The Ghosts of Christmas

Being partly of English lineage, Christmas, for me, has always been about the roast beef (not Turkey), plum pudding

and mince pies (not apple) and a good Charles Dickens ghost story (not Frosty and Rudolph). Of course this all played out in my imagination as a child, because I had no control over the Christmas experience. I was determined to have it my way when I was a "grown-up" but to no avail. Family demands dictated their tradition, not my imaginary one, so I had to be satisfied with the Dickens Village atop my fireplace hearth and my annual reading of "A Christmas Carol", the ghost story that for me, epitomized the true transformative powers of the Christmas Miracle.  Published 167 years ago today, "A Christmas Carol" has remained in print for all these years.

 There have been dozens of film versions of "A Christmas Carol" from Scrooge McDuck to Sir Patrick Stewart to a digitized Jim Carrey but I like the 1951 Alastair Sims version - maybe because it was the first one I saw.

I think he got the transformation from mean, contracted old Scrooge to a gleeful, childlike Christmas groupie the best of them all.

I've always wanted to write a Christmas ghost story, so I set to work and combined my English side with my Irish side and included a Banshee in the mix. 

"Miracle on Massachusetts Avenue", a tale about a little depression era girl who gets a very special Christmas present from beyond is my contribution to the genre of Christmas ghost story and has been published this month in Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show, a magazine of speculative fiction that's well worth a look.

http://www.intergalacticmedicineshow.com/

So hop in bed tonight with your laptop or iPad and head on over to the "Show"for a couple of good Christmas stories, the other one, "Wise Men" by the award winning Sci-Fi and Fantasy writer Orson Scott Card (author of "Ender's War" and his latest - "Pathfinder") and have a very magical Christmas on us.

I Love Iceland

Maybe it's because in a past life, I was a marauding Viking, stealing lovely Celtic lasses from Ireland to bring to my new home with Leif Erikson and the guys, or maybe because I was a Bjork fan even before the "Swan Dress".

                                                                 Because I love Iceland.

I mean even the name is cool. Why do I find it so intriguing and magical?

It's got "Geyser", which means...you guessed it, geyser. I'm assuming this is the original one.

It's also got waterfalls to rival Niagara.

You can walk right up to the edge of Gullfoss and contemplate either the immense power of fast running  water or suicide. Sigridur Tomasdottir, who I call the first green peace protester of Iceland, did just that near the turn of the century and managed to stave off energy developers who were trying not to look bad by causing a young girl to fling herself to her death under the immense power of fast running water.

Then there's the interesting architecture and Art and Music scenes. Here's a church that looks like a  Buck Rogers space ship made out of buttercream frosting. 

They start partying in Reykjavik at about eleven PM and go through the night dancing, drinking and looking for elves, as the drinking continues into the wee hours of the morning. This is probably because beer was banned in Iceland until 1989 and they're trying to make up for centuries of being sober on the weekends.

Yes, I've been there and would jump at the chance to go back. I didn't get to see the Northern Lights, (Bucket List territory), or the Puffins. And the rotten shark dish the Icelanders hold so dear, and who wouldn't, was unavailable that week to the great relief of my digestive system.

But any country that has the most egalitarian government in the world, with a female President whose cabinet is fifty percent women and a new Constitution being drafted by an assembly made up of about thirty delegates from a pool of ordinary people from truck drivers to computer geeks has my vote.

So here's to Iceland - volcanoes, glaciers, people who sound like Latka from "Taxi", a restaurant that looks like a giant, overturned glass colander atop 4 humongous water towers and all!

 So save some hakari (that'd be the shark) for me and make sure the Northern Lights are turned on. I'll be back someday soon.

The Birds

    So I'm walking down the road and I'm wondering where the birds are. You see, every November, hundreds of some kind of black starling always make a pit stop in my back yard on their yearly migration to the South. They haven't come this year. I'm longing to see them.
    The next day, I trip and break my ankle. This is bummer central for me. Mobility is my thing, man. I'm nursing my wounds and wondering what positive thing I can concentrate on to pull my sorry ass self pity as far away from me as possible.
    I hobble outside on crutches and send a prayer up to whomever, to send me a sign, some hope, a diversion...
    I hear some twitters, some crackling sounds that get increasingly louder along with the beats of my heart.

    Hundreds of black silhouettes cover the sky, swooping and turning in beautifully choreographed precision. My birds are back and my heart becomes lighter for a few joyful moments - enough to last until my next prayer.