The magic of the holiday season, the Christmas season, so to speak, has been absent from my life for quite some time. I'm not talking about the thrill of gift-giving or receiving ... I'm speaking of the mystery that captured my attention as a child. It was more than the excitement of a fat man eating our Ritz crackers after dropping off a load of gifts ... it was knowing that I was simply worthy of a visit from the fat man ... It was then a feeling that I was worthy of acknowledgement, simply for being me... warts and all. A fat kid with an infant's mind who dreamed of being an astronaut. Santa was going to bring to me through a material gift the underlying gift of acceptance. Santa didn't know me personally, but he knew I wasn't a bully, serial killer or cat juggler. Despite all of my misgivings, Santa determined that I was worthy of acceptance and as such, worthy of a visit ... and an Etch-a-Sketch.
Fast forward quite a few years. Here I am, a man who no longer anticipates a visit by the fat man ... a man who no longer feels worthy of a visit from paunchy St. Nick. But here's the thing, St. Nick is a sneaky ol' bugger ...
Why? Ask me again.. Why? ... Pssst.... lemme whisper this to ya... put on your bi-focals and thinkin' caps ... clear your mind and ponder this revelation ... Santa, ol' St. Nick, he is a master of surprise. You think you're gonna get that new Blu-Ray 3D player and 'Avatar' special edition disc and *BAM*! you're hit square in the face with more than animated aliens.
You have no idea what I'm referring to ... that's ok ... tuck this idea into a nook or cranny in your mind, wrap a gift or two and come back ... I'll wait ....
...... fa la la la la ... hmmmmm... chestnuts ..... kiss my mistletoe ... hmmm, hmmmm... la la la la la ....
Are you back? Good for you ... Let me get personal. I grew up in a loving home and have amazing parents, an inspirational sister and memories of joyous Christmas mornings. Despite the losses I've suffered in the last few years, my kids, money, mind ... I still have these people. And Pam. I also have the gift of unconditional love and acceptance ... how do you wrap that shit in a box with double-sided tape?
Get to the point, you bastard ... geez ...
There is a friend of mine that went in for a simple outpatient procedure recently ... yesterday. A gallbladder removal. No big deal, really. Except that this friend used to hate me and is my soulmate's best friend. Well, maybe 'hated' is a bit extreme ... but, I wasn't accepted. Not only did I have quite a few issues, I also had, and have, a penis. You see, this friend is a lesbian, like me. And now, she had a gallbladder-ectomy, like me.
To make a long story short, I consider her one of my best friends. And, I have a feeling that she would say that I'm 'Okay' ... we both want the best for a certain someone ...
But, I digress ... the gift of this season was given to me by a wonderful woman, loopy on morphine and Percoset, being wheeled to my waiting car after being discharged from the hospital ... a weak-kneed example of someone no different than myself. And, the images of the Christmas mysteries of my childhood flooded my mind as 'Carol of the Bells' played on the radio. I watched as this strong-willed, determined woman wobbled as she rose from the wheelchair. All of her vulnerabilities related to my own vulnerabilities. And, for a moment, we were one.
That, to me, is the meaning of life. Unfortunately, most only grasp that meaning once a year, and only for a brief moment. Weakness is universal. The need for acceptance is universal.
What did this teach me? A weak-kneed lesbian accepts me and I, a weak-minded man with creaky elbows appreciates that acceptance. We are all the same, just different.
Merry Christmakwanzukkah.
About 2 years ago I was diagnosed with gall stones. For months before this, I had severe pains in my chest area between my breasts
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