Here we go again. Yet another season of “holiday” cheer is here, only from a distance this year, alas. Yours truly is probably the last person anyone would call a Scrooge, but for the record, I do not exchange “holiday” gifts, I do not decorate a “holiday” tree, nor do I prepare a “holiday” dinner. Furthermore, I neither extend nor welcome “holiday” greetings, I do not send “holiday” cards, nor do I display “holiday” lights. No. I’m too old-fashioned and way too stubborn to kowtow to such politically correct labels, like Balboa Park’s so-called «December Nights,” for example?
Instead, I do intend to celebrate yet another “Merry Christmas!” Yes! Right-ee-o! A Merry Christmas. Imagine that. It’s easy.
Therefore, in the spirit of Christmastide (yes, it’s a word), I leave you with the final line from the timeless, beloved poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (1823) by Clement Clarke Moore, who wrote, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
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