We gathered things we’d received from parents, other relatives and girl
friends (maybe), not by plan but spontaneously. Timing mattered and had anyone thought beyond
the day it all might have happened differently; no one did and the result
exceeded the potential result from good planning. It kinda just happened.
I find the commercial promotion related to the end of each calendar
year to be sad, painful, disheartening and myriad other negative adjectives.
Certainly, there are hopeful and uplifting stories and incidents that reflect
an awareness of the alleged meaning of the time of year. Too much, though,
focuses on extremes of indulgence: Black Friday’s hysteria; that there is such
a thing as Black Friday; Cyber Monday; having to have this or that or some other
matchless toy; and the too common familial conflagrations around a tree, bush
or candle array.
For me, the events mentioned above were a part of one of the
more meaningful holiday gatherings I experienced. Cookies and a cake or
three, all parts of “care packages,” along with not very tasty, purloined oranges
arranged atop a 4 by 8 piece of plywood (mahogany, at that), some cobbled
together decorations and a synthetic, odd representation of a pine tree acquired
by someone “off the economy” made the day’s brief gathering a real event of
caring and sharing. Not surprisingly the warmth dissipated by day’s end, too much alcohol and
returning to “work,” but for the hour or so before the Oreos softened from the high
humidity, the cakes were consumed and the oranges ignored, it was a perfect
moment.
French Indochina, known then as Vietnam; December, 1966.
Welcome home those of you who made it and are still hanging on.
