Blogs » Fortiter in re, Suaviter in Modo » "Merry Christmas, Victoria."


Merry Christmas! That’s right, I said it. CHRISTMAS! Not Solstice, though it just so happens that the Winter solstice just took place and I am certainly not opposed to celebrating another trip around BOB (Big Orange Ball aka THE SUN). To me though, it’s Christmas even if it was moved from its original date by Constantine and the Counsel of Nicaea.

I went for my Christmas lap around downtown a few days ago. I was that heavy set guy in the long sleeve blue shirt and black shorts stopping frequently looking for motivation along the wet sidewalk. Typical beautiful jog downtown starting at North Street turning left on Main nodding to the Temple, nodding to the First English Lutheran (where I grew up spiritually), passing the Welders and the law offices, then it hits me…

Human feces on the side walk…

He sighed as he passed the pile of forgotten lunch, “I weep for the species.”

Continuing passed Bianchi’s, checking the Long Leaf for Hours of operation; a nod to the Deli that’s sign is half missing so I won’t be attempting a spelling from the chair I’m in right now and then a turn back towards the house down Juan Linn.

Wait! Where am I? Juan Linn, time to turn off the stigma from high school and head back into the neighborhood; passed the beautiful B and Bs on Depot Street, back to North Street via the old VMW buildings and on home to Grandmother’s house I go.

Today I sit in the Long Leaf trying to work amongst the cackle of mothers, daughters and sisters enjoying the Holidays; time to get Warm Springs and work where the Bro is working and alleviate these distractions.
The Bro is doing well, making progress everyday under the care of the staff at Warm Springs. He is sitting up on his own, cussing on his own, cracking jokes and being the same ol’Pat that he was pre-accident. A little short term memory loss is evident but I think that will decrease as he strengthens as a hole. Your prayers have been much appreciated and know that I give thanks for them in mine.

“Merry Christmas, Victoria,” leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.


It turns out; she’s not that kind of girl.