Random ramblings of a mind damaged by years of disuse and abuse. Also a place to go to be bored to tears.
The Random Comic Strip
Words to live by...
"How beautiful it is to do nothing, and to rest afterward."
(The right to looseness has been officially given)
"Everyone carries a part of society on his shoulders," wrote Ludwig von Mises, "no one is relieved of his share of responsibility by others. And no one can find a safe way for himself if society is sweeping towards destruction. Therefore everyone, in his own interest, must thrust himself vigorously into the intellectual battle."
Apparently, the crossword puzzle that disappeared from the blog, came back.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
No Politics Today
This is probably the wrong day to rant about politics... or anything else for that matter. Instead, it is a day of reflection, for looking inward, and for looking outward for signs of hope.
When I was a child, I never got to believe in Santa Claus. At least, I don't recall believing. That was because I had two older siblings. To be fair, it was likely my brother who denied me that belief. In any case, by my 4th Christmas, I no longer believed in a magical guy who slid down chimneys and left gifts for good little boys and girls. I was probably not hard to convince since we didn't even have a chimney and our roof sloped so much, Santa would have needed to set an anchor to hold the sleigh from slipping off. Besides, by then I was sleeping in a bedroom on the second floor with the roof mere inches from my face. I'd have heard those reindeer.
It wasn't that I didn't want to believe, it was just that I had not been given much of a choice.
My family treated Christmas as more secular than many, I suspect. That could be because my father owned the only bicycle shop in town and Christmas was an important event each year. My parents would leave my sister in charge and go off on Christmas Eve to deliver bicycles all over town.
Each year, the Pope prays for peace in troubled lands, good will to fill the hearts of men (and women, one supposes), and love for our brothers (and sisters). I was often troubled by that concept of "brotherly love." To me, that meant bullying, teasing, the occasional bloody nose, ostracization or humiliation when around his friends, some really nasty "practical jokes", and so on. I couldn't understand why anyone would wish for that. I tried to avoid being too judgmental and always smiled and nodded when it was mentioned in conversations.
I spent Christmas Eve 1969 at a friends place in Long Beach, California. Having eaten too much, drank too much, and smoked too much, I basically passed out on their sofa. Being nice people, they left me there and went to bed. I awoke somewhere around 3 or 4 AM. The radio was on and the news was being reported. It wasn't good. Shootings, robberies, a house fire, a couple of notable traffic accidents. Didn't seem to me like there was a lot of peace in Los Angeles, much less the rest of the world. I remember thinking that it seemed wrong that there couldn't be just one day, or one night, that passed without violence, mistreatment, and woe. I was quite sad. I slipped out and drove home to my little apartment just before dawn.
I did not appreciate Christmas much, I suppose. That changed after my son was born. I let him feel the magic. I let him believe until he got smart enough to figure it out on his own. I think he was seven. He changed my view of Christmas.