A Christmas story...And Gord Bless Us, Everyone...

      The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. When it came near him, Daddy bent down upon his knee; for in the very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery. It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. ... It thrilled him with a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.
      “Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point,” said Daddy, “answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that will be, or are they shadows of things that may be, only?

      I started writing something completely fictional, something I hoped would be like Dickens but it seemed more like the Brady Bunch Christmas special and I was Jan. It just wasn't me...it just wasn't us. Maybe I'm just not that good a writer, maybe the times have finally changed and Dickens has past his best before date (though I doubt that) or maybe we are just too jaded  to be Dickensian anymore. We are a lot of things but the Brady Bunch we ain't. Nuclear family with the occasional explosion, sometimes heavy on the fallout but with few lingering effects.
      I must confess that I love 'A Christmas Carol'. Sure it's a heartwarming beloved tale of the holiday season but it's the deeper meaning that I love. 'Even if you are wicked your whole life, cool ghosts will still come to see you once a year!' So just desserts and all that. OK, I might be reaching a little...The message has always been to me that everyone can get a second chance, regardless of how crappily they have treated those around them. OK, REALLY bad people likely won't get a second chance, they would probably only use it to do more really bad things. You bastards know who you are and you'll get yours...rest assured. Now as for the rest of us.
      At 44 years old, I would like to think that I am a fairly decent person but good christ it took me an awfully long time to get here. You are probably reading this thinking 'What you? A bad person? No, I say. A thousand times no!' Yes true believers, I was not always as I am today. I looked back over my life and tried to remember something good that I had ever done...and I couldn't bring one to mind. I mean I wasn't evil or anything, I never screwed anyone over to get something I wanted but I certainly never did anything that didn't have my own best interest at heart.
      It's strange that when kids come along, all the other shit starts to melt away and adulthood seems to be what's left. I'm not saying that as soon as Isobel was born, that I became a stellar example of a good person, I didn't. Probably just the opposite. Still clinging desperately to the life I left. Remember kids, playing in a band means you never have to grow up. Look at Mick and Keef. But there were real concerns (money and gainful employment and all the other things that you don't give a shit about when it's just you) and responsibilities and now a little tiny thing counting on me to take care of her and her growing list of needs.
      Now there weren't any ghosts (how cool it would have been though) unless you count a hormonally haunted mother with a hair trigger temper and there wasn't any epiphany about the joys of parenthood and the responsibilities of being an adult. I can't even distill it down to any particular episode, it was a gradual thing.
      I was unbelievably selfish and immature to a lot of people and it just sort of went away over time. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I started to grow up. I remember talking to Frantic Frank a few years ago about how I couldn't be angry anymore, over any of the things that happened in the band. It just took too much time and energy to be mad for that long and I think this is more or less the same thing. I simply couldn't be that person anymore. I know there are many fathers who still put their needs before the needs of anyone else, including their children but I couldn't be one of them. I wouldn't want to be. And while we are on the subject, how do you teach your children to be decent people and contributors to the good of the world if you yourself are a gluttonous, joy sucking swine?  Lets face facts, if you don't want your children to do well, be decent people and make the world a better place for them having been in it, there is probably something the matter with you.

      So what's it all about, Alfie? What does all of this mean? Well like Scrooge, I have come to a few realizations about this life and this time of year is about as good as any other to be reflective. I have learned that it it s never too late to change who you are or who you think you are, you can teach old dogs new tricks. I have learned that children have most of the answers to life's problems. Really they do but few ever actually listen to them. I am learning to listen. My children, oddly enough, are two of the smartest people I know. But if I really have to give one thought, one Chrimbo message, it's this; make the world a better place than it was when you got here. Kindness comes in thousands of forms, all of them free. It could be something as simple as helping an old man to get into his wheelchair, or smiling at someone you pass on the street or giving a pair of shoes to a friend who is going through a rough patch. The deed itself doesn't matter, the effect is the same. I was a cold hearted cynical sonofabitch for a very long time and I just don't want to be that anymore. I have seen the difference something as simple as a smile can make in a person's life and I liked the feeling I got from it. The world can be a pretty scary, shitty place to live but I think it wants to be a good place. Good for us and those that will follow us... but we have to help it along. Be nice to one another.

      We were watching 'A Christmas Carol', the George C Scott version. Izzy asked me why his voice was like that?
      "Because he was full of evil and badness, eventually your voice will go like that too."
      "Really?"she asked.
      "No," I said. "I think he just smoked too much."
      "Aww," she said. "I want my voice to sound like that."
      We continued to watch and she was excited by the ghosts.
      "When do the zombies come?"
      "Wait, what?" I asked.
      "The zombies," she said. "When do the zombies come?"
      "There are no zombies in this, only ghosts."
      "Oh." she said, not hiding the disappointment.
      "Daddy?"
      "Yep?"
      "Daddy, who's Gord?"
      "Gord, what are you talking about?"
      "The kid on the commercial said 'and Gord bless us all. Everyone.' Who the hell is Gord?"

   From all of us at Fuzzy Blue Chair, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!