If we take Christmas 2019 as The Last Normal Christmas then I’m nominating Christmas 2022 as The Year We Took Christmas Back. Despite mutterings from Fearful Fauci, the Covid Coward Brigade and Karens across the nation, we’re taking back Christmas and by extension, our lives. We’ve had enough.
I won’t bore you with the news coming out in the right media about how badly we were all played. Neither will I bore you with the left media and their continual ass-covering for their masters.
Instead, let me tell you about Christmas Eve here in the Bitty Burg.
It’s cold, very cold for this part of North Carolina. Our heat pump hasn’t stopped running since yesterday afternoon sometime. Thankfully, I don’t believe the 10 kW worth of heat strips ever kicked in. I’m happy with it’s unexpected good performance, especially considering it’s 10+ years old. We’ll be below freezing until sometime Monday, if we’re lucky. The last time I recall weather like this was the winter of 95-96, when it was much worse. This is a cakewalk compared to that–I’m not trying to shovel 15″ of snow. There are probably other times since then, but they don’t stand out in my memory.
We pretty much finished our preparations for a family Christmas Eve this morning. Mrs. Freeholder was on that while I drove into town to get our BBQ shoulder and the fixins. She decided to stay home and take out her frustrations by house cleaning. Her brother and sister-in-law have decided to bail on Christmas for the third year running. Their power is out, and rather than accepting our offer to stay with us, they decided to hie off to their pied-a-terre in Chapel Hell. I suspect my and the kids’ status as pure bloods had something to do with that decision.
Obviously, they fit in quite well in Chapel Hell. The place is so liberal it makes my teeth hurt–and to think I used to live there.
For me, it’s not a thing. I can take them or leave them, and as you might guess, I prefer to leave them.
Anyway, I left for town just before lunch. As I traveled across our new bridge, I blessed all the men who built it and got it open in time for Christmas. We’ve missed that bridge all summer, and it cuts 15 minutes on a trip to Daughter’s place or into town.
Arriving at the BBQ joint, I pulled up into the drive-in portion of the parking lot. Normally I’d go in, but it’s cold and even the heated jacket isn’t keeping the creak in my bones at bay today. The teenager who brought it out got a hefty tip.
Used to be you picked them up at the pit building where they were cooked. If you were lucky, you would watch them pull your shoulder off the pits and wrap it. You came home smelling like the pits, a combination of wood smoke and pig. These days, they do the pickup inside. Business is good enough that they have to time things in shifts. Easier on everyone, but not quite as much fun.
I needed to hit a local hardware store for a part to repair a baby gate. I was picking on a guy wearing a hat with “Hawaii” on it. He laughed and regaled me with his family’s trip there last month. I smiled and told him that it seems he had a great time. “Yeah, we did. You know, I looked up Key West’s weather this morning and it’s 58o. I wonder if they’re freezing?” I told him they were all probably staying inside and complaining. We wished each other a Merry Christmas and continued on with our search. I have no idea who this man was, but I appreciate his friendliness and good humor.
Items found and paid for, I headed out to my truck. A man, walking across the parking lot, with me a “Merry Christmas!” and I returned the greeting. Again, I have no idea who this man was either.
Reaching my truck, there was a lady behind me on the phone. Her hood was up. Before I could decide if I should ask if she needed help, another man asked her if she needed a jump. My raising finally kicked in and I said “I have a jump box–it’s easier.” He agreed that it beat jumper cables. I pulled it out, hooked up, found the box didn’t like that connection, tried again and got her started. She was asking us if batteries would die in cold weather. Bless her heart, she didn’t seem to know anything about a car other than the key goes in here and your drive it. We told her that it did and directed her to the local Advance and O’Reilly’s (they almost next door to each other) with the admonishment to not turn the car off. The guys at one of those can get her a battery and install it for her.
Driving home, I reflected on how my life has changed over the years and the changes the damnable Wuflu forced on us. It has split families and friends. It has made us suspicious of each other, lest we offend someone by our physical closeness or our vaccine status or our viewpoint. It’s brought out the worst in many of us. And then there are the dead, both from Wuflu and from what we allowed to happen because of our fear of Wuflu and death. Old folks, fathers and grandfathers, mothers and grandmothers, who died with their only comfort being a phone call from a relative to say goodbye.
My God, what we allowed them to do to us. There will be a day of reckoning.
But, that day isn’t today. Instead, today is one of mild rebirth, least in Bitty Burg. The past couple of years only changed most of us on the surface. And we are cracking that shell and coming back out, returning to our old selves and our old behaviors. This trip out was a most amazing Christmas gift, and one I probably needed. God whispers, after all.
I hope each of you who happens by here has as wonderful a Christmas as I’ve already had. May God bless and keep you, and us all.