O Stormy Night

Struggling during the holiday to find hope in the cesspool of news, especially the stuff they've been trying to hide from us.

A party or gathering every night for a week has been a great blessing. But on Christmas Eve when it's just family, I just want to keep laying down and closing my eyes.

I keep them open to watch the Spinal Tap movie, just to see Rob Reiner alive and well one last time. Mini-spoiler alert: in the last scene of the credits he is trying to save someone's life. Comically poignant.

Pounding rain and the midnight cat wake us up. Santa came early last night, leisurely, as he does among adults, and the tree lights still twinkle in the other room, and in the yard. Dave says, "Hey Google, turn off the Christmas lights."

I say, "Honey no! How's the Christ child going to find his way into the Holy Birth Canal tonight?” My own laughter wakes me fully up, and I make a post on BlueSky. AI intrusively offers help finding a photo to go with the post.

Now that I have committed that sin against melatonin of putting light in my eyes, I have a hard time returning to my long winter's nap. I think about my friends at midnight mass last night—I was too tired to go but they're probably still up, sipping sherry, nibbling cookies.

I miss Christmas Carols. The real ones that you sing unironically in a room full of strangers, about angels on high and blooming roses and falling on your knees and a sweet baby's head. It's a silent night here save the rain and now the hum of a C-pap. I fumble around for my headphones and search Facebook for midnight mass carols. Pope Leo gave his first Christmas mass, that's cool. I remember my old aunties and grandmas tuning into the broadcast on their 13-inch black-and-white TVs, afghans over their old feet. The uplift of words like “the peace that passeth all human understanding.”

Finally I find a Spotify playlist that has the sort of chorale music I crave, but as I am listening I am trying to install the Deezer app since we're trying to leave Spotify because of the ICE ads. Images of CECOT haunt me, the images they didn't want us to see. I think, as I listen, about the wonderful new wave of protest songs this year. I think about writing a new carol called The Shackled Men, about how Christ's Love (aka activist love for those who don't observe) might reach their hearts and give them hope, and reach them and the women and the kids of every gender through all the anger-fueled political actions we're all gonna take as soon as those motherfucking presents are open.

I remember how the local classical radio station in my hometown, now defunct, used to ramp up to Christmas music so tastefully, easing us into the season. Only at noon on Christmas Eve did the carols and hymns start playing back to back, until noon on Christmas Day when they'd start easing back from the sacred to the secular.

RADIO! I Google the classical station in my area now. No, not Google…I search for it in my Ecosia browser, the one that plants trees. I have to opt out of marketing cookies but at last the true spirit of Christmas fills my ears. I think of all the money we spend on music apps…what if we put that into public radio stations instead? What if we listened to all these CDs we own? What if we just reset back to the 90s for a year?

I hear a noise in the living room. Santa? But…

It sounds like the cat working on a food puzzle but he's at my feet. I creep out of bed and sneak towards the sound, holding my hand over the flashlight like I'm carrying a gun, my heart beating at what I might find. It's coming from behind the gigantic TV. But the sound is coming from in the wall.

RODENTS? On Christmas? Actual vermin? I have to laugh. It's too much. I bang on the wall, which shuts them up but wakes up Dave, of course. I don't tell him about the rats. I put my earbuds back in and the peace washes over me again as the rain lashes at the windows. Poor critters, we all need habitat. I search for humane pest control devices. After rejecting those marketing cookies again, I find a high frequency device you can plug into the wall. Rats, you’re a blessing in disguise…this is a material solution I really need in this old homestead to also keep ants and clothing moths away. I compare all the models as the singers in my ears go on about this night divine, and find the best one. But you can only get it at Amazon, Home Depot, and Walmart. Yeah. Should I support the company who “donated” to Trump's ballroom/data center/monument! The one that's letting ICE roam it's lots and aisles? Hmm. The latter stopped donating to Trump and actually closed it's stores on Christmas Day. I can support that.

Wishing everyone a peaceful winter season. The solstice is behind us and the Epstein files are coming out. The light is coming.