12/19/2002

12/19/2002 - 0 2 early

In 1991 there was no angel for the top of the tree. The slushy New England winter, cars barely running and our meager earnings held store bought tree toppings out of reach. Aside from the prefunctory holiday stress, we let nothing dampen our spirits that year. Ah, bliss, to string 5 big garlic bulbs through a played out low E string. I slipped the looped string of garlic around the tree's spiney tip top, stood back, grabbed my girl, and pronounced it 'good'.

In 2002 there are angels everywhere. Life is lit up by the lights in the eyes of the saints. The best car ever got me to work today and I am the wealthiest man in the world. In an old tin, a quintet of blackened garlic bulbs hold tightly to an E string that played part of the soundtrack of my life.

I stood the Clark Griswold Tree up in our living room, the top bent under the ceiling, and put the garlic wreath around the summit. Stood back, grabbed my girl, and the goodness and rightness of it was evident by her smile and the warmth of the spirit.