Well, in all honesty it was a good holiday. For me that means really quiet and uneventful. Rare is the day when I can read accumulated newspapers, listen to music, and not generally care about things. It's what's left of the old fashioned sabbath at its best.
Of course, lots of folks have an extended holiday - like my 10th grade son. I, on the other hand offered to do two weddings this week, thinking that it would be a slow week. Well, that's where my hubris got me. What was I thinking? A week before Christmas a elder member died and the widower wanted to see me. That was on the 26th. On Wednesday I did a private christening, which is is not a lot of work but not nothing either. Last Friday a marvelous retired minister here died unexpectedly and so I went to visit his widow today. This evening I did a wedding rehearsal. Tomorrow I do that wedding and the rehearsal for the second. Saturday I do the second wedding. And then, surprise, it's Sunday again.
Every seven days it comes. Damn.
Of course next week I have to officiate at the two memorials. And I am thankful the late president was not a former member here. Actually he did worship here now and then when he was younger. And he did speak here when a member of Congress. A shiver of dread spread through me at the news, but reason told me these plans have been in place for a while. I would have known by now.
I do plan to watch the cortege go by, maybe even pay my respects at the lying in repose. Not often that one can get a close look at such a notable moment. Our last day in the sun, here in GR. Then back into the murky middle that has been the world of most smaller cities in the nation.
Somewhere in the next two weeks I have to pay taxes and bills and endure what will be the real arrival of winter. I feel a little more sympathy for those folks who decamp to the south at this time. I love how winter looks. But each year the cold penetrates a bit further, the skin dries a bit more, the effort is a mite greater.
In the morning I look to see the time of sunrise and sunset. So far it is pretty much where it has been. But somewhere in the middle of the season I will see that the sun begins to shine before 8 a.m. That will be a good day.
My dear departed colleague, his memory is a blessing, was a son of Punxatawney PA, ground zero for Ground Hog's Day, the midpoint in winter. Perhaps he will bless us with a shadowless day in honor of his return there.
More later, for sure.