This is always an odd time of year, with time suddenly hard to measure -- did it speed up or slow down? --, nostalgia in the air, and people on the move.
There is no time like Christmas in American culture.
In my neighborhood tonight, as I walked home after dark, I noticed for the first time since I started working at KQED, that there was abundant parking everywhere. Many residents are traveling and many people who work around here, including at KQED, are not coming to work these days.
So it is a different feeling in this place tonight. Much like during Burning Man, the local equivalent of Christmas.
There are lights in some of the windows around here, and trees in some houses. Not in mine; the kids and I just didn't get to it this year, which I regret. Too much homework, too many college applications and too many conflicts with their jobs, parties, and other commitments.
So my house remains undecorated. Maybe tomorrow, Christmas Eve, I'll make an effort to dress up the place a bit.
Time is running out, obviously, on the year. As I look back on it, it was a great year. I got my financial house in order. My kids are all fine.
But there were tragedies. My sweet middle daughter's marriage collapsed. I lost two sweet friends, Raul and Michael.
So as I mourn these losses and celebrate these successes, I wish everyone and anyone who reads these words a very merry Christmas! Who know whether we will have any more together, so let's enjoy this one, best that we can.
-30-
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