Despite my Christmas cartoon – which shows a disgruntled Santa in a suit of camouflage sitting in an empty sleigh – I wish everyone a very merry Christmas. I’ll be back here next week.
If your award comes from Trump, do you qualify as an honoree?
A shooting at Brown. A shooting in Sydney. Looking for solace, we drove to Miami yesterday afternoon for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral. A few of the lessons were read in Spanish; the first verse of Silent Night was sung in Spanish, French, and then English. The congregation, like the Anglican Chorale, was a mix of WASPs, Blacks, and Hispanics. In his announcements, the Very Reverend Jason Roberson asked us to remember in our prayers especially “our Jewish siblings.”
Yesterday Hania was wrapping presents in the living room while I was writing cards here in the office, and I thought: We have a regular Santa’s workshop here.
There have been numerous stories on social media about Tom Stoppard, who died on Saturday at the age of 88. My lasting memory of him is from 1999, when he won the Oscar for best screenplay (Shakespeare in Love). He accepted the award shortly after Roberto Benigni had accepted his (for Best Foreign Film), climbing onto the backs of seats in delight before arriving manically on stage. Stoppard, standing tall and composed at the microphone, said: “I’m acting like Roberto Benigni, only inside.”
Last evening, coming out of a Publix we rarely shop at, I stumbled slightly stepping off the curb.
“I thought there was a ramp,” I said to Hania.
“Indyk myślał o niedzieli, a w sobotę łeb mu ścięli,” she replied. (The turkey thought about Sunday and on Saturday they cut off his head.)
It was not the ideal situation for the proverb, which is more about living in the moment and not looking ahead. But hearing it – for the first time – on Thanksgiving Eve pretty much made my holiday.