It's the Rant Before Christmas

 Have you ever had one of those mornings where you'd rather not get out of bed? I woke up like that today. Nothing earth shaking. Just a low feeling of malaise. A temporary depressive state. And given the current events in the world, it's not all that surprising.

On days when I get that feeling, I use certain activities to shake myself out of the blues. Like dancing to online zumba classes. Or clapping my hands and jumping up and down. (Try it...it works.) Today, I made the mistake of going online and reading about the crazy happenings with our southern neighbors. It was too much. 

Fortunately, I went out to meet some friends at the Orange Toad, for tea. Sitting at a table next to other people in your community is relaxing.  I don't know about men, but women need each other's company. It's like free heart medication. I pictured myself lying on the floor of the coffee shop, barely able to lift my head, and Meghan, the owner, helping me up and saying, 'Here's your mint tea!' (I order the same thing every time. I'm very ritualistic...it's an ADD thing.) 

I felt much better when I left her place. Next, my friend Lois and I strolled over to the Red Apple, one of those 'we sell bar fridges and the cheapest sheets in the world' kind of stores. I was scanning the shelves for stocking stuffers when a Christmas song came on. Except in this one, nobody was wishing us a holly, jolly Christmas. Nobody was rockin' round the Christmas tree, or walking in a winter wonderland. Instead, the lyrics went like this:

Please Daddy, don't get drunk this Christmas
I don't wanna see my Mamma cry
Please Daddy, don't get drunk this Christmas
I don't wanna see my Mamma cry

I put back the shiny ornament I held in my hand and stared at a woman standing near by. 'Can you believe this song?' she asked me. 

The person singing might as well have been saying, 'Everything's bad. Lose all hope. Forget about Christmas.' Alan Jackson was the singer, but when I googled it, I discovered that John Denver wrote it! 

Look, folks. It's bad enough that 'He Who Shall Not Be Named,' won the US election. It's disturbing enough that I have to hear about it every single day, whenever I turn on my computer or listen to the news. But depressing Christmas music? 

Whatever happend to 'Grandma got run over by a reindeer? That one's funny, and the tune is catchy. 'Please Daddy' sounds like a funeral dirge, only daddy's not dead, he's just drunk as a skunk. And momma is sad. 

Perhaps the music channel wanted to make a statment. Maybe, like me, they find Hallmark movies depressing with their constant cheer and excessive decorating. But let there be some middle ground! A happy medium, where someone is having a hard day but then they meet friends for tea and everyone cheers up. 

Yes, John Lennon sang 'War is Over if You Want It' while depressing news played in the background. But that was the early seventies when people believed that anything was possible. Elvis sang 'Blue Christmas,' but listening to it didn't make you feel sad. It had you thinking, 'Get over here, buddy. I'll cheer you up in no time.'

But this song is an affront to Christmas. I'm someone who celebrates traditionally, with church on Christmas Eve and the singing of old fashioned carols like O Holy Night. But I embrace the other stuff, too. Like, Holly Jolly Christmas, and Jingle Bells and Rudolf the Rednose Reindeer. The classics. 

John Denver wrote Rocky Moutain High, and Annie's song. He's the guy who sang, ''You fill up my senses.' He's not supposed to be the 'You're killing your liver,' guy. 

I'm sure this song came from someplace real. And maybe it resonates with those who had a hard time while growing up. But please don't play this song in stores. We need Andy Williams and Michael Buble, and the Muppets. In these tough mental and emotional times (thanks for that, US Republicans) we need a pick me up, not a 'bring me down.' Now excuse me while I go watch Will Ferrell in 'Elf.' And let me end this blog by paraphrasing a line from that movie by addressing everyone's favourite, relaxing hangout. To the Orange Toad staff - 'congratulations on making the best mint tea in the world!' 

Dear Boomer

 Let's face it. We need to talk about our faces. Like, what the hell? You live for thirty, forty years and that image in the mirror doesn't change all that much. But you keep living your life (with gratitude, because not everyone gets to do that) and it starts to feel like time has sped up. It's a fast moving Ferris Wheel that won't let you off no matter how you yell at the carnie working the ride.

Every morning I gird my loins (my sayings are stuck in the past--it might be a boomer thing) and take that first look at myself. I kid you not, things can change in a day. 'Where did THAT wrinkle come from?' I say with a frown (adding ten more years to my face.) It's like the old age fairy has dropped by just to mess with me. 'I'll give her two new wrinkles, just for fun!' (The old age fairy is ancient and has not been in a good mood for many centuries.) But the worst thing about being a boomer? Having millenials talk to you in a loud voice.

Now, maybe this hasn't happened to you, yet. But let me tell you, it's weird. 

"I can hear you," I said, the first time it happened. Meanwhile I was thinking, 'Do I look THAT old?' And then I remembered. When I was 16, I couldn't tell if grownup people were thirty or fifty. I mean, I didn't think they were a hundred. I just knew they were old. 

And one day, you realize that all those claims you've heard about the flu or Covid or pneumonia hitting seniors harder, are true. 'But not me,' I once thought. 'Because I work out. I go for walks. I eat salad on a regular basis. So, I should get a pass, right?'

Apparently not. I'm just so delicate now. And it really makes me mad. I recently visited my children in Calgary where my skin had a savage reaction to the dry air. (Manitoba is apparently moisture central.) The rash on my face looked apocalyptic, and it took days to go away. I wore so much Nivea, my pores began to clog. My face finally cleared up, but then my sinuses seized up and I developed a cough. The day after I came back to Manitoba, it all went away. 

I know I'm lucky not to have more aches and pains than I do (although my right knee accurately predicts the weather) but honestly, I believed I would soar through my senior years. There has been some soaring...I slipped on the ice last winter...but life insists on showing me that I'm getting old. er. 

Aging people are like cars. Some are antiques that look fabulous, while others rest in empty lots with their wheels off, letting rust eats away at their bottoms. I'm working hard to make myself rust repellent, but really, there's not much you can do about your looks. Unless you're rich. But rich old people can look really stupid because of all the surgery and filler. I don't want that.

Now, I have to address something that can happen to senior Christians. Just for a minute. It's about us and the state of the world, so please avert your eyes, or head to the bottom of the page if this talk will upset you. Because I need a moment to speak to my people. 

So, to my fellow Christian boomers, I have some advice to help you negotiate these troubling times. ( I mean, it's my blog, right?)

1. Try not to get set in your ways. Don't visit Old Fartsville. It's hard to leave.

2. Sin is not what we thought in the past. It's not premarital sex or being gay or allowing people to have a sex change. Because that's not about you, and it's not your business. Sin means missing the mark. Missing the point of how Jesus lived and what he said to do.

Like,

Provide shelter to those with no place to live. Feed the hungry. Comfort the grieving. Let those without sin cast the first stone. Love one another. Forgive one another. 

In a country like ours, that means voting for policies that reflect your Christian views. Like supporting food banks, offering more public housing, and generally not acting like you're doing better than those struggling with poverty or drug abuse because you're superior in some way. Being Christian means acknowledging your privilege. Did you have love as a child? Were you fed? Housed? Encouraged? That means that even if money was tight, you had a great start in life.

Okay, other boomers. Please come back to the conversation. And don't try to make me feel better by leaving a compliment in the comment section. I never kid myself. Instead, let me know how this aging journey is going for you. 

Most importantly, keep your chin up. Because your neck looks way better in that position. And we all need to do what we can.