“Optimism is true moral courage.”

I’d planned a lighthearted post for today, but after the events at Sandy Hook Elementary in Connecticut Friday, I just can’t write about overflowing bookshelves or what I learned about my word of the year this year. Frankly, I don’t know what words would be appropriate at this time. All I can do is grieve for the families affected, and be thankful that my family is whole and healthy.

It doesn’t seem like enough. I want to do something, though what that might be I don’t know. Several suggestions are circulating on the internet, including sending cards to the school, wearing green and white (the school’s colors) in support and remembrance, or donating money in support of the victims’ families. This thoughtful blog post regarding mental health issues at Anarchist Soccer Mom is worth a read, also.

There are no words to adequately express the sorrow that we all feel. No matter what we do or don't do, we'll never be quite the same.

I realized a while back that there have been over 850 moons that have gone through their phases since I arrived on the earth, and I haven’t taken the time to look at nearly enough of them. Here Molly Fisk, a California poet, gives us one of those many moons that you and I may have failed to observe. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

Hunter's Moon

Early December, dusk, and the sky

slips down the rungs of its blue ladder

into indigo. A late-quarter moon hangs

in the air above the ridge like a broken plate

and shines on us all, on the new deputy

almost asleep in his four-by-four,

lulled by the crackling song of the dispatcher,

on the bartender, slowly wiping a glass

and racking it, one eye checking the game.

It shines down on the fox’s red and grey life,

as he stills, a shadow beside someone’s gate,

listening to winter. Its pale gaze caresses

the lovers, curled together under a quilt,

dreaming alone, and shines on the scattered

ashes of terrible fires, on the owl’s black flight,

on the whelks, on the murmuring kelp,

on the whale that washed up six weeks ago

at the base of the dunes, and it shines

on the backhoe that buried her.

Last year (I can admit it now) I was rather Scrooge-like in my participation in holiday events. I just did NOT enjoy the Christmas season, though I did try hard not to show that and spoil everyone else’s fun. I don’t want a repeat this year, so I’m putting some thought into what I really enjoy about the holidays, what I don’t enjoy (and am not going to do) and what makes me feel festive.

Here are 10 things, in no particular order, that I like to do that say “happy holiday season” to me:

Watch A Christmas Story. I can’t tell you why, but this is my all-time favorite Christmas movie, and I have to watch it at least once. I especially like to watch it while wrapping gifts.

Make molasses sugar cookies—for us and for special friends.

Put up a tree. I say this, because the year we went to New York for Christmas, we didn’t put the tree up and I missed having it all through the month of December.

Christmas in New York

Decorate the house. We live in Florida, but I still decorate like we live in a log cabin somewhere in the forest. Palm trees and sea shells don’t say “Christmas” the way fir and holly do.

Listen to Christmas music and, usually, buy one new Christmas CD for the collection. This year, I’m leaning towards Straight No Chaser’s Holiday Spirits. (What’s your favorite holiday CD?)

Spend a night or two with the TV off, the fireplace burning (weather permitting—this is Florida, after all), the candles lighted, and Christmas music playing. I find this so relaxing—an antidote to any holiday craziness that creeps in.

Put antlers on the dog and a Santa hat on the horse. Because I just have to.

Give thoughtful gifts. I truly enjoy trying to find the most creative and perfect-for-them gifts for my family and friends. We also try to give something to a local charitable organization for families in need.

Have one big family get-together, usually on Christmas day, where all the relatives who live locally come to our house to feast and make merry.

Last year my husband made Beef Wellington!

Watch the Rose Parade on TV on New Year’s Day. I lived in Pasadena, and both attended and worked at the Rose Parade several times. It makes me a little homesick, even though I haven’t lived in California for more than 20 years. The floats and the horses and the marching bands thrill me every time.