RUN RUN RUDOLPH

“Spring has sprung, fall has fell; winter’s here and it’s cold as hell.” Christmas was the only time when all of my uncles on my mother’s side, four of them, when our families all got together. Before the party ended, the youngest, Bill, would find an excuse to throw out the “Spring has sprung;” quip. He and the next youngest, Hank, were in a lifelong competition to out-clever the other. Bill was always the more clever and Hank pushed back with insults when his humor fell short; he pulled us boys aside and told risqué if not dirty jokes, then laughed when we didn’t get it. I liked, even remembered the Spring has sprung ditty from year to year. It was easy to understand and I liked the rhyme. It never occurred to me that it went better with “Summer’s here and hot as hell.” Since when was hell cold in winter but that went over my head as well. At some time every holiday season my uncle Bill’s ditty rolls around and I identify again with those men and with the little boy in me. 

In the last decade I’ve been drawn to Solstice as the midwinter holiday of choice. It is after all the oldest, longest observed celebration if you will, in recorded human history. Speaking for myself, Solstice is a merry making time but also a spiritual reflection of the long strand of DNA that stretches from Neolithic pilgrims, all the way to me, even me. They used allegory and metaphor to make sense of mysterious, unexplained phenomenon while I rely on several thousand years of accumulated knowledge and reliable backstory. 

For the most part my little bonfire and moon-gazing (We had a full moon) went unnoticed by others, caught up in Christmas hype. But I’ve tapped into Christmas this year also. I fashioned a green wreath in lieu of a tree, hung face down from the ceiling, decorated with tinsel, ribbons, ornaments and lights. I hosted our family celebration this year, noticeably secular, not that religious tradition is bad but I attended to spiritual business a few nights earlier. I created an I-Tune play list for Christmas, burned it to a CD. The music ranged from Chuck Berry’s “Run Run Rudolph” to Joni Mitchell’s “River”, Elvis’ “Merry Christmas Baby”, and Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”. In the weeks leading up, the upbeat, happy music pulled me into the retail frenzy, at least enough to feel good about the Winter Wonderland metaphor. 

Now it’s the day after. I have way-too much food left over in my refrigerator and I should go burn off some calories at the gym. Raised with the generation that was schooled not to waste anything, I’ll have trouble throwing good food away but I certainly can’t eat it. Then, out of the habit, I’ll struggle making myself start going to the gym again. So for all the good feeling and merriment that went down in December, January looks like all work and no play. I’ll get out of town by February with an understanding that wherever I go I need to come back in time to pay taxes in April.