The party’s over,
It’s time to call it a day.
They’ve burst your pretty balloons
And taken the moon away.
It’s time to wind up the masquerade—
Just make your mind up
The piper must be paid.
— Jules Styne and others
Oh dear, I’m in one of those “unsettled” funks when no topic causes my literary juices to flow. This happens every January. I think of it as being in the doldrums. In nautical terms, it’s a time when sailing ships become becalmed. I understand Coleridge’s lines from “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” much of which I know by heart: “Day after day, day after day, we struck nor breath nor motion. As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean.” I have a huge to-do list, but become paralyzed when I look at it.
This past Christmas, our tree was one of the prettiest; throughout the house were items that friends and Vicki made or gave us that triggered memories of beloved people; the food was sumptuous; and it was heartwarming to have our family gathered round and receive delightful and useful gifts. And then came the letdown when the gifts, glitz and glitter had to be packed away.
Bill isn’t superstitious, he says — just careful. Hence, the tree must go out on New Year’s Eve as his family devoutly believe that bad luck will ensue if the tree is taken into the New Year. Further, others may caper, cavort and celebrate, but I see no reason to rejoice in the passing of another year of my precious time.
Oh, there are some good memories of New Year’s Eve. Bill’s dear mother always gave us a gift box of gourmet treats for Christmas that we ate on New Year’s Eve, and sometimes she was with us. The grandboys often came when they were young. We’d set out snacks, and they’d arrange their sleeping bags around the TV. One would announce, “I’m stayin’ up till midnight!” The others would chime in, “Me too!” “Me too!” Needless to say, they were fast asleep by ten o’clock. So long ago . . . long ago . . . but I still hear their voices in my mind’s ear.
My sour mood wasn’t improved when my Kindle quit working. I suspect that it would be cheaper to buy a new one than to have it repaired. Just as I didn’t want a cat, I resisted getting a Kindle, saying “I prefer the feel of holding a book in my hands.“ Vicki and Tom gave me one for Christmas a few years ago. I take Christmas gifts seriously, so I started using it and in so doing discovered the world of Amazon.
Technology is addictive. All I have to do is go to Amazon on my computer, choose the book I want and buy it with one click via my credit card that’s in their system. Hey presto! Within a minute, the book is waiting on my Kindle. Electronic wizardry is wonderful when it works. When it doesn’t it is aggravating. I was in the middle of John Grisham’s latest book which is a very good read.
Meanwhile, I’ve started reading The Name of the Wind that Grandson Chris and his wife, Tasha, gave me for Christmas, saying that it’s wonderful. “The protagonist reminds me of Harry Potter,” said Chris. A devout Potterologist, I am dubious, but we shall see.
Alas, perfection rarely lasts. Life is more than peaks and valleys. Sometimes it runs along in a straight line like railroad tracks on the plains of Kansas. I am learning to appreciate the ho-hum times. Today it’s bitterly cold, and I shall be thankful for our cozy home and a quiet day with Bill. wclarke@comcast.net
P.S. Several fellow chocoholics responded to my recent column. Niece Barbara makes a version of Pain au Chocolat that I shall try. She bakes Pillsbury Croissants with chocolate chips in the center. Sounds yummy!