Holidays - What Does Not Kill You Makes You Stronger

Every year about this time I get to spend some quality time with Santa Claus, taking the official photographs of the Right Jolly Old Elf's encounters with terrified four-year-olds and their stressed-out mothers (who still have to get the kids to ballet class and hockey practice, plus figure out where to pick up a spiral sliced ham and something nice for their husband's secretary, but first they need to get a decent Santa shot for that way-past-deadline Family Newsletter).

Every picture I snap represents a micro-documentary dealing with hopes, dreams, fears, fantasy, avarice, redemption, and the human condition. That, and the effects of a leaky diaper on red velvet pants.

Ah, November in Michigan. The autumn leaves are all gone, and the ice is forming on the lake around the dock poles I was planning to get out of the water on the next nice day. Christmas decorations and the latest crop of toys have been torturing kids riding around in Costco shopping carts since Labor day. A light and festive dusting of snow is on the lawn mower.

It's Thanksgiving time!

One of the first signs of Thanksgiving is the annual Pardoning of the Turkey by various American heads of state. We all remember a few years ago when President Bush was repaid for his official act of mercy, live on national television, with an impromptu pecking by the pardoned poultry of the president's crotchical region.

There is something I get to do on the Fourth of July that is even more fun than all the Ballpark Franks that will be ritually sacrificed to charcoal flames in our nation's parks and beaches and backyards. More fun than the bottle rockets that will set fire to many of our nation's finest picnic table umbrellas and halter tops. Even more fun than all the beer that will anesthetize the sunburned bellies of our nation's countless middle-aged revelers.

For about an hour on the Fourth of July I get to "be" Woody Guthrie at our local library's "We The People" program. This is a celebration of some of the great patriots in American history, of the words and ideas they used to change the world forever. I get to sit with the likes of Thomas Jefferson, George Washington and Benjamin Franklin. I'll sing about riding my pony in the Oklahoma hills, and I'll sing about how this land was made for you and me.

Friday, June 20 was the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year. To farmers, this represents the midpoint of the growing season, half way between planting and the harvest. To Catholics it means that the solemn Feast of Saint John The Baptist is just a few days away.

And of course, for all you druids out there, it's Party Time!

 This year more than 28,000 people showed up at Stonehenge to stand watch until 4:48 AM, when the first rays of the morning sun would emerge in perfect alignment with the giant stone astronomical "computer," as they have on the sacred site for nearly 6,000 years. Of course, this "first rays of the sun" thing was purely theoretical, since the last cloudless morning in England is rumored to have occurred in 1089 AD, during the reign of William II (also known as Rufus the Red).

I don't know about you, but as this year draws to its choking, sputtering conclusion, I am getting just a little bit tired of all the "retrospectives" that are clogging up the media. We've read about best and worst movies of 2007. We've read about the best and worst people, the best and worst moments, the best and worst books, and the best and worst songs. I even saw an article about the Ten Best and Worst News Articles of the year - it came in at number seven on the Worst list.

I prefer to look ahead, to peer into my unfailingly accurate crystal ball and predict the future. Unfortunately, since I recently traded the crystal ball for a harmonica, I'll just have to wing it. So here it is, my 2008 Year in Preview.

January, 2008 - CNN commentator Lou Dobbs announces a breakthrough in the combined fields of recycling and immigration reform. He asks all Americans to collect their holiday fruit cakes and, instead of saving them to re-gift next year, to send them to the U.S. Border Patrol where they will be used to build a Wall that will keep Mexicans from crossing our borders and taking our jobs. After the plan is implemented, it turns out that Mexicans love fruit cake. The Wall is gone within a few hours, and Dobbs' head explodes.