Closing out 2025

Every time we close a new year, it almost feels like finishing a book. Some books are so good you want to read them again, some time in the near future, or immediately. And some, you can’t bury them deep enough to never find them again, nor remember them ever. 

But either way, even if you’d revisit them, you’d do it knowing more, reading them with new eyes. Ending a year also feels like a new book is waiting for you on the shelf. A brand-new, 365 page book, just waiting to be cracked open and savored. Some pages will delight, and some will frighten. Just the same, you never know what you’re gonna get. 

I have been sitting on this blog for a month now, writing it in my head only, and I didn’t know (I still don’t know) what’ll be about ... 

In some respects, I feel like I have not accomplished that much this year, and in some others, I feel like it was the most transformational year of all of my half-a-century life.  If there was a theme for the year, I’d say, the themes were turmoil, strife, and rebirth, albeit a premie and fragile one. 

The way the year started, at least out there in the outside world, I was not sure we would make it to the end of it in one piece ... Struggle, war, total disregard for humanity kicked off the year and it persisted throughout. 

After a couple of months of frantically following the news only to read bleak story after bleak story and hopeless story after hopeless story, I decided to stop torturing myself. Dusting up my Communist childhood survival skills of self-preservation, I donned them with renewed strength and almost immediately got comfortable in them. It is unfortunate, but it is the only way I would have survived this year, when heroes were put down, and spit in the face, hunted, and killed, while oppressors are riding the high waves of fame, fortune, and rampant lawlessness. 

I realized that the loyalty we have to serve is not to the world, not to who’s in office, any office for that matter, not to the media, but to us. To our own lives. The key thing for our happiness is to take care of us, and our own. Start at home, like The Alchemist taught us. The world will be noisy - it always is. And history always repeats, despite our most ignorant efforts. But our lives are but once. So why waste them on what we can’t control? I know - all cliches and all platitudes, but I had to keep telling them to myself, to be able to survive in good health. And that is not an overstatement. 

If I would oversimplify the year, I would start  by separating the good from the bad, at the risk of being cheesy. 

The year started with the devastating fires in Los Angeles, here in the US, and so much war and torture everywhere else. The struggles, and authority oppression was only to come to our American cities throughout the year, too, sowing fear and rage amongst all of us, whether we were targets or not. Planes falling from the skies followed, social media and IT giants sold off to the new leadership, a lot more than usual, America starts striking places for what seems like petty, old reasons, throws its weight around in the world and threatens with imperialist expansion countries that didn’t see it coming; this was the year of several major infrastructure internet outages that paralyzed the world, more than I ever remember seeing in one short period of time; it was the year of more politically-motivated hate murders that occurred in the US and the year of the longest government shutdown in the US. Strikes in Canada and other places paralyzed the world. Dictators continued to steal elections, but some countries managed to overthrow some of these trials and came out victorious in the end, restoring or continuing their democratic tradition, like Romania did. A bright light ... 

This was the year where we had war on almost every continent - Ukraine’s war is still raging on in Europe, the Israel-Palestinian war passed its two-year mark in the Middle East, Burma, Thailand in Asia and what seems like the whole continent of Africa are also in unrest. And where there is no war, there is violence. In normally peaceful places like Australia. I have felt like the whole world is sitting on a powder keg, and the fire is getting closer with every year, it seems. With no hope for a peaceful force to be reckoned with in sight. Nothing but violence and display of hatred, negativity, and evil. 

On a personal level, we lost several people close to our hearts - friends, and pets (and yes, pets are people, too) - amongst which, a best friend in Florida that passed too soon of lung cancer, my nephews’ step grandpa who passed as doctors tried to repair an aorta tear; one of my nephews’ best friends, a little boy of 17 who died of a brain tumor. Cancer still sucks so much and continues to leave empty seats at the table and big holes in our hearts. 

A highschool mate passed suddenly, without warning to many of us, and when someone your age goes and they go young, it gives you an even bigger jolt than usual forcing you to contemplate your own life’s fragility. 

My mom has had a couple of brushes with hospital stays and her health continues to decline. But she is also around and we’re grateful for another year with her. It was another year of layoffs and fearing of losing healthcare, and other benefits. It was shaky and unstable but in the end, everything remained in place ... There is no guarantee for tomorrow, but then again, when is there? 

We were grateful to be included in the lives of the young ones in our family and it was such a gift to watch them grow, search for themselves, graduate high school, get accepted to better schools, learn how to drive, get jobs, open businesses and be successful, get significant others and learn life ... The promise of tomorrow because of them is the silver lining for dark times like these. 

The turmoil of the world affected us too, despite our best efforts to build a strong shield around us. The roller coaster of tariffs, and changes in laws never seems to be ending. One of my articles was censored for the first time, by, surprisingly, a Romanian magazine that deemed it “too anti-Trump”, alghough it marginally alluded to him - it was mostly about the current status of the American people, from my own point of view. A sign of the times. I am still grateful that at least for now, I can let these words reach the world ... 

I consider the fact that I finally renewed my Romanian (which is also now a European Union) passport, a personal accomplishment this year. It was way past due, and if nothing else, maybe it will be easier for me to help my family settle all we need to settle with our birth country when the time comes. When I got my US passport, it felt like the biggest accomplishment of my life; and this year, renewing my birth-given rightful passport gave me a similar if not slightly more elevated high. This is to show you that perspective and context is everything and nothing changes faster and more often than cultural and historical context and perspective. Stay alert, but stay present and always know what your best solution is, even if it might not be your most favorite one. 

Outside of the incredible number of hundreds of thousands  of innocent people lost to war this year, the world got a little darker because we lost some of its brightest of lights - Jimmy Carter, David Lynch, Diane Keaton, Robert Redford, Jane Goodall, Pope Francis, among so many of them. Ozzy Osborne and Rob Reiner also passed. And this is how the page turns on entertainment, and not only that. It might not be the same but who knows, maybe “different” would not be bad ... 

It was a year of several difficult deaths, with young people killed, and kids dying of starvation. Can you imagine: humanity being as old as it is, and we’re still dying of famine! The simplest necessity of all? How can we allow this to happen? In addition, this was a year when some people were brutally murdered and close to us people committed suicide. 

And yet, the year also brought so much hope and light, too. We were (still!) able to travel where we wanted, in peace, and relative safety. We went to live events with some of the people that bring openness and mindfulness to our lives - we went to a Jon Stewart live event in Richmond, VA, to a live talk with Neil deGrasse Tyson in Greensboro, NC and we met some of the stars of Twin Peaks in Virginia Beach, VA. 

The highlight of my year, the breathtaking moment of the year that marked my half-century of life was of course, the opportunity of immersing myself into the world of Londolozi, the South African conservation reserve famous for photography safaris and so, so much more goodness to the world. After reading the book Cathedral of the Wild in 2020 (after learning about it in 2017), I finally was fortunate enough to travel to South Africa to keep my promise and spend my 50th birthday in this magical place ... Boyd Varty, the author and the son of one of the owners, sent me a personal video message on the big day, as I was eating my breakfast on the deck of the Varty Camp where everything started, overlooking the greenery on the Sand River. It was a breathless moment. His mom came to have breakfast with us the morning before. I notice here and there that my memory might not be what it used to be, but I hope that God will never erase this memory from my brain. So fortunate. So lucky. So blessed. 

A common trend seems to be that people believe this was “the year for AI” - not sure yet whether we can speak of the “promise” or the “threat” of AI? Or, I suppose, a promise can have a good or a bad denouement? But all the strife and the goodness of the world, as far as I can tell, has still come from people. From humans doing human-ly things ... Or not doing them. From being way too human, perhaps, with all that is bad in that sense. 

Just like a book, or just like life, this year has seen the good, the bad and the ugly of humanity and the world. We take the scars and the joys forward and move on through the years, if we’re lucky. 

I am adding some pictures that will complete this year’s memory of what will stay with me forever. 

The one thing I do know for sure: what I felt in the African veld, listening to the ring-neck dove cooing, watching the impalas graze, ever watchful of the many dangers around them, the millions of years of wisdom imparted with me through a leopard’s stare right into the core of my being as she was lovingly guarding her cub peacefully asleep, the wind in my hair as Jerry, our ranger, was throwing the landy from ditch to ditch on the dirt roads cutting through Londolozi, or driving through crocodile-filled waters, the openness, kindness, love, and respect of the Shangan people, the selflessness of their sharing their culture with us, what they all made me learn about the world and about myself in those short four days at Londolozi - THAT will remain with me forever from this year, as its most lasting stamp. 

A dear author says “grace bats last” and many, many wise thinkers assure us that peace and kindness always win, in the end. Sometimes, I am exhausted from waiting, and hoping, and praying, and voting right, and being an example for good. But it’s the only way forward. Everything this year has shown me and taught me only deepened and strengthened this belief ... 

Good hope and a good year to all for 2026! 

One of the meaningful milestone trips this year, was revisiting Robert Redford's hideaway piece of heaven - Sundance, in Utah. This is one of the timeless spots that we hope will remain untouched ...

It's tough to find Montreal in a picture-perfect season. But June seemed to be like hitting the jackpot! The beauty and serenity of the Botanical Gardens never disappoints.

Dinner in a library. Almost. The former library at the Jefferson Hotel in Richmond, VA is now a very nice restaurant. Beautiful preservation of the place.

The Ximungwe female leopard sharing with me her wordless wisdom. An unforgettable, as it was humble, moment.

Ray Wise, Dana Ashbrook, Kimmy Robertson, Harry Goaz from Twin Peaks in conversation with Sabrina Sutherland, the producer of Twin Peaks, The Return. Virginia Beach, VA.

The Palace of Culture towers over my home town of Iasi, Romania as it has all of my life. I think every time that I would find it changed and it stubbornly surprises me with the contrary.

Not sure what took us this long, but we finally hiked the trails of the ancient Uwharrie Forest (only an hour from our house) this fall. You can almost hear the centuries pass in its quietude.

In a year when humans all but disappointed us, we sought refuge more and more in nature. Here, we're chasing the herons and egrets of The Pinkney Wildlife Refuge, in Hilton Head Island, SC.

The impressive famous Industrial Detroit murals by Diego Rivera. Don't ever let anything dissuade you from having your own experience - Detroit abounds with art and history.

As we close the year, I remember the many sunsets we experienced in 2025. And just like sunsets - the dark will come, but it will always be followed by light, the next day. Learn from the dark, and always prepare for the light.

Here, a November sunset on Hilton Head Island, looking at Daufuskie Island, SC.

The Quiet Days of Christmas

Romanians know how to do it right. We celebrate three days for Easter and Christmas and about 6 of them for New Year’s. If it were up to us, we would spend 364 days in parties, drinking and carousing, and maybe one day in repentance. And no work at all. If it were up to us. 

I have now lived in America for 27 years, but in my heart, I celebrate every holiday with the same spirit I grew up celebrating. So, regardless of what the American tradition calls for, Christmas is 3 days in my world. And isn’t it better to be able to say that you get not one but three days of doing nothing?! 

I have always looked back to Christmases past when I have this “down time” and in some fashion I want to recreate, even if it’s just in my mind, the old days. Call it old-age melancholy, or missing those that are not around anymore, call it facing your mortality, whatever you want to call it, I have thought more about Christmases past, especially those we grew up in, my sister and I, than ever before this year. 

And our Christmases were so randomly different during my 23 years growing up in Romania, that there is so much remembrance to draw from. We were lucky (I felt lucky when other kids might have felt cursed) to spend Christmases with different families. My mom’s parents did Christmas one way, and my parents a different way, and our relatives in the mountains celebrated in such an essentially different way than us city people that it made you wonder if we were celebrating the same holiday at all. 

When we were little-little (think about before I went to school), we lived with mom’s parents. Grandma would take us to this park close to downtown to see the huge, 20+ ft wooden Santa put together by the city and surrounded by all sorts of kiddy rides. Nothing too dangerous because those machines would not be able to be erected just ad-hoc for a week or so around the holidays. They were small carousel-y type things. We were never allowed to be in the machines, as we could God forbid catch a cold. But it was good to walk in the cold of the evening (you had to go after nightfall, to see all the pretty lights glowing), and see all the people excited about their kids riding the rides, cheeks aflame with the winter chill. Then, we would go home and sometimes, would find our presents already under the tree, if this were Christmas Eve. In Romania we open the presents (and make the tree) on Christmas Eve. 

We would then sit down to have Christmas Eve dinner - a lesser affair than the Christmas Day meal the following day, but still loaded with plenty of delicious, traditional foods. On Christmas Day, the close family members who also included my parents at that time, would get together and eat. Outside us kids, I don’t remember gift exchanges between adults being a thing in my childhood at all. It was all about the food and being together under one roof. 

Christmas was a culmination of many weeks of work back then. For weeks before Christmas, all that people would talk about was where to get the best meat for sausages, the best flour for cozonac, the Romanian traditional holiday loaf, where to find the walnut for the loaf, where to buy a new table cloth or napkins. Back in Communist times, the stores were empty, and the main food groups (meat, flour, sugar, oil, even bread) were rationed, so people started stocking up early. That fever of preparedness was all part of “the season”, part of the tradition. 

Cooking for Christmas would start about a week before Christmas Eve, with grandma kneading and raising the dough for the cozonac. This was by far the most laborious affair of the event. She would make enough loaves to give to everyone in the family which always puzzled me because everyone I knew made their own. But she was ever so proud of hers. You can look this up - anyone who has ever attempted making this beast of a loaf would tell you that it is really hard to master and have it come out right. Whenever grandma failed (by her standards, because by mine, her cozonac was always the absolute best), she blamed the flour. Grandma would clear out a whole day to cook nothing but the cozonac. She would hardly feed us on cozonac day. We had to scramble up a meal on our own with leftovers we would find in the fridge, which was not much because the fridge had to be empty for the Christmas cooking to come. 

In the following days, she’d make all the other foods - the sarmale (cabbage and grape-leaf rolls), several kinds of roasted meats, appetizers of all sorts and of course, she would fry the pork sausages in the pan. One of the days before Christmas was also dedicated to a major house cleaning. That was the one day grandpa would ever get involved, because he had to take all the rugs out to shake them and “winterize” them, as grandma said - meaning rubbing them with fresh snow and ice to clean them out and give them a fresh look. This was back in the day when Romania actually did get white Decembers. Not anymore. 

On Christmas Day - we all got together, kids, parents and mom’s parents, to eat for most of the day. It was an all-day affair, we would get together at grandma’s house (where we  kids lived) and the parents would come from out of town (where they lived) in the morning. We’d set the table up and start the feast around 12 and eat on till the evening. My grandparents only had my parents to visit and then on the second and third day of Christmas my grandma would take us kids to see her sisters. Grandpa always stayed home. 

Later on, when I was in middle school now, we moved in with my parents who also had moved back in town. The rituals were very similar: dad was in charge of buying all the food and coming up with the drinks and also the presents. Again, I don’t remember much along the lines of an adult gift-giving tradition. Kids got presents but I can’t even remember if they were wrapped. 

I remember I was the first one in my family that came up with gifts for everyone for Christmas and I was in college and making my own money. I got one thing for each person and there was no such thing as gift wrap paper, so I wrapped the presents in newspaper. And there was no tape either, so you’d have to wrap them tight without it. But that was way later. 

My favorite part of my parents’ Christmas preparation was the sausage making night. This was about a week before Christmas, because you’d need time to leave the sausages hung outside in the cold air to dry them out before cooking them on Christmas. I always helped mom and dad, usually very late at night, after everyone else was in bed. After the parents had finished that day’s chores, they’d make the sausages: dad would grind up the meats and add the seasoning, mom would clean out the intestines for the casings, and I would help dad form the sausages - he used a manual-crank  meat grinder with the blade taken out to push the meat out into this funnel-shaped contraption that fitted the grinder and through which the intestines could be filled. My job was to twist the sausages at equal intervals, to make them all the same. It was a messy business and you smelled like pork fat and garlic for a week after that. But the best hand lotion I’ve ever used, too. Mom always wanted this to be the last chore of the day because it was so messy she had to spend several hours cleaning out the kitchen for the next day’s cooking. 

In the many days after this, both my parents spent hours on end in the kitchen cooking all sorts of goodies. While grandma’s cooking stuck to a few dishes that were traditional, my parents made a lot of “modern” dishes in addition to those passed on from their parents. Dad was the chef in charge of the menu list and the drinks and mom was the sous chef with us kids mostly helping and in charge of cleaning the house. We also made the tree every Christmas Eve. 

Dad and I both started Christmas prep the same way: with a list of what's on the menu. Here is the beginning of the last list he ever got to make (right) in early November 2022, as he was thinking ahead for the season. I can tell the signs of his stroke in his hand-writing. It is shaky. By the time he was done with it, closer to Christmas, it looked more like mine (left). Never-ending. 

But after the running around, preparations, cleaning, stocking up was over and Christmas Eve would ring midnight, an eerie, peaceful, almost ominous peace would envelop everything - the house, the world around us, everything ... It was time to enjoy everything we worked so hard for and let the miracle of the holiday leave us in wonder. 

Carolers came to the door on Christmas Eve and in the city, they would get money. 

Like everyone else, my parents also celebrated all three days of Christmas which were all mirror images of each other at different homes. On Christmas Eve we would have our first “preview” meal of Christmas. Then, on Christmas Day my mom’s mom and dad’s sister would come over and we’d all be together as a family. On the second day of Christmas, we’d go to dad’s parents’ house. My dad’s sister was sometimes there again too and we’d eat the same foods only cooked by dad’s mom. On the third day we would go to one of my aunt’s homes or to a friend of my parents’ house for a repeat of the same goodies. The get-togethers were always the same: a very elaborate sit-down brunch-lunch-dinner lasting most of the day, with many courses spread out over 5-7 hours. We sat around the table and talked about the events of the year, school, new jobs, other family members, and very rarely about politics. 

Back home, in-between the many feedings, my sister and I disappeared for hours into books. They were quiet and lazy days. Back then, most of the energy was spent figuring out where the next meal will come from and what it would be (the foods were always the same but we mixed them up during the three-day feasting season). Around Christmas, we had food for days, so no more need to cook; so, instead, we turned off and were couch potatoes. 

We had no fireplace, no yard, so we spent the time in our condos, being together, listening to stories, taking in teachings from those older than us ... It was the time to put on the brakes of a(n) (always) crazy, busy, insecure year and actually enjoy each other. 

It was Christmas in another dimension when we were much older (highschool and college for me) and we were old enough to go to the mountains by ourselves and live with our relatives there. Our mountain people have always had a family farm where everything you eat you grow, harvest and kill yourself. The oldest of their children, a boy, always went up the mountain and cut his own tree which is a totally different kind of tree than the one (still a natural one) that my family would buy in the city. The two don’t compare. They almost are not the same thing. We didn’t have lots of decorations in the mountains, like we did in the city, but I remember us putting pine cones and apples on the branches. 

They also killed their own pig - an event worthy of its own book. We helped with the “cleaning of the pig”, by singing off the hairs on the pig’s skin with the flame from a candle, and cutting it off the fat back with a super sharp knife, for fresh pork rinds which they would use to flavor all the foods at Christmas and beyond.

I remember how the whole Christmas pretty much revolved around this pig killing and prepping and making foods for Christmas (mostly smoked meats) from it. We ate every single thing from the animal, even the blood, and whatever we could not consume would go into the freezer for the rest of the year. The whole family was involved. The parents, the three kids, the grandparents, and my sister and I. Everything happened outside, in the yard, except for the actual cooking, in the mountain air which was always as cold as a mountain stream on ice. 

We spent most of the time during the day outside, in our winter coats, barely moving from too many layers, with the hands red and the skin chapped and bleeding from the wind burn and the coarse salts we used to prepare and cure the meat. 

Inside, the stove always had a roaring fire, ready for the mom, the grandma, and the daughter to start cooking some of the many dishes, all of them pork based. The dad and the boys were busy making the fire outside, in the smoker, where most of the cured meats would go for a couple of days. One of the two sons would take turns during the night to go out back and ensure the fire was not out in the smoker. 

The dishes we made were simple and not as numerous for the mountain Christmas - just some cozonac, sarmale, mamaliga (which is a type of Romanian polenta) and lots and lots of smoked meats - everything was fresh and so fatty! We would eat in the late morning for a couple of hours, on Christmas Day. Although we still had sit-down meals, they were not as lengthy as the ones in the city. In the mountains, you constantly had something to do, you could not linger about - mostly, many animals to feed, or wood to split for heating up every room and heating up the food. We did take naps sometimes, and when we were older we kids would go “in the village” to a club or someone’s house for a dance. 

On the second and third day of Christmas, my friends’ parents would load us all up in their SUV and we’d go deep in the woods, bracing the cold and the unplowed dirt roads to see my friend’s father’s family. They lived completely off the grid, in the middle of nowhere. One year, we got stuck in the snow on one of these roads, and one of the sons had to walk through the deep-deep snow to the next village several miles to ask for help. It took hours for a tow truck to appear (on the second day of Christmas when everyone is off!) and pull us from the snowy ditch. As we waited, it got dark and the sky was filled with stars. There was no light around us outside the moon. We started hearing wolves howling in the distance and just about wet ourselves! We had pictures in our head of how we’re going to surely die - either from frost bite, or eaten alive by wolves on the second day of Christmas! The stories are plenty and I hope to God they will make their way into a book one day, if not for anyone, they might be helpful or amusing for my nephews. They were good and real times. 

In addition to money, the mountain carolers got colaci (Romanian braided bagel-shaped pastries), apples and walnuts. To this day, there is no holiday for me if we don’t have some kind of fresh, hearty dough in the house, although I don’t bake myself. Everything was either home-made or hand-picked by all of us. The care, the attention, the ahead-of-time-ness made it so special for some much longer than just the one day. 

I truly believe this rushed, modern world we live in nowadays abbreviated the holiday to a one-day affair. The Christmas I remember and that I am stubborn enough to still celebrate deserves to be lingered upon ... 

If you've been paying attention, the one thing all of these traditions had in common was the food. When I came to America, everyone warned me about Thanksgiving having lots of foods. But to me, it was an embarrassment to call it “a lot of food”. Our feasts were, like a daily Thanksgiving times 3. And then multiply that by 3 days, not just one puny dinner! 

Today, when we don’t travel for Christmas, even if it’s just the two of us, I cook. A lot. I cook so much in fact, that I end up throwing some away at the end because it’s impossible to consume it, even in 3 days, being that it’s just the two of us for meals. Nowadays, I make some Romanian staples: sarmale, my husband makes the cozonac because I am not a baker, sausages, some sort of a ground meat product like meatballs or meatloaf, a couple of other appetizer dishes. Without these, I cannot say it’s Christmas. I also give a nod to my new adoptive country and I do incorporate some American foods, as well - like ham, mashed potatoes, something green (like collards or green beans) ... And we stock up on drinks! At my parents’ house, the drink of choice was wine during these times. Especially the one dad made himself, first on farms he worked on, then in his own house. In the mountains, the drinks revolved around moonshine - the cold asked for something to warm you up. If they had wine, it was always hot, boiled, with some sorts of herbs and woodsy berries in it.  

Nowadays, my husband and I do sit down for our Christmas meals (as opposed to eating in the living room on the couch)  during all the three days (because yes, we do celebrate three days of Christmas in my house), but we mostly graze ... We don’t have set hours for set meals, but we eat when we wake up and when we feel nibbly during the day. We open presents on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We talk to family online, because everyone is far away. We seldom get together with friends, because everyone is busy with their own families. 

Another thing that I relive this time of the year is the quiet around these days - just sitting around with absolutely no plans, other than letting your hard-labored-over goodies digest. It feels decadent and wasteful but so delicious, too! I know lots of people probably pity us for just “being alone” but I welcome it. Life is noisy. Worries abound. Work is busy. So much of life eats at our time, that this time of the year, staring down at days with no plans is a gift in itself.

Life, and especially our Western world, needs so much more quietness and reflection - and Christmas is a great excuse for this. We all become bears during this time of the year: gorge on food, then hibernate. 

Technology did help with the writing and the publishing of this piece, but outside of this, I am so glad we inject our lives with so much more human, touchable, organically real and un-messed with things - no AI and no apps needed to be in touch with your humanity and human-ness. 

These few days when we’re forced by the calendar to think differently are still so important to me, to pause, reflect, and enjoy the simple things that are never too far away: like feeling the raw meat of an animal that sacrificed for your nurturing  in your hands when you knead it into a meatloaf, like cleaning a raw shrimp, and spending many hours cleaning mushrooms under the cold running water, wondering what kind of muck those little hats had to push through to come to being, like waiting with bated breath for the oven to be done with its things only to be able to judge whether what comes of it is edible or just passable ... 

Around Christmas, I feel like I am consciously jumping off the mouse wheel and meaningfully taking a break. And my body feels better (albeit more sore and at times uncomfortably full, but decidedly more alive), and my mind thinks more clearly, and my thoughts are clearer and able to plan for what’s ahead - as far as we can see what is ahead. 

But the here and now, the proximity of each other and the real-ness of what’s on the table, the memories that I am still lucky to hold in my head quite vividly, this is what makes up the lazy days of Christmas for me and towards which my gratitude goes. 

Whether you celebrate the birth of Jesus, or the Rededication of the Sacred Temple, or renewal and rebirth, or ancestor remembrance, or just the end of a year ... I hope you take the time to reflect, turn inwards, find yourself truely, think back before you leap ahead. If you’re lucky like me, maybe you remember your childhood memories. And if you are really lucky, maybe you get to recreate them ... 

Happy Holidays, everyone! 

It’s About Gratitude. Not About the Crowd Size.

Speaking about Thanksgiving with folks this year, before the actual day, had one thing in common: everyone was planning for big parties! Not many were talking about dishes they'd make or drinks they wanted to try. But everyone made sure they started with "it's gonna be a good crowd." Everyone was getting together with their families, their friends, their friends’ friends and their neighbors’ friends.

One coworker said his family is so large, there will be 70 of them for Thanksgiving so his mom, the traditional hostess, had to rent a space at their church to accommodate everyone. I cannot imagine having this large a crowd for a yearly holiday meal. I had 10 people at my wedding and that included the two of us. 

I am not sure it’s by choice, maybe our lives chose this, not us - but we’ve mostly always spent Thanksgiving with just the two of us. There were exceptions but so few and far between that I cannot even remember when they happened. 

Don't get me wrong - I am a fan of big parties with lots of noise and lots of eating, drinking, and dancing ... I grew up on them! But for some reason, my own life took a different turn. And I have been able to enjoy the quiet of a one-person or a two-person celebration, too.

This made me think back at the three years in my life when I spent Thanksgiving alone. Just alone, if you're not counting the cats. And I never felt left out somehow. I have particularly enjoyed this holiday because it’s almost the only one that is really just about the food and nothing else. That and counting your blessings. And food is a blessing ... So many people don’t have the minimum of it to survive. 

Among other things, Christmas is also about the presents and the tree; Easter (my favorite) is about going to church and all the rituals; New Years is a drinking and music holiday. But Thanksgiving is just food. You can be a glutton and it’s OK, because you’re celebrating bounty. 

But if you’re alone this year and maybe feeling a little down, take it from me - you don’t need to ... As someone who has spent several Thanksgivings (and many other holidays too) alone, here’s a list of things you can enjoy and hope you can be grateful about: 

• You can cook your own comfort food, not whatever is mandated by tradition. Not a fan of stuffing or sweet potatoes? You want French fries instead? Do it! 
• There is no one to criticize your cooking. No one to tell you the turkey is too dry and the stuffing too wet ... 
• Don't count calories. Who cares you cannot zip up your pants? You’re alone. Wear sweats! 
• Watch as much tv as you want. No one to fight over the remote with. David Attenborough sounds more appealing than a football game? Do it ... 
• Nap to your heart’s content. 
• Take a walk in the middle of the day just because. Or don’t. You’re not offending anyone.  
• Repeat.
• If you did cook, enjoy leftovers for so many more days than when you would split them with many others.
• Drink a nightcap or 10. Who’s counting? 
• Even if you’re not in the mood to cook, make some cookies and make the house smell good
• Enjoy the time off from work.

Be grateful for all of this. For little things like fuzzy socks and non-stick cookware, and for the big things like the roof over your head, your car, and not lastly, your health, or at least your mobility if you have it. 

Focus on all of these things, and think about the bounty that is your life.. I wish we could all always appreciate what we do have rather than mourn what’s not there ... But the human monkey mind doesn’t work this way ... Maybe this could be a good reminder ...  

Billions of people on this planet don't have these luxuries. How lucky should you really feel that you have all or more things like these available to you? 

Of course we could and should be grateful every day. But I do like special days when important things are brought into focus and are not lost in the shuffle of every day. Like love, and gratitude, like life and the celebration of what has been achieved or the welcome celebration of a new page that is just getting started ... And Thanksgiving is one of these days ...

Life is short. Enjoy the little or the very much you already have! Your very little is someone else's jackpot or dream. Be grateful for everything you do have, for it is never forever ... 

Happy Thanksgiving!