It’s here again. The season between Halloween and Christmas. Which over the years has become a  rather contentious time. Our nation, thanks to social media giving everyone a platform to air their complaints, has become rather quarrelsome.

Each year, immediately after All Hallows Eve, and often before, the stores begin to display Christmas decorations and gift items. The response to this ranges between rage and shopping mania.

The former group seems to resent the rush to Christmas, thinking we will neglect the traditional Thanksgiving holiday.  They feel the world should not begin to experience Christmas until Thanksgiving Day is over.

The latter group begins their usual this-time-of-year buying frenzy. The merchants respond by introducing “Black Friday” earlier and earlier in the season. Black Friday once referred to the day after Thanksgiving when  Christmas sales began. This year, this event will begin around the  middle of the month.

And on social media, we see the eager-for-the-holidays group becoming braver, decorating trees and houses and posting pictures for the world to see. “I’m ready for Christmas and I don’t care who knows it.”

This made me think of a post on this site a few years ago entitled The Taming of the Scrooge.

One morning, after a really bad night, Ebenezer Scrooge said, “I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year through.”

That means that while hunting Easter eggs, popping firecrackers, trick or treating, or even during Thanksgiving dinner, he would experience the joy, love, and wonder that is Christmas.

He would look at the cross at sunrise on Easter morning and think, “Yes, this is what it’s all about.” He would celebrate the birth of our country knowing that God alone gives us real freedom. He would enjoy the happiness and excitement of the children on Halloween, remembering the saints who have gone before us.

I doubt he would be so determined to observe Thanksgiving Day before having anything to do with Christmas that he would stomp into the holiday season with a chip on his shoulder.

He might love it that the merchants in town began early in the season to remind us to prepare for the coming of the Christ Child.

Keeping Christmas all year long. That is really a good idea.

I’m thinking of a song from a few years ago, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.”

Wow. Wouldn’t you love to do that? Don’t you wish someone today would actually encourage us to have a positive attitude about the world we live in?

But, no. We are encouraged  to worry. We’re told we should worry — about the upcoming election, the pandemic, racism in our country, the environment, the future, fires and hurricanes, and on and on and on.  If we are not actively worrying about these things and constantly posting, liking, sharing on social media there is something wrong with us and somehow we’re not doing our part.

Our entertainment venues are closed, so we turn to the media and watch 24-hour news. We stream the current releases, whose storylines seem to follow all of the above.  The late night ‘comedians’ only regurgitate what we have already heard all day.

We need a break. We need to find a way to lighten up a bit.

In 1918, during the flu pandemic, most theaters and vaudeville houses were closed. But folks found humor in the comic strips: Katzenjammer Kids, Mutt and Jeff, and Krazy Kat.  The Great Depression brought us some of the most delightful lighthearted movies that are classics now: It Happened One Night, The Marx Brothers, The Wizard of Oz.  Red Skelton, Abbott and Costello, and Bob Hope saw us through World War II.

The entertainment industry is missing the 2020 boat.

But we can find our own enjoyment. Turn off the news. Reach out and touch — if only virtually or electronically. Call a friend and determine to NOT talk about current events. Talk about past fun times, talk about your kids or grandkids, talk about the weather. Write a note to someone. Imagine their surprise when they get a piece of mail that’s not a bill or junk. Watch a feel-good movie.  Look through your collection of DVDs.  You can stream Sleepless in Seattle, When Harry Met Sally, or You’ve Got Mail. 

Write Matthew 6:33, (Don’t Worry About Tomorrow) on a 3×5 card — or on an 8½x11 sheet of paper if you need to — and put it on your fridge door, bathroom mirror, television set.

God’s got this. Don’t worry. Be happy.

Before I retired I always looked forward to Saturday, a day usually free of obligations or schedules. Although I am very comfortable with schedules,  I do enjoy the occasional un-scheduled time. Now, post retirement, most of my days are scheduled by me, open to tweaking.

Before June 30, 2020, my most frequently asked question was, “When are you going to retire?”  I was, after all, 20 past being eligible for Social Security. Now the FAQ is “What are you doing since you retired?” or “Are you enjoying retirement?” or “How is retirement?”

The answers are: “Lots of things” “Yes” and “Not what I expected.”

During the last years of my working career, when I thought about what retirement would look l like for me, I expected to spend more time with my friends, go to Bingo each Friday, visit folks who are home bound, read and write more, make pictures albums.  I didn’t plan to spend so much time at home.

But, I’m convinced that is temporary and for now it’s okay. I enjoy the reading and writing I’ve accomplished. I’ve shredded documents that have been stored in the top of the closet since 2000. I have taken two trunk loads to Goodwill.  If I have a sleepless night, no problem. No alarm is set to wake me the next morning.

I have NOT become involved in daytime television. I turn on the TV at 4:30 to watch Jeopardy, after that a little of the local news until I don’t want to listen any more. With the help of Netflix, Prime, and CBS All Access, I have discovered many shows I missed the first time around.

Only one day have I worn PJs all day … almost. After several hours of writing, I took a shower and dressed before sitting down with Alex Trebek.

This past Saturday (in real time) was the annual White County Creative Writers Conference, always a highlight in my year. We weren’t sure we’d make it this year but it happened with all the safety precautions in place and I had the fun of being Contest Chair and handing out awards.

Back to the weeks with 6 Saturdays and one Sunday. What project will I find to occupy my time?

It was a great honor to be inducted into the Arkansas Writers Hall of Fame on Saturday, August 1, 2020.

Thank you, again, to the Arkansas Pioneer Branch of the National League of American Pen Women for this awesome honor.

Thanks also to the Pen Women for hosting the Arkansas Writers Conference each year for the past 76 years. The goal for the event when it was first conceived was to provide learning and networking for writers of all levels. It certainly fulfills it mission.

Here is the video of my  acceptance speech.

Heard on the 5:00 news: Someone has invented a soft, pink, pad to fit the icy, steel plate on the mammogram machine. The intent is to lessen the discomfort a patient (woman) might experience when taking the test.

Whoop-de-doo! After 50 years of using this instrument of torture, science has come up with an idea to make it easier on us. The technician being interviewed said some women might actually avoid their annual check-up because they are afraid of experiencing pain.

While I think it’s great to minimize the trauma of this procedure, most women are fairly familiar with discomfort. Can you say endometriosis? Or menstrual cramps? Child birth? Not to mention nursing a baby who is teething.

But, I guess that little pink pad is a step in the right direction.

About 30 years ago, I was scheduled for a needle biopsy. I arrived at outpatient registration about 8:00 a.m. — fasting. AKA no morning coffee. Three hours later, still fasting, I was taken to the lab for a pre-biopsy mammogram.

I had a raging caffeine-withdrawal headache and the technician seemed unfamiliar with her surroundings. I stood in front of the machine and “leaned in,” the best position for a good picture.

As my bare body touched the plate which had probably just come from the freezer, I felt a familiar aura.

“I’m going to faint,” I told the technician.

“Wait a minute,” she said.

Wait a minute? This is not a good time for you?

Sorry, I could not wait. When I woke on the floor, she was asking if we might try again. Success on the second try.

The fluid in the cyst was “suspicious,” which called for a lumpectomy. I consider that I survived a close call.

So, go ahead, women. Get that yearly check-up.

They have a soft, pink pad waiting for you.

While cleaning out a desk drawer, I came across this note from my youngest son: “I’m over at Alex’s. I’ll explain the fire extinguisher later.”

Now, 15 odd years later I don’t remember what that was all about, but it brings back memories that make me smile.

Back in the Seventies, my other son called me at work one day to tell me that he had “Good News” for me when I came home.  I was curious (and a little apprehensive) of course, but no amount of coaxing would move him to tell me anything other than it was “Good News.”

I worked 18 miles away in the city and I have to admit I drove home with a little trepidation. I remembered the day a few weeks earlier when I found a 7-foot cross in my living room. While striking the set after the praise musical, the youth director had asked, “Does anyone want this cross?” Of course Steve did.

So, on this day, I could not fathom what he might consider Good News. As it turned out, it was a copy of the Good News Bible, just recently released. Rather anti-climactic actually, after I had allowed my imagination go wild.

My boys have thus entertained me over the years. Soon after Phillip had moved out on his own, he told me, “You know, if I keep my dirty clothes in this duffel bag then when it’s time to do laundry I don’t have to gather it up.”

Had I never mentioned that?

Or, “If you squeeze out the kitchen sponge it won’t get all smelly.”

My sons have two older sisters and some day I’ll tell you stories about them. But, here I have to say having them first in no way prepared me for the boys that came after.

I got the letter yesterday. When I saw the return address, I knew what it was. I knew that inside that envelope was the announcement of the end of an era.

They call it modernizing, cutting costs, streamlining services. Of course that translates into deleting jobs and discontinuing certain services to the consumer.

Sometime in the next few months, the Arkansas Democrat Gazette is going “paperless” across the state. Beginning this summer, they will be almost completely online. The only issue published and distributed will be the Sunday Edition. The cost for delivery of that one newspaper? $8.00 per week. Wowzer.

But take heart. We who have supported this newspaper through our adult lives are not left without a solution. ADG will loan (or rent) us an iPad.

Every morning I can curl up in my favorite chair with a cup of coffee and the rented tablet. I can scroll and read to my heart’s content. I can cut out a recipe … whoops, maybe not. Probably can’t work the daily Soduku or crossword either.

Nope, it won’t be the same, which makes me a little sad.

Like I said, the end of an era.