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