A Dark Christmas

It use to be, in this hood, that Christmas lights were a big thing. Few houses didn't have them but now it's the opposite, few houses do have them.  We're no longer religious though Wally has asked to go to Mass at St. Monica and I'll take him during Christmas, I'll bring my Nook while he watches the show.

And that to me is what Christmas is, a show. A kind of glitter for the gloom of winter and the coming of the new year. A time to have some fun and be merry. One of the things I enjoy about winter is sitting next to the front window where the sweet gum trees are bright with fall colors. I like to read and write as I watch the leaves shimmer gold, bronze and burgundy. In the rain, their bark turns black making the leaves even more striking. One of the first books I read at that window were the tales of Uncle Remus. Every year after, I have read at that window when the weather turned cold and the sweet gum trees lit up with fire.

The Palace is a dark and gloomy dwelling, no light ever comes out of it or into it anytime of the year. The house on the other side of us is vacant and has been since Ray, the guy that lived there all his life, died some years ago. But across the street, when they are home, Christmas lights are on. Outside of that there are only two houses on each end of the block with lights.

As a kid, I use to carol with others in the hood. I don't know how good we were but it was fun and people enjoyed it. Now at Halloween. Everyone does the spook thing. We leave though, the hordes of sticky people that descend here is frightening, really spooky because there is no way in hell that many kids live in this hood and I've seen them dumped off from vans and buses to scavenge the hood for anything including decorations.

But not Christmas. Not when you see your breath in the chill while you and friends look at the lights strung up and make a toast to Christmas cheer and the sweet gum trees that are ablaze.  They don't carol here anymore, not in years that I can remember. Too bad because sometimes, when I look out the front window, I see the ghosts of Christmas past and us boys that went caroling in our hood.