It's December 28, right smack in the middle of the Christmas to New Year's week in which, as Miranda's mother observed, one never knows what day it is. I know because I looked at my phone. It's Saturday, too. It doesn't feel like Saturday.
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We're in the car on our way back from our annual Christmas visit to Philadelphia. My mother turned 80 earlier this month so my siblings and I had a party for her. It was nice despite some very weird extended family vibes. The less said the better.
Some of my family are Trumpy Trumpsters. I avoided them, not because I'm afraid to argue but because I don't want to give them the satisfaction. They can enjoy their little victory celebrations among themselves. Nobody's going to be celebrating after January 20, and the Trumpiest of the Trump voters are probably the most screwed. They played themselves. A massive self-own.
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My sons and I went downtown on Thursday, the day after Christmas, to visit museums and eat lunch at the Elephant and Castle. It was a perfect Christmas vacation day, chilly and mild, silvery gray with little bits of sun breaking through here and there. The Capitol dome glowed, creamy and soft, just a few blocks down Pennsylvania Avenue. We could see the podium and stands under construction for Inauguration Day, and decided that we didn't need to see it at a closer distance. We've seen the pre-inauguration Capitol steps many times before and I'm sure it looks the same as it always does.
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We arrived home at about 3. Or maybe it was 2 or 4. It was still light out, though damp and gloomy. The house seemed gloomy, too. My husband had turned the heat all the way down before we left, so it was cold; and with all of our bags and totes and the leftover food we brought home from the party, it seemed messy and cluttered, too. I was so tired that I wanted to just lie down for a while but then I’d have awakened to a dark and messy house. So I got to work. I unpacked my bags, and ordered the rest of my family to unpack their bags. I started the laundry and put the food away and wiped down the already clean kitchen countertops. I swept the mudroom that we’d just tracked through, and vacuumed the floors, especially the floor around the Christmas tree. I dusted. Within an hour, the house had warmed up and the lights on the tree twinkled and everything was cozy and pretty clean and neat. The remaining Christmas clutter looked picturesque and festive. When we first arrived home, I’d started to think that I was tired of Christmas - done with the holidays. But then I regrouped and my holiday spirit returned and I was ready to go through with our evening plan to visit our friends and their new grandson. An hour makes all the difference. And there’s nothing better than a baby.
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Sunday was also a gloomy day, but unexpectedly warm. I had lots of plans for Sunday but plans change. After some early errands, I framed two new prints that my sisters gave me for Christmas. I wrote about whatever, and I took a walk and then looked at my phone and saw that President Carter had died. I turned on the TV and planted myself on the couch and remained there on and off for most of the rest of the day.
I knew this was coming, of course. He was 100, and in poor health. But I'm still very sad. Jimmy Carter was my President. I remember the Nixon presidency very well but Jimmy Carter was the first Democratic president that I remember, and the first President that I really admired.
I was in 6th grade in 1976, and was proud to vote for Governor Carter in our class's mock election (Carter won) and even prouder when he won the real election a few days later. I watched the Camp David signings live in my eighth grade classroom, on a TV that my teacher, Sister Bernice, had borrowed from the convent. I was home sick with the flu when two years later, President Carter sat in the limousine with President-elect Reagan on Inauguration Day, as TV news coverage alternated between the inauguration and the release of the hostages in Iran. At 15, I thought everyone older than 25 looked terribly old but even I could see the difference between 1977 Carter looking old like all adults and 1981 Carter looking old like a person who has been through some things. I would never have guessed how much longer he would have lived and how much he would have accomplished during those four decades. He was a truly great man.
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It’s December 31, 2024. For the last few years, I’ve spent the last day of December making jokes about how the year that’s coming to an end should not let the door hit it in the ass on its way out, but I’m older and wiser now. I’m not going to insult 2024 just to encourage 2025 to do its worst because I’m already expecting the proverbial shit show and I’m not asking for more. I’m going to focus on the positive right now. It’s another beautiful day and we’re going to the Capitals game. We’re invited to a nice party tonight and although I’d be just as happy (happier) home in my pajamas, we’ll have a good time. My son has to go back to school on Thursday, but swim season picks up again next week, and we have already planned our swim meet road trips for January and February. The government didn’t shut down so I still have a steady paycheck. Everyone is healthy. Everyone is fine. That’s all I’m going to ask for, for now. Happy New Year.
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