"After all the angst, anger, and sorrow that has been 2020,
It is my sincerest, deepest hope that when, or if, families gather
for Thanksgiving and Christmas that everyone remembers this year
and how precious is that joy that accompanies the season
and the love which has always been there.
For if 2020 has taught us anything at all,
it is that nothing is certain
and whatever moments we have must be cherished
before they slip away."
--Ralph F. Couey
Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey
Cheryl and I were sitting on the couch the other night, watching yet another joyful replay of Super Bowl LIV, when I asked, "What are we doing for the Holidays?"
Her response was almost automatic, that we would gather with family for food, fun, and Mah-Jong. I accepted this at first, then asked, "But what if we can't?
This is not an idle question. For the first time in modern memory, the traditional family gatherings around Thanksgiving and Christmas have been thrown into a kind of purgatory. While the numbers here in Hawai'i are flattening to the point where the government has started a phased re-opening, in the mainland, the numbers are spiking alarmingly. The tourist industry is ramping up, and the response was almost immediate. Almost overnight, the daily arrivals went from around 100 to 18,000. While we are delighted to have that revenue stream restored, some of us are concerned about people coming from places where the numbers are once again out of control. Gatherings of any kind are still restricted to five people or less, but we have 16 people, and maybe more, so unless the restrictions are eased, it's hard to imagine how to have a traditional type of holiday.
But this is the Pandemic, after all, and Pandemics are where traditions go to die. I don't know how you folks on the mainland will manage this without adding to your sadness. No doubt some, perhaps many, will throw caution to the winds and gather anyway, accepting whatever consequences ensue. That is, if the neighbors don't call the police on you.
It's tough. It's been a terrible year (unless you're a Chiefs fan) and we are all carrying an extra burden of sorrow, sadness, and even anger. We're in the closing days of the most divisive political campaign in history, and with the dread certainty that the election results will be tied up in litigation for the foreseeable future, regardless of who wins. We need these holidays any year, but this year we REALLY need them. We need to be able to gather with loved ones someplace where it's safe and warm. We need the hugs, kisses, and smiles to light our lives. We need the laughter, and the quiet, serious conversations. We need the recollections and the roars of laughter that accompany them. We need all that this year, especially this year. And it seems tragic that at the time we need it most, it will likely be denied to us. Video chat, while nice to have, is a poor substitute for true face-to-face moments. You can watch little kids scream in delight while opening presents, but it's nothing like being in the same room.
For the first time in decades, Charlie Brown and his friends will not be sharing their story with us. For me, that's what Christmas was all about.
And I don't care how big your bandwidth is, you can't serve a turkey over the internet.
If nothing else, perhaps we will this year finally appreciate how important and necessary those past gatherings were. It's almost never that, while in the moment, we understand how precious and vital those moments are. Memories are all well and good, but the store of those joyful times must be continually restored, lest our tanks run dry.
Seasonally Adjusted Disorder, or SAD, is a real thing, a recognized and diagnosable psychological state. The holidays are hard on a lot of people, in most cases because those people are alone. In these days, those feelings of isolation, of feeling cut off from everything and everyone important. Now, a lot of people risk being in that place. It may be prudent and compassionate to try to remember to reach out to those folks who may have found themselves too far away, or trapped in a lockdown or quarantine. We will need each other in a way we've never really needed before.
It's a bit easier here, at least we can go outside and get some sunshine. I remember how it was living in the mountains of western Pennsylvania, when the days became endlessly short, cold, and gloomy. It was dark when I went into work, and dark when I left for home. It was then that I coined my personal name for January and February -- the long, dark tunnel.
In the past, the joy of the holidays arrived unbidden. This year -- and I pray to God that it's only this year -- we will have to work to create the joy, and try to sustain it through the weeks. We will need to not only take care of others, we will really need to take care of ourselves.
We have largely learned to live with this Pandemic limp. Despite the restrictions, we still managed to have a little fun this summer. There was a baseball season (sort of), and a haphazard football season played before the yawning visage of empty stadiums. The NHL and NBA seasons passed, seemingly without notice. We got used to masks, and hand sanitizer, and endless applications of disinfectant. We managed to forget how nice it was just to spend an hour or so at a table in McDonald's nursing a cup of coffee while chatting with friends. We learned how to see a smile in someone's eyes because the mouth was covered.
And we truly learned to never again take anything "normal" for granted.
Nobody knows what the future has in store. This thing could be gone in a few months, or we will have to learn to live with it forever. There's still too many unanswered questions. But the holidays are coming. And we need to dig out whatever joy there is to be found and live it enthusiastically. We'll have to work at it, but we can still have a wonderful holiday season, provided we don't set the bar too high.
Please take care this year. Look to the light, and find reasons to be joyful. And while we may be all alone, at least we'll be alone together.
God Bless us every one.
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