“Oh the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we’ve no place to go,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!”
Historical verse could’ve been sung if the audience was conscious of their voices and not their throats. But when ash decorated Pompeii and Stabiae it was hard to conceptualize a note that didn’t coincide with caterwauling. Researching volcanic ash has attributed to a recollection familiar with my experiences that of snow fall and Christmas. Something wistful placates nostalgic thought when rooftops are dusted with sparkling white blankets and when Christmas lights gleam through a fractured curtain of falling white specks. A blizzard is like a volcanic eruption minus the screams of terror and lava reducing homes to smoldering heaps of (supposed) private property; which brings to question the cliché “true” Capital T spirit of Christmas. If all that we give succumbs to trash and forgotten pomp how can it contain value at all? Granted stronger philosophers would decree the value is subjective to the receiver, but that must also be true of the giver. They expect a reaction of praise. Imagine that? People practice the value of humbleness by burdening others with their want for reciprocity. But if the gift isn’t appreciated should the thanking follow suit?
“It’s more about the gesture,” they say.
But where I think Christmas interweaves humbleness into society has to do more with building harmony through public relations than it does with profits and dolls. People are just generally nicer on Christmas day. Even the police are as tranquil as burning monks. Because for ONE day out of the year we deny the notion that the world works for us and remember that we work for the world. It’s like recollecting Mt. Vesuvius as a liberator and not a tyrant. After all, if sprinkling ash resembles falling snow then it’s up to the audience to perceive it as such, even as the world burns.