I complain regularly about the little rural community wherein I reside. It's a very very affluent community with a pockmarked seamed underbelly of stark poverty. Viewed with the right jaundice-colored glasses, there is a lot wrong with the sociopolitical scene here in Corntown.
Of course as JWs we all wore those bile-colored glasses when viewing the world and the things in it. And I find it's hard to teach the old dog a new way of looking at the world. But this Christmas season is having a nice bash at the bad lenses, slipping some rosier tones into the replacement lenses.
My oldest son and his fiancee took me with them to the official tree-lighting ceremony on the town square. They brought a wheelchair and set me up like a queen in a little mobile throne.
Our affluent community decorates grandly, with tasteful white lights on everything, it is quite a spectacle.
Downtown was closed to traffic and all the local businesses were brightly-lit and decorated; many of the windows were shrouded until the official lighting, at which time delighful animated surprises were unveiled. The shop windows were all gorgeous, the doors open wide, browsing and shopping all done with smiles and cheery greetings all around. One business had ice sculptors on the street outside, busy carving angels and other icons of the season. A brass band played carols, and huge draft horses patiently pulled wagonloads of happy people around the square to see the sights. People strolled in happy elbow-to-elbow throngs, greeting each other and smiling at dogs, kids, babies.
I learned that all people on wheels make eye contact with one another; little kids in strollers grinned at me as we wheeled past, as did the other wheeled adults (I also learned that my eldest child takes pleasure in pushing me around in the wheelchair, and he's getting so he thinks the top of my head is his special kissing place. It's an odd feeling, the first step on the road that leads to the natural role reversal of caretaking. I find it hard to gracefully accept the ministrations of his new little family. I'm the caregiver dangit, whatchoo doin tryin to put a lap robe on ME? ).
There were roving clowns and other characters (a pink hippo, a walking Christmas tree, elves, a giant teddy bear) giving away balloons, candy canes, little favors to the kids. Folks passed out candles to hold aloft around the tree; teens spread out to offer their candles to others, and the lighting of them became part of the sharing. My new grandkids seemed to enjoy sticking close and showing Grandma the best bits, after a candle-lighting foray through the crowd.
Santa appeared on the roof of a corner building and our valiant fire squad rescued him with a ladder truck. Then the tree was lit with proper ceremony.
Afterwards folks sipped hot chocolate courtesy of one of the local clubs, strolled the strip again, and shopped/gawked/chatted/laughed, a beautiful clatter of happy noise.
I looked around at the crowd: my neighbors, associates, acquaintances, strangers: all ages, races, backgrounds, all together to share the joy of the holiday. I considered the JW attitude, that Christmas is just a filthy Babylonish paganism, that all those people are misguided at best, willfully sinful at worst, and deserving of destruction. I considered the beaming faces, the cheerful examples of kindness and decency unfolding before my eyes, and wondered anew at the narrow hardhearted philosophy of JWdom, where something so warm and wonderful could be spurned out of some dessicated scrupulosity for doctrinal purity.
The jaundiced bits of Mommie reminded her that the local merchants intend to recoup the cost of the entertainment in Christmas sales. Reminded her that some of the raggedy-looking folks standing around the square would not have much more holiday fun that what they could glean by standing and looking at the toys of the very rich.
I told the jaundiced bits to shut the smeg up and let me enjoy the flow of the moment. Wonder of wonders, they shut the smeg up and let me enjoy! Was this the Dark Christmas miracle?
I had a wonderful filthy debauched apostate time during the entire affair. It was a lovely evening, and when the kids asked me if I want to come with them to the tree-lighting at the big cemetery next week, I agreed happily.
If this is evil, then give me more of it! A whole community being nice and happy together: oh, the world and the things in it! Yummy!