Wintertime is officially here. Some would have you believe it is a time of joy, of renewal and other some such. But do not be deceived, My Friends. For while "Big Winter" would have you believe it's the Hap Happiest Season of All, in truth it is a time to bundle up, hunker down, and pray the 89 days til Spring fly by as quickly as possible.
Visions of sugar plums might dance in your head, but my brain pan is a mosh pit of images of ice, slipping on ice, and cracking my head on ice after slipping on it. And by it, I mean ice.
Sure, in the heady days of youth you will find a Wonderland of fond recollections. A personal Christmas Carol, if you will. The Ghost of Christmas Past fills your head with heartwarming memories of building the perfect snowman, defending your snow fort from unseen marauders, or racing at top speed down a slippery hill on your sled.
Then the Specter shows your decline into Scroogedom with visions of driving home from Lexington on a cold Winter night with a busted heater core...walking to work from Orangeburg because the fluids in one's engine literally turned to slush...or travelling in arctic conditions to give a pass or fail presentation at school in front of the Professor - alone.
Move ahead a few years, where the Ghost of Christmas Present gives a more measured view of the cooler season. By which I mean how past actions lead to present predicaments. Seriously - slide your Bride's vehicle into the ditch on a snowy work day morning and she'll haunt you worse than any Dickensian spook.
Perhaps the Yuletide Phantasm will show your friends as they go skiing and ice skating in this weather ON PURPOSE! Not to mention the desire of children to cavort and frolic in what has got to be the most inhospitable climate on earth. Humbug!
Perhaps the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come will offer me hope. What? A parka, you say? Enjoy the climatological diversity our region presents, you suggest? Am I up for a snowball fight, you query?
Listen, you glorified bed sheet, how about I give YOU something to think about. What would be more enjoyable: freezing your linens off in the outdoors, or enjoying Mother Nature's bounty from the cozy comfort of a living room stocked with a 60-inch 4K TV, an endless supply of snacks, and the Wildcats game getting ready to tip off? You're welcome. I predict a “Chrisley Knows Best” marathon is in the future for the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.
I think I have found my true calling at last. By showing the Ghosts of Past, Present and Future the error of their ways, they are now prepared to share a new philosophy come this time of year: Winter is not our friend, Nature is not our ally, and the Outdoors are constantly trying to kill us.
With that cheery message in mind, I only have one more thing to say…Merry Christmas, everyone!