Sunday, December 27, 2015

And Above All the Bustle, You’ll Hear…

Christmas in the City

“… the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts” – Charles Dickens

Festive friends, partying pals, and caroling compadres, it’s time again for the traditional “… and several butcher’s aprons” yearly Christmas spectacular, a yuletide institution for well over 365 and a quarter days (props to you, Leap Year babies.)  And, much like the arrival of my Christmas cards, Bristol Palin, or Hillary at a debate after a bathroom break, this posting is late.  Johnny Grant, Santa, Andy, Bing and Perry have all packed it in for the season, while nycityman is still just searching for last year’s leftover wrapping paper.

As of late, being a critical chronicler of our culture and of our times, this blog may have been a little heavy on the negativity and gloom and doom. Of course, when one’s television becomes a 24/7 Donald Trump propaganda reality show, with hate-filled political gatherings reminiscent of the 1934 Nuremberg Rally, it is easy to be alarmed, angry and apprehensive; and also easy to argue that those are indeed the proper and rational reactions of any decent creature who has mastered the skill of walking upright and the manipulation of opposable thumbs.  But, even those post-Nuremberg warring factions would take a brief breather on December 25th for a little reminder of the humanity and brotherhood that hopefully exists somewhere within all of us.  And, who would I be to behave less civilized than an active member of the Third Reich? So, for the present, let’s push all political peevishness and partisanship aside and bask in the glow of gluwein, tannenbaums, holly and ivy, and reruns of scantily clad Mitzi Gaynor Christmas specials (for clarification, that would be Mitzi scantily clad, not the specials themselves.)

Readers, to whom I am indescribably grateful, (even my over-used and abused thesaurus tool was of no assistance), as my Christmas present,  I spare you the usual verbosity and instead share a soupcon of seasonal snapshots - a few, an invitation to join me in celebration of the beloved and quaint little Christmas village I call home, New York City; and others, playfully presenting a slightly dark view of holiday symbols.  I also share my thanks and my sincere wishes for a healthy and harmonious holiday and, in return, happily accept any form of seasonal greeting you might wish to impart - be it Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah,  Cordial Kwaanza or even the cursed, devilishly non-committal  and generic, Happy Holidays. I may be stupid, but I’m not that stupid.

Any comments, questions, criticisms, candid confessions, cash contributions?  Contact me at butchersaprons@mail.com.

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