Sit down cross-legged on the floor of the living room and pull a TV tray over in front of you. In the days before video tapes, DVDs, and cable television made it possible to watch Christmas specials year round or multiple times, you had exactly one shot a year at catching Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer, The Year Without A Santa Claus, or A Charlie Brown Christmas. If you missed it, you were outta luck until the next December. If you were like me, then, you were on your butt in front of the television, a Swanson’s pot pie steaming in front of you, with five minutes to spare.
With that in mind, let’s kick off the Christmas season with an appropriate bit of fanfare. (And my fellow Gen Xers, prepare for flashbacks in 3…2…):
The Christmas Season is officially here!
I’m back, after a good week away in which I had a terrific conversation with a source (during which I was also given several more contacts), a good day at the Library of Congress (I’ll sing the praises of their online newspaper archives later), and a terrific Thanksgiving weekend. And all this in spite of the fact that both Maryland and New Mexico were smoked in their respective college basketball tournaments over the weekend.
Our two Christmas trees also went up over the weekend, the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, wreaths were hung on every exterior window, and we filled our flower boxes with real pine greens and lanterns, which we light each evening. Absolutely beautiful. Now we just need the snow to make it a Currier & Ives postcard.
Meanwhile, returning to the day job after a week away means a bit more craziness — especially as we’re in the homestretch of wrapping up a long year in which my particular Councilmember served as Council President, and we’re working to ensure a smooth transition. So bear with me if I’m a bit erratic. Or at least moreso than usual.
But Christmas is one of my favorite things to talk about, so when things settle down, I owe you some posts. It was actually my love of Christmas that spurred my interest in Washington Irving to begin with — and I’ll tell you that story, too. I’ll also grumble a bit about the new John Lennon biography.