Merry Christmas 2025!

Christmas lights through the front door. Christmas Day, 2025.

“Oh my! I don’t usually have more than one, but it is the holidays….” [cue hysterical laughter]

Merry Christmas, y’all! I wish you all the meaning of the day. For the Catholics, and the similarly aligned, we look forward to the 12 Days of Christmas beginning today. To our fellow Christians, we celebrate fraternally, the incarnation of God, the Creator of the Universe. To the rest of America and those who choose to throw in with us, this represents a time vaguely associated with the Solstice that causes the Northern Hemisphere to contemplate the brightening of days, the eventual advent of spring, and a time where we think about love of our fellow humans, the idea we may achieve peace on Earth, and that individuals will find the emotional connection we all seek. (I’m sorry, Southern Hemisphere. I haven’t got anything for you on this one. The days will grow shorter. The warmth will fade away. And in your coldest times you will not have the bright spot of Christmas to look forward to. I’m feeling your pain.)

Our personal Christmas has been especially meaningful to me. My best friend in the choir, a bass like me, died 18 days ago. An ordained priest who left the clergy to pursue a ‘worldly life’, he never stopped being what priests aspire to be (if they are true priests): the lowly shepherds who gather the sheep who stray and return them to the fold. I suppose he never will be venerated, beatified, or sanctified, but he established a spiritual North Star for me, and his death so close to Christmas has rocked me emotionally and spiritually. That I say this day’s mass proved especially moving to me makes me think that the last time I felt this way occurred in 2019 exactly two months after my mother died (and I retired). It’s funny how we imbue meaning into the same annual ritual liturgy.

I approach my faith through music and musical ministry. Thus, the Midnight Mass this year meant I dwelt in the choir loft yet again despite thinking, “How much longer can I stay up until 2 or 3 a.m.?” I reference my comment to my recently departed friend from the bass section who last year at 84 found it a requirement to be in the loft on Christmas Eve, preparing for the first hour of the birth of Jesus. He could not stand for more than 10-15 minutes. He exerted himself to climb the steps to the top riser where the basses reside. Contrary to offering complaint, he climbed with a smile on his face. I kept thinking about him, about my slight musical retreat from participating in what my vocal gift allows me to do, and about how this night above most others enriches the spiritual experience for those who attend but Christmas and Easter.

We presented 45 minutes of music from a brass quintet (plus tympani), two organists using our CB Fisk Opus 147 pipe organ, and the two dozen voices of our choir. I invite you to follow that link to the page describing the organ. It inferentially mentions our cathedral space which remains one of the largest Roman Catholic cathedrals in America, providing space for about 2,000 worshippers.

Holy Name of Jesus Cathedral, Raleigh, NC, preparing for Midnight Mass 2025. Two transepts exist to both sides of the altar area. The choir loft, foreground, shows the camera which will transmit a YouTube livestream, the seats and stands for the brass quintet, and is taken from the top riser where the basses sit. Christmas Day 2025.

Not unusually at Christmas, parishioners packed our cathedral.

Here’s a not-unusual detail for folks like me:

Spend Christmas Eve morning planning the logistics for the next 48 hours.
Align meal times with reality
Take a nap for 1-2 hours sometime during the 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. timeframe
Shower a second time…perform necessary personal grooming functions
Continue day to its normal concluding time (for seniors), but have dinner just a bit later
About the time one would prepare for bed, prepare to go to church instead
Get to church at 10:45 p.m.
Participate in pre-mass musical program from 11:15-midnight
Support the mass with musical ministray/leadership
When mass ends at 1:30 a.m., engage in social chat, drive home
Arriving home about 2 a.m. or later, and realizing you are far too jazzed to go to sleep, crack a bottle of “Christmas cheer” and calm in the alcoholic-existentialist manner until approximately 3:30 a.m.
Go to bed
Wake on Christmas Day about 8:30-9:00 a.m. Absolutely beat, and with no more than 6.5 hours’ sleep (usually more like 5.0), stumble through a few hours before saying, “Screw it, I’m having a beer, dear.”

There you have it: a raw, day-after download of what this (and many other) Christmas has meant to me. I wish you and yours the merriest of the day. Here on the east coast of the United States, about eight hours remain on Christmas Day. I hope however many you have (or had), they will be/were meaningful.

Goodbye, Christmas

Tail end of Christmastide, 2023. January 2024.

Western Catholics have lost touch with the historical End of Christmas. Today, February 2nd, is that day, the 40th Day of Christmas (counting Christmas day as “1”). Christmastide, i.e., The Twelve Days of Christmas culminates at Epiphany; the period of time between Epiphany Sunday and the Presentation of the Lord (at the Temple) culminates at Candlemas (in the Western church). Traditionally some cultures leave Christmas decorations up through this day. As I may have stated previously, leaving Christmas decorations up past this day carries very bad luck so let’s not tempt that, okay?

I lean into this gradual easing into Ordinary Time. Though we’ve marked the 2nd and 3rd Sundays of Ordinary Time–we forget that usually this day falls midweek and doesn’t take precedence over a Sunday–we also tarry with the Christmas spirit through this date. I like that Jesus at 12 years of age stands at the threshold of adulthood. Time to put away the pleasantries of our Christmas-childhood and enter the reality of our calling.

Christmas Day 2024

An old ornament on a new tree. Kinda like us in 2024.

My wife and I first wish you all a Merry Christmas. At the very least we hope the seasonal aspects of peace, love, and deeply rooted joy enter your heart and soul. We still dare to hope these wishes also spread from the end of this season through 2025 and beyond. Despite this being my 71st Christmas and the accumulation of a freight train’s worth of cynicism, I’ve found hope and optimism remain surprisingly strong in my heart.

In the photo above, the ornament symbolizes all of that. Its pink and white frosted layers have many imperfections. The bulb has carried most of those imperfections since its creation, but also has lost some of its sparkle as grains have fallen off through the years. It nevertheless remains shiny where first it shone, and it draws the eye amid the more modern ornaments picked up during the years, the modern (and safer) lights, and the not-so-accurately-manufactured tree needles on our artificial tree. My parents gave me this ornament with a few others when I struck out on my own about 45 years ago. It can’t be younger than the 1950’s, the same as me. As it’s lost its sheen to poor handling, indifferent storage, and the jostling of eight moves during our marriage alone, it’s gained character and presence, standing out among the gaudier yet superficial touches of the newer decorations.

Ultimately, like this ornament, all of us arrive at this Now and this Here being who we are. We put on and take off habits every few years, but settle into most for decades. Beneath the cloak(s) of these habits lie the core of our beings. This Christmastide, I wish you what I wish for myself: a closer understanding of that. When we walk confidently with our Selves, we can accept the unique Others who walk with us on this path. Maybe then we’ll have a little more peace in this world. Maybe then we won’t shout in anger at each other. Maybe we can inch a little bit closer to the perfection buried in our hearts.

Postscript: I’ve kept the above thoughts on the vague, bordering-on-vacuous-greeting card level because I don’t want to push an agenda at you. These thoughts underlie all spiritual beliefs. Even those who believe in nothing but organic humanism (just the brain, baby, then you’re gone!) have a spiritual belief–they believe there aren’t any. To these and to all, I say, “Acknowledge the Self. Recognize it in Others. This forms a bedrock more fundamental than the trappings of religions and philosophy. We all could get behind this concept and make a better world in the process.

The most poignant time…

My parents’ neighbor’s resurrected Christmas tree decoration. Christmas 2023. [*Photo by current owner of the house.*]

Christmas waits impatiently on the other side of midnight, less than five hours away on the East Coast of the US. Besides its ultimate meaning, Christmas carries a bagful of gifts called memories: some good, some painful, some both. When my family returned to Spokane after a 22-month period of moves to Seattle, Los Angeles, and back to Spokane, the neighbors across the street organized a block Christmas decorating project. They lived in the house pictured above. All the men–times differed a bit back then–gathered in the double-car garage just out of the photo to the right, all of the women kept them stocked with hot or cold beverages of their choice, and all of us children ran around in the snow and threw snowballs at each other. For several years our block featured wooden trees lit colorfully…almost as in this photo.

One by one fewer trees appeared each year. This person moved. That person got tired of the maintenance involved. (Ours needed a new stake to keep it upright in the nearly frozen ground.) By the mid-70’s the folks in the pictured house–the ones who instigated the tree-building–had moved, all of the neighborhood children were grown, the trees had disappeared entirely, and ours began its 45-year hibernation in the rafters of our garage.

In 2013 my father died, and in 2019 my mother joined him. Through 2018 the new neighbors in the brick house across the street had taken care of my mother as she declined, assisting her with all those little tasks that get more difficult as one nears 90. My brother lived hundreds of miles away, while I lived thousands. We did nothing with the house during the ten months she alternated quarters in the rehab center or the assisted living facility, but after she had passed we went through the stuff and asked neighbors if they wanted anything. Our neighbor wanted the tree. He spent a couple years before he souped it up with the reflectors, but other than that he returned it to its original condition. It seems appropriate it now lives where it came into being. I ran across this photo looking back through December photos. Funny how so much can be packed into one unassuming photograph.

Still here!

It’s been lots of interlocking activities for me this December 2024.

Nine days since last post, and that one (actually two) appeared from thin air, a gift of a slight lull between printing out our Christmas newsletter and preparing all of the cards for them. I’m still old-fashioned in that way. I believe a pretty card with an appropriate printed message and augmented with a personal one maintains ties of friendship and family better than an email (or worse, a social media post). It shows a commitment to spending time for your recipient, to let them know you still think of them (even if it’s only once per year and due to their inclusion on the Christmas card address list).

One last ‘task’ today: decorate the tree. We had planned to do so Monday and Tuesday, but we were waiting for a new tree-topper which only arrived yesterday evening. We’ll spend a leisurely afternoon doing this, and we’ll end with some delightful liquid Christmas cheer from one of the many special beers I purchased yesterday. From here on it’s preparing to sing for the Midnight Mass in the late evening of Christmas Eve, the drowsy-but-satisfied feeling of Christmas Day, the indulgent-but-hopefully-easy Christmas dinner, and the beginning of Christmastide, otherwise known as the Twelve Days of Christmas. While I may again post daily during this period, I suggest you revisit last year’s which starts here and marches through the twelve days with absolutely no seriousness except for the unintended kind. See ya soon!

Cats, humans, and existentialism

Petunia, in the winter woods. Circa 1984.

Petunia became known as the Acid Cat, christened as such by my friend Jeff after he watched this little tiny ball of fluff race up and down our hallway bouncing off of the walls, Ricochet Rabbit-style. I am not exaggerating. She would jump up and bounce off of the wall about a foot above the floor, like a parkour athlete.

This post represents bait-and-switch, however. Petunia only stands in for Henri. My wife and I have just finished watching a couple of YouTube clips of Henri the Existential Cat, a series we dearly loved a decade ago. If you have never heard of this, ~~I direct you to this link in which Henri more or less gets introduced~~, and this link which shows Henri encountering a new resident of the house. But I would encourage you to watch them all. It will take an hour or two out of your day. You will likely thank me, particularly in these times of trial when existing might be the most we can hope for. Henri rather perfectly sums up my existential dilemma during this time of Advent with mindless Christmas celebrations of mercantilism all around me.

[Unfortunately, some of the episodes have been taken down. It has been 11 years after all. Try this one instead. It’s newer, but gives you a very good introduction to his attitude and his feelings about his roommates.]

Merry Advent, y’all. I’ve just about finished my Christmas newsletter, supercharged by my new approach to it. More later.

Flaking out

Tatted (and tarted) snowflake in a window. November 2024.

I discovered 30 minutes in my day! Our holiday newsletter has reached 50% completion. For the first time in several years, I am “on schedule”—I dare not say “ahead” both due to the Law of Jinxing and because I see little time to work on it during the next two days. My Sunday deadline approaches, just as Tuesdays did decades ago when I worked on weeklies. Let me tell you, there’s nothing like starting a Tuesday knowing you don’t have enough copy to fill the empty pages! It really gets the creative juices flowing! I used the same approach as a teacher, walking in some days only clutching a topic in my mind. Lesson plans? Hah!
We kicked Covid out for good this week, but like with any unwanted guest there’s a bit of cleaning up to do. Last night’s choir rehearsal—my first in four weeks, my second in two months—did a number on my throat, partly because I had to violate the “sing from your diaphragm” rule on several pieces. My muscles ache from weeks spent primarily sitting in this office chair. The cough hasn’t completely disappeared either, small but annoying.
And lastly, one of the readers of this site and the one who partly inspired a trip to Michigan in 2023, may be amused by the photo below. I’m not a cider drinker, but I think this is being newly distributed here in NC:

From the exurbs of Detroit! Spotted in a Raleigh, NC, grocery store. November 2024.

Blogus interruptus

I’ve reached the Thanksgiving through who-knows-when-it-all-will-get-done time of the year. My current project, the annual Christmas newsletter, occupies virtually all of my writing bandwidth because it’s a true news letter. This old journalist packages it as a four-page newspaper complete with individual stories, headlines, a masthead, photos, captions, all of it written in the third person. It takes 40 to 80 hours depending how much I agonize over it. (I’m lying: it takes at least 80 hours.)

Meanwhile, one of our cats decided to get his paws on some Vonnegut, but apparently became disgusted it wasn’t Cat’s Cradle.

The original shelf for this book is the next one up from the bookstand in the photo. I didn’t even know they could *read*. December 2024.

Epiphany 2024

Boy, do I miss the Musical Heritage Society.

A very happy Epiphany to y’all. I’ll refer you to many other sources online which will explain all the nuances of the day–suffice to say it generally is associated with the Three Wise Men/Three Kings who visited the Christ Child a bit after his birth. Think gold, frankincense, and myrrh. For me it means I listen to Amahl and the Night Visitors, a one-act opera by Gian Carlo Menotti. In it, Amahl is a young boy, lame, who no longer watches sheep because his mother and he are so poor that she has sold the sheep to buy food. There is no father. They are visited by the three wise men who are on their way to Bethlehem. Amahl’s mother is unable to withstand temptation with all that gold, and she takes a piece whereupon she is caught. All is quickly forgiven, Amahl experiences a miracle healing, and he receives his mother’s permission to accompany the three kings on the rest of their journey so that he can pay homage to Jesus (and presumably give thanks for being healed).

This opera amazes me, not because of its performance (which I love) but because in 1951 NBC commissioned it, by the “director of NBC’s new opera programming” no less! Imagine that. Today reality TV masquerades as intentional, thoughtful programming; 70 years ago, NBC not only telecast an opera but commissioned it. I have listened to this on or around Epiphany every year for more than 30 years after I purchased it from the Musical Heritage Society in the late 80’s. My version is the 1986 London production which occurred under Menotti’s supervision, and which I digitized during the Great Musical Digitization Project I performed on my music from 2006-2014. (Eight years? In my defense there was a lot of music, and I kept buying more. In fact, I have a few hundred recordings which never made it, mostly jazz and classical.) Imagine my distress when I couldn’t locate this file on my computer today. Something must have happened–files do corrupt for various reasons–and I deleted it? I had to ‘make do’ with the version I found on Tidal which featured the original cast of the NBC telecast shown on Christmas Eve in 1951. I couldn’t determine if it was the actual broadcast or just “featured” those performers. If you go looking for it, the director of this recording was Thomas Schippers. It was very good, but not as good as the one I purchased in 1987 or 1988 from MHS. The latter has clearer vocals which make the words easier to understand. In my opinion, it also features a bit more drama in the performances.

This is an opera for children because it tries to recapture my own childhood. You see, when I was a child I lived in Italy, and in Italy we have no Santa Claus. I suppose that Santa Claus is much too busy with American children to be able to handle Italian children as well. Our gifts were brought to us by the Three Kings, instead.

I actually never met the Three Kings—it didn’t matter how hard my little brother and I tried to keep awake at night to catch a glimpse of the Three Royal Visitors, we would always fall asleep just before they arrived. But I do remember hearing them. I remember the weird cadence of their song in the dark distance; I remember the brittle sound of the camel’s hooves crushing the frozen snow; and I remember the mysterious tinkling of their silver bridles.
Gian-Carlo Menotti, from the liner notes to the original cast recording (Wikipedia)

I miss MHS. It would usually take obscure or under-appreciated (but very decent) recordings, add its own liner notes, and press them. In addition to Amahl and the Night Visitors I purchased many wonderful albums of Christmas music alone: A Tapestry of Carols by Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band, listed first because it is my absolute favorite Christmas album; Christmas Carols by the Scottish National Orchestra, rated by several critics as one of the best Christmas albums ever; Christmas Now Is Drawing Nigh by Sneaks Noyse, an attempt to recreate what the carols sounded like centuries ago; Carols from New College by the Choir of New College, Oxford; Merry Christmas by the Vienna Boys Choir; and A Festival of Christmas which appears to be a combination of two commercial albums, one by the Huddersfield Choral Society and one by The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra and Choir.

And so we bid goodbye to Christmastide and Epiphany. In a moment, I shall pray for all those who enter our house and chalk that blessing on the lintel of our front door. I’m not worried about getting the decorations down before sundown: they will start to come down tomorrow. And we will segue into Ordinary Time, an odd naming for the time which is neither Lent/Easter- or Advent/Christmas-oriented. Bless you all who come through the virtual doorway to this blog.

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas…

Ah, here we are–Twelfth Night! The crazy Americans, as represented by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), have screwed up the whole 12 days of Christmas thing because Twelfth Night also is called Epiphany Eve. Tomorrow is Epiphany…except in the United States because hey, it’s more convenient to celebrate it on a Sunday and there’s a Sunday the day after so…. They do this every year. Last year Epiphany was on January 8th. In 2022 it was on January 2nd, an exceedingly horrible choice because we were just 8 or 9 days into Christmastide when it occurred. It seems to me–though no one consults me in these matters–that if one wants to insist on celebrating Advent (not Christmas) in the leadup to December 25th, then one ought to celebrate Epiphany on its appropriate day, January 6th, regardless of the day of the week. It’s important because of the Twelve Days of Christmas, i.e., Christmastide. It shortchanges Christmas to stick with the full leadup to it (Advent) only to cut more than half a week off of it for convenience’s sake. It’s not like the church doesn’t celebrate certain dates no matter where they fall: Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary; Immaculate Conception of the BVM; Ash Wednesday. Our parish just celebrated our feast day, The Most Holy Name of Jesus, on Wednesday–where it belongs.

According to the USCCB, tomorrow is a “Christmas Weekday”. Not in Twelvetide, unless you’re Orthodox. Maybe they’re just giving back one of the days stolen in previous years?

Twelfth Night has various traditions including eating king cake, chalking the door (with a set of religious symbols intended to bless all who enter during the year–see photo below), singing carols, and of course, in some countries, going to church. It’s been considered unlucky to leave Christmas decorations up past Twelfth Night, but I tend to favor Epiphany for this. I base this on the idea that Epiphany celebrates when the three kings, Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, visited the Christ Child who still resided in a manger in Bethlehem (according to our tradition). Still, if I adhere to the superstition, not removing the decorations by sundown tomorrow (or tonight if we’re going to strictly observe Jan 6th as Epiphany) means we have to leave them up until Candlemas which occurs on Feb 2nd. That would be overmuch, don’t you think?

We chalked the doors at the start of 2020. In our local tradition, the initials for three kings was placed in the middle of the year. As you can see, we’ve not been real good at keeping up the tradition. January 2020.

If you’ve followed all of these entries, you have my sympathy. After Epiphany I will return to more poetry, essays, and photography.