to be, like an old man in a dirty raincoat. I don’t know, but he told me that he didn’t think of me as a drunk. I reminded him that I am. He’s not in AA, or any kind of program, so he doesn’t really understand. He told me that he has been to a meeting, but a long time ago, before he met his wife. I guess he was dating someone in the program. The result is that he has stayed away. He could do with a little Al-Anon, though, seeing as 2 of his children are in recovery.
I’m sure he’s very curious about what goes on at meetings. I can feel his wish to know more, yet keep his distance from a subject so personal to me. Unfortunately I have the strange feeling that if I invite him into that world the experience will end up in one of his books or stories, which I would not like to see. Not much that I can do about it, I suppose. I’m pretty sure he would think of AA as some kind of cult.
It was nice to get home on Wednesday night. I picked up my sponsee R and we went to a nearby AA/Al-Anon Christmas party/ potluck. Some great speakers and a lot of fine fellowship. It was bitterly cold, however, so it was a relief to crawl into a warm bed with my cat at my feet.
Sweetie Pie sleeps like a log. If I try to move my legs when I’m sleeping it’s like bumping into a wall of cat. She chirps and burbles, annoyed, but doesn’t move a muscle. Strange cat indeed. I caught her eating my gum the other day, again.
Oh well, here are the haiku…
#35.
Deer paw frozen snow
revealing the sudden green life.
A crow sits and waits.
#106.
The days roll slowly,
dreaming like sleeping giants,
snoring through the weeks.
#142.
The sloping hillside,
as seen through the razor wire,
blossoms in the sunshine.
Johnnyboy