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December is a time of contrasts, strong highlights and dark shadows, a time of could be, should be and what is.  Bare tree branches sharply outlined against a cloudless sky, the smooth trunk bark bright by half and dark behind the way the days divide themselves on solstice. The songs remind us of joy, peace, happiness, of which we have plenty.  The world reminds us of
the other.

If I let my mind wander I end up—
—walking down Beacon Street, along the Public Garden to Boylston to catch train D, it was snowing hard, coming on Christmas, Boston was wet and cold.  Other days I would walk, by the Garden and the Common, up Beacon Hill to another Hospital.  I was young then, the world was new.  My residence, through the kindness of friends, was a stately Brownstone on Beacon Street, the first floor contained a library, not large but most comforting on winter days.  It was here, in the warm wood paneled ambience, settled in the soft curved-back chair, under the yellow lamplight, I first read Dickens “A Christmas Carol”.  A story filled with contrasts fitting the season, or perhaps a season fitting the contrasts;  what could be, what would be, what is.

My best wishes for Happy Holidays and a Merry Christmas,

Don

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