Christmas cookies

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Christmas cookies for sale at Walgreen’s two weeks before Halloween underscores boldly the madness of the marketplace.

Well, Halloween is over. “Trick or Treat! Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat. I bask in the bliss of stuffing my face with sugar and corn syrup. I worship s’mores.”

The season moves into russet-leaved scenes of a peaceful and  prosperous table around which those who gather share a feast that should be known by all — even the least for whom such scenes exist as a fable.

Thanksgiving, a one-day event, pales against the season of Christmas sales, Christmas parties, Christmas dinners, and, yes, Christmas quarrels feasting on Christmas stress. And in the midst of this, little is said of one who was born but is now long dead.

I see the Easter Bunny coming down the road carrying a cross, wearing a crown of thorns. I see Jesus with a basket of free-range, organic and fair trade eggs given to so-called societal dregs labeled as unequal to the task it is to be in the world of push and shove, advance or decline. But what about love?

And while we’re at it what about Good Will, Peace on Earth, even a small thing like Joy? The time has come for those well-worn phrases to be retrieved from that slot in the mind where seasonal sentiments lie in wait.

Christmas Carols, mostly secular, fill the airwaves of big box stores that employ techniques to fill the hollow-eyed gazes of shoppers who seek but will never find anything which could ever satiate the emptiness of excess which seems bred to the bone in the vast majority of the cart-pushing consumers I see strolling the aisles as if they were being led by the hand or by the nose, as it were.

The holidays of hypocrisy are upon us. Gold, frankincense and  myrrh, a lowly manger, and a shining star ­— all props in a story still being told, though against a Christmas backdrop of cold, corporate-staged control of the season for which Jesus is no longer the reason.

At any rate, it’s hoped that Halloween prepared you for the spooky Christmas scene that spawns a feeding frenzy at odds with what, to most, has become a Christmas myth.

To Peace on Earth, Good Will to All, Amen. Of course the lingering question is when. Not this year is the obvious answer. Corporate Christmas is the reality.

Try to enjoy it. Forget what I’ve said. Let sugar plum visions dance in your head. Let bright lights and tinsel color your day. It doesn’t really matter anyway. Jesus was born. He’s been dead a long time — crucified for love, which still is a crime.

I’ll try to ignore that intrusive fact and carry on with a little more tact. Ho-Ho-Ho! God bless us. Everyone shares the same planet beneath the same sun. May Santa Claus bring goodies to us all. That’s what its all about, I must recall.

Frank Torres
Cañoncito de Las Manuelitas