That song, “Christmas in Heaven”, is playing on my TV as “the Meaning of Life” draws to its finale. There’s a strange greenish gray vacuum in the air as our household comes to grip with inconceivable tragedy in Southeast Asia. Monty Python films are one place to go. Better than the bible. Its hard for anyone right now . . .but I’m am so terribly aware that its easier to be me than it is to be most other people. Thanksgiving is the holiday that makes the most sense. Christmas has long ago divorced itself from any importance other than state sanctioned family time. Global scale disaster in its wake really underscores this feeling. I hope we sort this out on a human level. Right now. No light from the sky is going to wash our pain away.
At least this tremendous loss was not precipitated by murderous fools dead set on the idea that God was backing them up in their quest to make everyone behave the way they think all people should behave. This is a variation on the news of the day. The earth is to blame. The most concrete entity. The media can only conjure arguments about who is helping most and who is helping in the right way. Body counts and extreme weather footage surpass ratings into an area where there is finally just too much to take in. Too many waves. Too many floating cars. Too many children with thousand-yard stares.