Radio announcer was expounding…
“Christmas trees should stay up for equal amounts of time before and after Christmas",”…which bled into religion, traditional celebrations, and how we talk about the holiday season.
His opinions felt like a wool sweater.
“This wicked cold is going to dip into the deep south and set off storms in the east, Holiday travel will be treacherous,”… I couldn’t stop noticing the gloom and doom forecast repeated in ten minute cycles while I sat in the waiting room. Who’s traveling anyhow? Aren’t we all supposed to stay home?
The fear mongering made me want to shout.
I recently picked up a little ditty from De Mello about two blind men…
One asked a sighted person what the color green was like…
”Green is like a soft breeze.”
Oddly enough, the same sighted person encountered another blind person the very next day. She also wanted to know what green was like.
”Green is like soft satin.”
Next day…the sighted person came across the two blind people and listened to them argue vehemently—Green is like a soft breeze! No! Green is like soft satin!
Humans…interesting indeed.
Hi Gail, As I’m often prone to do, my hasty read of “...like a wool sweater,” seemed associated with the winter comfort of a thick wool sweater. The itch possibility came a bit later. These days a silk undergarment before the wool sweater goes on enhances the former and vanquished the latter.
Back on the metaphorical “itch” of the folks who pontificate on “the war on Christmas,” my child-like wonder (or naïveté) seemed to automatically ask for an embrace of this time of year. So today I wrinkle (more than it is already) my brow when the bombast of talking heads latches onto the topic “War on Christmas.”
I’ll take the wool sweater/hold the silk anyway!
Merry Now!
Merry Christmas Gail! All the best for 2021. Thank you for your posts, give Henny a hug. ox