Another Christmas in the Trenches

It's Wednesday again and I have no idea what to blog about. I guess I could talk about annoying trends in publishing, bad behavior of authors or the importance of self-editing, but these posts will appear in 2011. I just don't have the energy to tackle them right now.

So let's talk about Christmas. In the face of expecting even more snow tonight (and in case anyone is wondering, I'm already sick of winter) my thoughts always turn to the world of Charles Dickens, Robert Frost and the Bronte sisters.

Life seemed to be much easier when these literary greats lived. Snow fell and blanketed the cities with white, temporarily covering up the grime and blocking out the ugliness that was their worlds.

While I'm sure the urgency to procure gifts for loved ones and friends existed back then, it wasn't at the frenetic pace of today. After all, who on our list really needs the piles of crap we're compelled to buy, wrap then see flung away in the face of other, more sought-after junk?

When will we return to the easy gentility of homemade gifts or simply enjoying the company of friends and family by dropping in for tea and a good meal?

That's the world I want to know. When lives weren't measured on the amount of material things a person possessed, the size of a house you lived in, how much money in the bank you had.

Where people passing in the streets or sidewalks actually said hello to each other instead of barreling past with scowls and foul words. Where decorations were tasteful and understated, not the garish displays that cut through the darkness of today.

What a novelty that would be!