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My Christmas Diary

 Maplewood is now posting sub-arctic temperatures, so I'm mostly glued to my sofa. But the outside world still intrudes, in interesting ways, and I'm happy about that.


In our town square, for example, some kind of church has erected a tacky manger with a beatific Jesus and some saintly donkeys. A few feet away, in a kind of "subtweet," the NJ Society of Atheists has posted a sign. "In the season of the WINTER SOLSTICE, remember there can be no freedom of religion without THE FREEDOM TO DISSENT. Keep God and State separate. Remember the Constitution." Next to the sign, a sassy, cardboard Benjamin Franklin holds a pen; he seems to be giving the side-eye to the Christmas tree. This is Maplewood in living color.

Marc and I did drag ourselves to a movie on December 24th; at least one of us enlisted the help of thermal underwear. During the screening, I studied an elderly couple two rows down; these people were like Ghosts of Christmas Future. "What do they call this movie? They should call it The Black Screen--because that's what I'm seeing. Was there no budget for lighting? It's too damn dark. By the way, how do you send a text? I can't send a text. Well, I can send a text to Timmy. But, I mean, a *general* text. How do you send a *general* text?"

My favorite (tele)visit was from my nemesis, Nurse Steffi, who called to scold me for not having cleaned out my child's nostrils. I simply listened--and I lied. I'll confess. I lied and said, "I'll get right on that," and then I didn't change a damn thing. I do not see saline spray in my little baby's immediate future. But a heart-to-heart seemed inadvisable. Mea culpa.

May this long, long winter reach its end.
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