Advent is a season of awe and wonder. It is a time of waiting, not just for Jesus’ birth, but for the transformation of our lives and the world. Something is being born in us and we are waiting for its arrival. Continue reading →
The falling leaves drift by the window The autumn leaves of red and gold I see your lips, the summer kisses The sun-burned hands I used to hold Since you went away the days grow long And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song But I miss you most of all my darling When autumn leaves start to fall.
Autumn Leaves. Written in 1945. Music by Hungarian-French composer Joseph Kosma and lyrics by poet Jacques Prévert. The Hungarian title is “Hulló levelek” (Falling Leaves).
It is the new version of the Reagan moment. I remember what it was like in 1980. Our company let 50 people go that year, and the rest of us had to take some unpaid leave. Interest rates were double digits, while prices soared and wages stagnated. I remember counting out pennies – literally – to buy gasoline to get to work. It was hard to pay my bills.
It is mostly the younger folks, who aren’t yet in their peak earning years, who don’t own a home, who perhaps have young children to care for, who are impacted the most. It is those on fixed incomes with very little savings who suffer too.
I also remember standing in line to vote on November 4, 1980, with hope for a new beginning. I was 33 years old with a 12-year old daughter, and my widowed mother, living with me. I even remember what I wore: a gray and burgundy plaid skirt, and a gray tweed jacket, a 40’s-era broach pinned to my lapel.
I felt that my vote was important – and it was. Our hopes were fulfilled!
Reagan won the election in a landslide, with 489 Electoral College votes to Carter’s 49 and 50.7% of the popular vote to Carter’s 41.0%.
At a time when our enemies believe we are a nation at war with itself, angry with our neighbors, split by partisan divide, burdened by economic woes, and incapable of empathy, there comes a story this holiday season that reminds friend and foe alike who we are.
In a Canton, Michigan, plans for the annual holiday performance of The Nutcracker suddenly went off the boards when all the necessary props for the Plymouth-Canton Ballet Company went missing. Thousands of dollars of pieces required to stage the tradition were stolen – from the Christmas tree to the golden backdrop that serves to highlight the ballet’s characters.
It seemed as if the spirit of this holy holiday season had been carted off by thieves.
Stella's Place 