Fast Away the Old Year Passes!

I am sick to death of Halloween for adults, done to death, with collateral overwhelming of little psyches.  The Gym I frequent has been draped in bats and skeletons and gravestones for weeks. On checking in yesterday I announced (per senior prerogative) that I was tired of it.  The  young man addressed looked surprised, then sympathetic.  Then he murmured something about it being over this week.  Hallelujah.
After the Gym and dropping off soup for the soup kitchen I went to a purveyor of seasonal decor, whose interior I circled twice, looking for a Thanksgiving wreath.  Again, my heart sank at the mandated expression of seasons – rows and rows of goofy scarecrows, wooden signs commanding ‘Be Grateful’, others announcing ‘Harvest Blessings’ — aisles and aisles of harvest schlock — and did I mention Christmas?– all lined up, waiting in inanimate splendor for agitated shoppers to pick through to find just the right ‘statement’ for their homes.  What a mood I seem to be in!  I left empty handed but with an idea.  Got home and removed a pepperberry wreath from the study wall, where it’s hung on a brass hook for probably 30 years.  I took it outside,  hosed off the dust, and put it on the front door, where it looks marvelous and good as new. Here’s a predawn picture of it. Hence the shadowy effect:
Reduce, reuse, recycle.  And still the schlock machine grinds on and the landfill mountains rise.
But my particular task is to communicate goodness not gloom.  I thank the Universe for opportunities. My brother emailed yesterday morning, asking if there’s room at the Thanksgiving table for his elder daughter!  She’s been overseas a long time.  So I emailed all the Thanksgiving invitees, saying, “As if November doesn’t hold joy enough – a new baby boy, a fourth anniversary, a fortieth anniversary, a 31st birthday, a 67th birthday – I’ve just learned that Rosemary will be joining us for Thanksgiving.
Our Rosie is over the ocean
Our Rosie is over the sea
Our Rosie is over the ocean
O bring back our Rosie to we.”
Keen eyes may have spotted the baby reference. Here’s a picture of the family said baby will soon be joining:
Goodness aplenty!

Author: Phoebe Dishman

Phoebe H. Dishman was born and raised in Beaumont, Texas. She is a wife, mother, and grandmother. An essayist and poet, she teaches adult Sunday school, compiles a monthly prayer calendar, edits the Big Thicket Association quarterly bulletin, and keeps a keen eye and ear open for birds.

One thought on “Fast Away the Old Year Passes!”

  1. I walked in to Hobby Lobby weeks ago looking for Fall decor… Christmas as far as I could see. It saddens me as Thanksgiving is such a beautiful holiday. Family, food, fellowship, gratitude. ..

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: