My day started last night when I went to East Haddam's UCC for candlelight services
. The preacher, Reverend Paul Goodman, told the story
of battling regiments who, during World War I, began to sing carols back and forth on Christmas Eve. The Christmas Truce of 1914
continued through the night and into the next day with excanges of gifts between supposed enemy combatants, sharing of letters and momentoes and two impromptu soccer matches. This welcome respite from blood-letting continued for almost three days until the minitary command forbade this unacceptable behavior with threat of charging the soldiers with treason. It didn't come to that. Fighting resumed, albeit with an edge and hesitancy from troops who questioned firing upon others like themselves: rank-and-file, ordinary working men fighting battles for the privileged classes, as always. // A refreshing counterpoint to today's faux-news warmongers.
This morning I arose at 0330 hours to prepare for my annual pilgrimage to Misquamacut with Lorraine, to watch the sun rise. Making coffee, gathering extra layers of outerwear in case it's still too cold [this
year we needed only arctic hats] ensuring that the camera batteries were fresh. When we arrived the moon was still the most visible orb in the sky. It was still. No people at all this year, unlike the bagpiper and the surfers
from previous visits.
We shared our stories, our triumphs and trials fromthe past year together. I paid silent tribute to the passing of my Mom
, Lorraine of the coming birth of a new grandchild. We talked about the continued failings of the mental health system and power-grabbing bureaucrats, more interested in divorcing themselves from their
clients, than in being there for anybody other than themselves. We didn't talk about Hurricane Katrina, Iraq, George Bush or the darkness in the world today. For today was about joy, hope, fresh starts, and the endurance of the Human Spirit. It felt good.