Someone we know will be celebrating their last Christmas tomorrow.
What kind of line is that to begin the Christmas Eve Morning Chalkboard?
I woke up anxious from an active dream that ended with a handshake from Ernest Borgnine. One second, I’m greeted by an actor from the mid-twentieth century, the next minute I’m telling all of the Chalkheads something morbid.
I don’t mean to sound like a jagoff this morning. I’m Jumbo Claus, I’m supposed to bring jumbo love and happiness to my world.
Maybe I started today’s Chalkboard with that opening sentence because of the quote today and the song that it comes from.
Especially when Judy Garland sings it with that melancholy tone that she brings.
If the fate allows?
When we wake up in the morning, we have a schedule to follow for the day. After thanksgiving we all started planning the details for the holiday season and the end of 2024.
Some of us have already formulated our goals and resolutions for 2025.
We might have everything ready to go the way we plan it…
BUTT, does the fate allow?
The joy that the season brings is a sort of hiccup in life. It interrupts our regular routine and for some of us…
…the regular routine fucking sucks right now.
“From now on, our troubles will be out of sight.”
Just after the last Christmas song plays on WLIT or when the last dreidel is finished spinning.
Troubles come back into the picture.
Today’s Chalkboard isn’t about how awesome giving and receiving presents can be. It isn’t about how the prime rib turned out or what we plan on doing with Aunt Mildred’s dreaded fruitcake. It isn’t about the glory of Midnight Mass or the glow from the first candle on the menorah.
I’m not even going to talk about the glorious gift of the Baby Jesus.
Today, I want us to remember that Christmas is one day and life is the remaining 364.
I want you to enjoy these next few moments, but I don’t want you to forget the task in hand.
Some Chalkheads are going through a shitshow right now and I don’t want them to fall through the cracks.
Every morning, I pray for my uncle in a nursing home with dementia. I pray for my mother-in-law who must accept widowhood again this Christmas. I pray for my cousins Tricia and Chucky that haven’t been speaking with each other for several years. I pray for my friends that have issues with their children. I pray for friends who have lost a loved one or who are about to spend their last Christmas with someone they love.
I even pray for my ex-wife who hates me a shit ton. This painful woman brought me bigger gifts than Santa ever did and she wallows in making life miserable. I still pray for her.
Usually, it is during that part of the prayer that I’m swearing my ass off.
You are going to have a huge calorie intake these next couple hours. So, I’m not going to sugarcoat this somabitch…
…the season is hard on some of us.
Baby Jesus, mistletoe and George Bailey won’t make it go away.
You have no control of how things will turn out. It is what the fate allows.
Let Uncle Gilbert hug you with his cigar smelling sweater. Have a beer in the backyard with your cousin that voted for the person that you didn’t vote for in November. Be cool with the boyfriend that your daughter is bringing over for the first time.
It is true…. Someone is celebrating their last Christmas, their last Hanukkah, their last New Year’s Day.
We might know it is the last one, but worse off..
… we haven’t a fucking clue. If the fates allow.
Just try to be astonished with the glow from the light of the nativity and the shamash candle.
