Memorial Day

Memorial Day in the United States is celebrated on the last Monday in May.  To many this is a day to depict the unofficial start of summer.  They think of pools and beaches opening, backyard bar-b-ques and having an extra day off of work.  It is time, however, for people to have a rude awakening.  This is NOT what Memorial Day is all about.  Let’s go back and remember, lest someone makes sure we never forget.

Winston Churchill once said, “Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”  I have always liked this quote until I read an update but cannot recall who said it.  This has become my favorite quote; “Those who fail to learn history are doomed to repeat it.  Those who fail to learn history properly are just doomed.”  I will not get started on all the ways that we as American citizens have distorted history to suit our own desires.  That is not what this is about.  Here we will remember.

After the Civil War ended, Reunification Day was celebrated.  It was near this time that the country first enacted a day to remember and pay honor to all the Union soldiers who gave their lives in the war between the states.  At first this day was called Decoration Day having the first national observance May 30, 1868 and the graves of the fallen soldiers were decorated.  Later this was extended to include all US military personnel who died during WWI.  With each war the United States entered, the fallen during the war were to be included in the remembrance of Memorial Day (a term first used in 1882).

Years ago I wrote a song about how we gained our independence.  It was the blood, sweat and tears of so many who lived and died before us.  These are the ones we pay homage to on Memorial Day.  Had it not been for the brave men and women who put on a uniform and went to battle and died, we would not know this life we have today.  I say uniform, but it is a broad term, because during the Revolutionary war, most of the colonial soldiers just wore their every day clothes.

So often today people confuse Memorial Day with Veteran’s Day.  Veteran’s Day does not afford us the summery day off from work.  In fact, most companies do not observe it as a holiday at all.  No matter the observance,  it is still an official federal holiday set aside to honor ALL US veterans of ALL wars.  Those living and those gone on.  This weekend, we pay special tribute to those who have given their lives on the battlefield to make sure we have the freedoms we now take for granted.  In short, they all died just so we can eat grilled hamburgers.

I have been wanting to write a special poem for Memorial Day and to include not only US soldiers who have given their lives to defend this country, but I wanted to pay homage to the fallen in all countries who have bravely and proudly entered battle to defend their homeland.  After watching the PBS special National Memorial Day Concert I knew the direction I wanted to take.  I wanted to pull up the fight songs of each of the branches of the US military.  I stopped after reading the lyrics to the first song I pulled up – The Marine Corps Hymn.  The last stanza really struck me.  The last four lines in particular; “If the Army and the Navy, Ever look on Heaven’s scenes; They will find the streets are guarded, By United States Marines.”  I knew I had my poem for today.  I remembered watching yesterday as they showed scenes of the military burial sites around the world where fallen US soldiers lay in rest.  From all of this I wrote the following:

Gone On To Eternal Duty

Lost in a dream
of days gone by
Searching for answers
through heart’s eye

Up and down
neatly groomed rows
trimmed with flags
sprinkled with bows

The names and dates
all a blur to me
looking out across
a flag waving sea

Stepping sure, crossing
barriers of space and time
no more markers or flags
but, soldiers in line

Wearing uniforms
both new and old
they died for others
as history’s told

They entered battles
as men full grown
they fought hard, reaping
what others have sown

I study the faces
reason to find
they are all the same
it boggles my mind

Walking up one
then down two
in a distance I spy
an ocean of blue

Turning to see
the picture full
my heart is pricked
there’s a tug and a pull

From every nation
they stand as one
their tour long past
but yet just begun

These soldiers gone before
stand on land and on sea
they guard the world around
they guard you, they guard me.

May 31, 2010
© DL Bach

Love Is The Word

In this day and age, the world over people do not consider the words they speak.  As a writer I consider words all the time.  One thing I have come to realize was that people use various words even if they do not truly mean them.  A few words that I rarely use are family, friend and love.  More than a year ago, on writing.com, I created a poll called “What Is Love?”  I have received some very interesting reviews and comments regarding this poll.  I had not planned on writing using any of the material until I was satisfied with the number of votes cast and could allow the information to direct other polls to create in gathering my information and then dive into the place it took me.  A lot of comments were about the limited options (WDC only allows for nine options) and my coupling certain options.  Recently I reworked the poll and placed it here on my blogs sidebar.  I have added more options, including “Other” and unpaired some of the others.  I invite everyone to participate and pass the link on to others to allow optimal participation.

My poll on WDC was only open to members and I desired a more global allowance of participants.  It seems that writer’s have interesting thoughts concerning love.  The way I pose my question and the selection of options caused many to pause before replying.  On the surface the question seems quite simple.  Then you view the options and begin to question what you really think.  I can not recall exactly why I designed this poll, except that I wanted to write an article.  What my prompt was I do not know.  As I ponder this I am sure that I was brought to this poll due to my own thoughts about love.  I actually put my response in the options – “A word in the dictionary”.

The first nine years of my life all I knew of love was that it had to hurt.  If someone said “I love you” then they wanted to hurt you, physically and/or emotionally.  Then I found religion and thought I was heading in the right direction when it came to love.  Yes, there were still those in my life that would continue to hurt me, but I thought I had found a different kind of love.  Then I got sick with a chronic illness that has no known cause/no known cure and all of that seemed to vanish.

I love teddy bears.  I love to write.  I love to read.  I love, love, love mangoes.  I love music.  It has been more years than I can count since I have said “I love you” to anyone.  In Second Life, I do occasionally say “I love my SLamily”, but it is usually said a bit facetiously when the crew are acting all silly and goofy.  I have noticed that most folks use that line very rapidly.  In the beginning of romantic relationships it can be a bit explosive.  But those who know each other a long time or are related in any manner say it all the time.  They end telephone and IM conversations with it and even sign cards, letters and e-mails with it.  Sometimes I think it is out of habit or expectation.  It isn’t that I have no feelings for the person I am speaking with.  I just don’t like using such powerful words on a whim for one.  I also have such negative memories for those who have used those words with me and I do not want to use something for someone I care about with ugliness attached to it.

So, take the poll and give it some real consideration when you answer, “What is love?”  Then look at how it applies to you and your life in respect to those you care about.

Change Isn’t Always A Good Thing

You know you have gone off the deep end when you tell the employees at Hardee’s they are a bunch of plebeians.  You heard me right, I called them plebeians.  I went to the drive-thru before going west to check my mail and get a few parcels of groceries.  When I got to the window and received my bag, I checked it as I always do.  Biscuit with egg, cheese and tomato.  However, there were no napkins in the bag.  Usually they put ten napkins for each sandwich.  I waited for the girl to return to the window and asked for napkins and she replied, “We are all out of napkins.  They are being unloaded right now in the back.”  I looked at her in disbelief and handed the bag back to her and advised I could not eat that unless I had napkins.  She couldn’t seem to understand what napkins have to do with eating a greasy sandwich.  She snatched the bag wondering what to do and I asked if they were all plebeians and do not use napkins to wipe their hands and mouth when eating.  She took my bag and gave it to someone to return my money.  That person returned my bag with some paper-towels.  While I waited, I noticed the tables by the window just ahead of me had full napkin dispensers.  This roused me even more.  Why tell me they are completely out of napkins, when in fact they are not?  How much trouble is it to go into a virtually empty dinning area and taking some of the napkins for use in another area until supplies are unpacked?

I know you are wondering what this little tale has to do with the title of this post.  A lot.  Back in my grandmother’s day it was called “the change”.  The more accurate name is menopause.  A number of years ago, my best friend, Sissy (rest her soul) went through the change.  No one could live with her.  Her husband, daughter and even I avoided her most of the time.  Her mood swings were so bad that one time she even bragged to me about calling the secretary of her church a B****.  Sissy, like me,  never cussed.   This was strange for me to comprehend.  Those close to her finally figured out what was going on with her.  While we still avoided her a good deal, we tried to be more understanding.  This prompted me to have a bit of a conversation with my aunt.  I asked her (I am very naive) if she had been through the change yet.  After she stopped laughing she affirmed that she had.  I told her about Sissy and inquired as to the symptoms my aunt had.  She said all she had was hot flashes.

About a year or so ago I began noticing definite changes in my menses.  In the last few months I have noticed my demeanor changing.  I get upset and even angry faster.  I am still good at holding my tongue, excepting this morning.  I keep everything inside and don’t tell people what I truly feel.  I figured this change was due to Meniere’s and the way it has been treating me of late.  I also attributed my change to loneliness as I do not have interactions with people on a regular basis.  This mornings display gave me pause and I took the drive out west to try to consider what was going on with me.  Hot flashes and night sweats have been with me intermittently for a while now.

I once had someone describe menopause to me as one minute you have your head in the freezer and the next in the oven.  I thought she was joking.   Women are just now being overtly educated regarding this change.  When I was growing up it was still a bit of a taboo subject that everyone knew about, but did not speak of, especially in polite company.  Now it is all over the television, radio, movies and print media.  There are pills you can take to supposedly help lessen the severity of the symptoms of menopause.  More drugs.  Seems there is a pill for just about everything these days.  I am, as my GYN says, pre-menopausal.  I suppose things will get worse as I continue into the change.  Until I am safely on the other side of this, I will do all within my power to continue to hold my tongue and keep a fan nearby.  However, if, on the rare occasion, I slip and call you a plebeian, please try to be understanding and know that it is not how I honestly feel.  It will be the hormones going crazy within.

To Trust And Trust Not

What is trust?  Why do people trust?  Is trust a commodity to be bought and sold?  Or, perhaps, trust is a liability.  Where do I begin to answer my questions and try to figure out why one five letter word stifles me faster than any other, save love alone.

Random House begins their definition as such; “Reliance on the integrity, ability, etc. of a person or thing.”  But, doesn’t reliance mean trust?  OY!  The English language is confusing.  Maybe the part I have trouble with in this definition is “of a person…”  Roget didn’t even attempt to tackle the word trust.  They went from ‘truss’ straight to ‘trustee’.  Smart people they have working for them.

Trust is so overrated.  People use the word without really understanding it, like ‘love’.  They say “just trust me” or “you have to trust me”.  Why?  Every time I have put blind trust into another person, I alone have been hurt.  One should be able to trust the folks who gave them life.  Mine abused me physically and emotionally; and they allowed another parental figure to physically, emotionally and sexually abuse me.  Why trust?

I trusted my grandparents who had me most of my childhood.  They protected me until they wanted to make it permanent.  When they were denied this by my mother, they too gave me away.  They gave me back to the very person who wanted nothing more than to hurt me.  Why trust?

I trusted a man.  I gave him my heart and two years.  However, after a year and a half engagement, he decided to marry someone he knew for only two weeks, pretty much leaving me at the alter by sending me a letter one week and three days prior to our wedding.  Why trust?

I have trusted doctors who wrongly diagnose me and put me on medication that I do not need and which causes other more severe problems.  Doctors think they have all the answers and look at me as a troublemaker of sorts because I know more about me than they do.  Just be cause you have a degree is not a reason for me to trust you.

I used to trust myself.  But now Meniere’s is in play.  I never know if I am going to have a bout of vertigo or perhaps a drop attack.  I stagger along my way running into walls and furniture.  I can’t trust me or my body to do what I want them to do.   How can I trust me when I am laying sprawled out on the floor in pain from an illness that I cannot control nor vanquish.

Long ago, I would trust those who were, or at least seemed, different from my parents.  Until they proved I couldn’t trust them.  Now I trust no one.  I try to, but it just never comes.  I am finding more and more that there is a lot to be said for cynicism.  Maybe there is a future in it.  Or perhaps just a nice side venture till I can at least trust me once again.

So, why trust?  I still have not found any truly viable reason to trust flesh and bones.  When I have to rely on others, I suffer and always feel that it is not from goodness that they help me, it is for good old fashioned currency or some other form of repayment.

WHY TRUST?

Cynicism And Pain

Losing a loved one.  Losing your life as you know it.  Pain enters when there is loss.  To truly grieve means you allow yourself to feel exuberant amounts of pain.  In essence, you swing open the flood gates and pain, hurt and anguish spew in.

I don’t remember the last time I fully grieved.  Maybe it was in 1981 when Grandmaw died.  I remember the pain when I went through it and how stifling it was.  Now I remember Grandmaw and I am sad because I still miss her, however, the memories are sweet.

There are so many that I have lost since Grandmaw, but I don’t remember fully grieving.  I remember the pain at the loss, but when I try to go further in my memories there is anger – so I stop.  I stop and bury the feelings.  Yes, I know everyone has a right to their feelings and they should be expressed, but not me.

To be the good one, I always desired, but never was.  I have, through the years, learned to repress my feelings.  When I was angry, I was punished.  When I would cry because I was unhappy, I was punished.  When I would be happy, I was turned away.  When I would show love or affection, I would be hurt.  So the easy thing to do was to repress.  The English have it right – don’t display what you feel.  This I can do.

I am neither a masochist nor a sadist.  I have virtually no tolerance for pain, nor do I enjoy inflicting pain, especially on myself.  This is reason enough for me not to grieve.  If I start, I may not stop at this point.  And then again, there is no one there to catch me as I fall.  So I repress.

Recently I have discovered a new tool to add to my repertoire –cynicism.  Although I am new to this concept I am finding it to be just another useful mechanism to keep from dealing with the hurt, pain and anger that keeps coming my way.  When posed with the age old question “is the cup half full or half empty?” I would always respond half full!  Now I retorted, “It’s not my cup.  I don’t care.”

I can cry. I do cry — when I am alone. I scream -– when I am alone.  I yell and fuss — when I am alone.  To bring my anger against me means much frustration. To bring my anger against others could mean they retaliate and well… So I remain angry and frustrated while displaying to the world that all is well. It has to be.  Debbie is always fine.  Debbie needs no one.  Debbie will always be fine. At least that is what the world will always see.

Pain, I am resolved, will always be part of my life.  My deductions for now are that I am only meant for pain; be it physical or emotional.  So, for now at least, cynicism is a means to escape the pain, anger and drudge of life.

Will this to become my sole way of dealing with things?  Probably not. Will cynicism always be in my life?  Probably not.  However, for now it is useful.  Maybe someday someone will enter my life and I will be able to trust them enough to let them be there as I open the floodgates and feel the pain. For now, the cup it isn’t mine, find the owner yourself.

The Human Touch

Today, for the first time in more than a month I felt the human touch.  I actually initiated the first touch by extending my hand to bid farewell to a nice lady I was chatting with about my passions of history and writing.  we were both at the senior center waiting to speak with the tax people to have our taxes prepared.  My name was called and I prepared to stand and meet the preparer.  I found myself extending my hand to thank the lady for chatting with me.  It was kind of slow motion.  I remember pausing and wondering why I was doing this.  What would it be like to feel another human’s touch after all this time.  I know I have gone longer than a month.  I think the longest I have gone without feeling the touch of another human is close to three months.  As this lady’s hand slipped into mine, it felt odd and at the same time pleasant.

Growing up I dreaded the human touch.  The main touches I received were painful and wrong.  I guess when you get the wrong kind of touches and then the right kind and then have people not wanting to touch you at all, it can be quite confusing.  I withdrew my hand and as I was approaching my tax preparer Galar decided to growl a bit and the elderly gentleman grabbed my arm to steady me.  It felt odd again, but Galar’s growls were more intense than the gentleman’s hand holding my arm.  I got lost in the tax preparation process and didn’t give it much thought beyond until I left the center and slid into my car.  Most people don’t ponder the touch of others.  Being a writer is a solitary life.  Having a chronic illness brings about even more solitude.  Sometimes I  believe I should be used to this, but then I feel the pain of being so disconnected.

There are different kinds of touches.  Here I only look at the kinds appropriate for public viewing.  You have the intimate touch of a hug and kiss from a friend in greeting.  Then on the opposite end of the spectrum is the sterile touch as when my doctor examines my ears or someone reaches out to help steady me when I am off balance.  Then you have the middle ground, a handshake in greeting or farewell.  Usually I am only receiving the sterile touches and have gotten to where I don’t even feel it unless the doctor is performing a procedure.  Perhaps once a year I am lucky enough to receive the intimate touch as someone will feel the need to take pity and come visit me.  Those I have come to not expect at all in my life and when they do occur, I am usually so overwhelmed that I cry.  It is the touches in the middle that make me stop and wonder.  Enjoy those you care about and make sure they know how much by at the very least, embracing them when you see them.  Don’t let them form the idea that touching is wrong or has to hurt.

You Think It’s Funny?

I did not plan on this post today.  I have another put together that I was going to post, then something happened.  I didn’t get much sleep last night as my heart was broken.  I woke up this morning the way I went to sleep last night, my heart aching and tears in my eyes.  I went to Writer’s Circle last night and the theme was April Fools Day.  I don’t do April Fools Day and therefore I didn’t write anything for it.  I read a few of my old standards as a friend had come to hear me read (he wanted to see if I sound like Dolly Parton).  Then another writer who had to pop out early asked me to read her April Fools piece simply called Fool.  I read it through and found we both share a similar view of things and I happily read the poem.  Most of the “antics” at Muse Harbor were in the form of puns (mostly from the comical host) and fitting limericks.

Later last night I was taken back in my feelings to when I was a kid.  My pulse was racing and I was quite flustered.  I made it through the event and then somehow, I made it through the night.  When I finally got out of bed and turned on the news I heard another disturbing story.  It was reported, for the second time in a week, that a teen had committed suicide due to teasing and bullying.  Everything from the night before and from my youth came flooding back to me.  It seems we don’t usually hear about it in the news that a child has been tormented and teased unless they deal with it outwardly by taking a gun and shooting those who have terrorized them.  We tend to ignore or sweep under the rug those who can take no more of the teasing (even if it is said to be done in fun) and they take their own life.

Jokes and pranks should not hurt or harm.  Comedy is the same.  But it seems more and more (especially in the United States) that the only way to have a laugh is to cause pain to someone else.  I try to just roll with it when others find they need to disrespect me or do things they know I do not like.  I do this because all my life those who cause me pain follow my complaints with “you need to lighten up” or “we are just having fun and joking”.  In other words, the person being tormented is accused of causing the pain because the terrorists mean it as a joke only.  Double whammy.  How is it funny when you cause another human being to cry themselves to sleep?  How is it funny if the one you torment has finally had enough and returns with a gun to make the pain (you) go away?  How is it funny when the one being tormented has finally stepped over the edge and they take away your source of entertainment by eliminating themselves?

Jokes and having fun should not be at the expense of someone else and their feelings.  Let me repeat that.  Jokes and having fun should NEVER be at the expense of someone else and their feelings.  If you see what you presume to be a weakness in another person, it is your duty as a human being to help that person to strengthen it and build them up.  But instead, you find it funny to use that weakness against them.  Just because they don’t like your abuse and terrorizing ways does not make them less a person then you.  Try complimenting and treating others with respect, the same respect you demand for yourself.  No, I do not like April 1st.  Too many fools think they have free license to torment and terrorize other human beings and those human beings are supposed to accept it and like it because it is in the name of fun and April Fools Day.

Loneliness Can Kill

The other day I published a post called Regrets.  I was hurting and didn’t know where to go or what to do.   I was making plans though.  I knew who would get what and made a list of letters to write to try to provide understanding.  Believing I cause only pain and suffering to all those I touch, I isolated myself more from those I care about in an attempt to shield them from me.

My background in psychology gave me the insight to see what was going on, however, I still felt powerless to the forces within.  A few of my on-line friends cornered me in an attempt to learn what was going on.  I talked a bit.  Then the next day still feeling very overwhelmed I was cornered by another on-line friend who isn’t as close to my inner-circle, and using MSN voice chat she read me the riot act and we talked more candidly.  I cried so much there wasn’t one dry spot on my handkerchief.  I told her that I believed the real issue to be my 16 month unemployment and diminished bank account compounded by a chronic illness.

After my four hour conversation with this person I ended up in a chat with one from my inner-circle.  Mostly superficial on my part, but I told her that I promised not to even talk about booking a one-way flight to Iraq for myself.  I then received an e-mail from a new friend that an old friend has been trying to introduce me to for nearly a year.  I set it up and we began to chat in MSN and the mutual friend began IMing me in YIM at the same time my cousin IMd me in Skype.  I was too focused on keeping my conversations straight to even acknowledge the overwhelming feelings within.

I spent a couple hours with a handful of my inner-circle last night in Second Life.  I stayed up a wee past my bedtime last night pondering things and for the first time in days I didn’t cry myself to sleep.  I am still unemployed.  My bank account is still empty.  I still have a chronic illness and I am still alone.  I woke up this morning considering everything.  I remember the other day feeling so bad I went on line and typed something (I can’t recall now what I typed) into a Google search.  The result was a website linked to the suicide hot-line.  I sat there and looked at the site and scrolled through.  It kept saying that if you were in immanent danger to call the number.  Being too cowardice I knew I wasn’t in that kind of danger and there are others more in need so I just looked at the screen.  Finally, I closed the browser and played backgammon against my computer.

I am not one to wear my heart on my sleeve and don’t go around telling everyone how sad I am.  This post and the last are exceedingly difficult.  However, I feel it needs to be said as I am sure there are others out there like me who may need encouragement or just validation that they are not alone.  What occurred to me this morning was how wrong I was in what I deduced yesterday.  The things that I thought were causing my issues were the aggravaters.   My real problem is loneliness.  It has been weeks since I have felt the human touch.  No hugs, no kisses, not even a handshake or the unintentional brushing up against someone not watching where they are walking in the market.  There is no one here for me to talk to when I am having a bad day or get stressed out because my balance is off.

Yes, there are those that would say right now, “Well, you could call me”.  I have called people or IMd them on-line with the intent of talking to them but I end up sitting and listening to them go on about their issues or they give me the feeling that they are too busy to take time for me.  I oblige and listen or let them go so they could continue with what they were doing.  Then I go off by myself.

The suicide rate increases during the winter months.  Holiday time it is the absence of loved ones who have passed away.  The cold weather sends us indoors where we are locked away from the rest of the world and when you live alone, that can be devastating.  It is this separation from other people that can drive someone, even someone with intelligence and education, to consider ridding the world of their life.

I have not just been considering my own situation, I have been trying to see the other side as well.  I am an isolationist, I try to cope by shutting myself off from everyone as I feel they do not need to be bothered with my issues.  I know this is wrong, but it is all I know.  So what should the ones who care about you do?  How can they know when you aren’t one to broadcast (how I envy those people who can make things known)?  A lot of times people get so busy with their own lives and their inner-circle that they forget about others they know who may be lonely.  Those who know me, know I am unemployed and that I have a chronic illness that prevents me from doing a lot of things.  There are times that I would love to take a walk in the park and make mention of it, but there is no one there to go with me, so I can’t go.

If you know someone who is pretty much cut off, then give them a call or drop them an e-mail.  Stop by and not just because you are in the neighborhood.  It will make a big impact if you go out of your way because you want to see them.  Let them know you want to spend time with them just talking, not about their situation, but as a friend the way you have done many times in the past.  Offer to go for a walk with them.  Just reach out and touch someone don’t just think about them and later when you happen to see them or talk to them tell them you think about them and pray for them all the time.   Those are nice words, but they don’t help to heal the real problem ~ Loneliness.  You don’t need to ask them what you can do for them, they probably won’t tell you.   But just be a friend and give them the one thing they crave more than anything in the world, your time and you.

The Cost To Be Holy

It’s that time of year again.  The two months of the year that people around the world try to be as ‘holy’ as possible.  Yes, that’s right; the holiday season is upon us, again.  For at least the last two months retailers have been advertising how they can help you have the best holiday ever.  Claims of making your holiday cheaper or giving you more for your holiday pummel through our radios and televisions giving us pause to ponder where to go and what to do.

As a little girl, I remember watching the seasonal animated movie How The Grinch Stole Christmas.  This heart warming tale endeared me to the thought of what holidays should be about.  Even after the mean ogre came in and stole the presents, decorations and food, the Who’s were still able to come together with a song in their hearts and embrace the one thing that truly matters ~ each other.  It was this that moved Grinch to return everything and join the festivities.

Being a fan of Jimmy Stewart, I am well acquainted with his movie It’s A Wonderful Life.  Here a man who, believing he has just lost everything because he lost a large sum of money, wants to end his life.  In comes an angel to help hom realize that what matters most isn’t the material possessions and money we accumulate, it is actually friends and loved ones we hold dear.

years ago the holiday season began (in the US) with Thanksgiving Day.  The Thanksgiving Day parade ushered in Santa Clause and the start of the Christmas season.  The day after (aka Black Friday) would be the first day you could purchase specific Christmas items.  These days, Santa Clause comes to town during Columbus Day parades in October after retailers begin selling Christmas lights during the summer.

There is always a frenzy each year to sell more, to buy more.  Then by mid January the frenzy turns into an uproar beginning with complaints of how much was spent for the holidays.  The gifts, the food, the charitable donations; everything adds up to spending way too much.  o, why do it?  Every year I hear people say that you can’t have Christmas without ’stuff’.  I did some checking.

There are three main winter holidays ~ Chanuka, Christmas and Kwanzaa.  Chanukah has been celebrated for a few thousand years and is to celebrate the miracle of the oil lasting eight days when there was only enough for one day during the restoration of the Temple.  Gift giving did not enter this festival till modern times as the Jewish children were jealous of the presents the other children received for Christmas.

Christmas came about a lot later and was added into the celebration of winter solstice and yule.  This is when gifts were given to the gods to pay homage for the season.  Christians incorporated their ‘religious’ ideas into the celebration to be able to maintain honoring this holiday.  Over-indulgence came with the package.

Kwanzaa is the newest member of the winter holidays only being created in 1966.  this holiday was designed for gift giving.  However, the intent was for the person to make or create a specific gift for its recipient.

I am not knocking any of these holidays.  however, if the true intent or meaning of a special day is lost or forgotten or it brings about so much stress and strife, why continue?  From my studies of these holidays, including yule/winter solstice, I find no place where followers are encouraged to over-indulge, spend too much, neglect to pay bills and go further into debt.

Another aspect of this holy time that bothers me is charitable contributions.   I am not against giving to charities or helping those less fortunate.  What bothers me is that people seem to only feel the need to be charitable two months out of the year.  I also add that it is the last two months of the year.  this, in my opinion, is so they can claim it on the income taxes in April.  Needy people are needy 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days a year.

It is not my desire to keep folks from celebrating.  Nor do I want to sway you to celebrate certain holidays.  I firmly believe that ALL people should be remembered ALL year long and not just for two months.  If you are only going to remember someone at one time during the year and pay no regard for them the rest of the time, what kind of message does that send about you and your sincerity?  Holiness should not put you into debt and generosity should be your theme every day of the year.