Hello from the Cold!

I've been thinking a lot about the spirit of Christmas, especially as we go full throttle into the remaining days before the big holiday. When we're still running from shop to shop for our hardest-to-shop-for relatives, scanning the epicurean websites for the perfect Beef Wellington recipe, and ogling the lights and festive decor with a childlike mirth.

I get caught up in the holiday blitz as much as anyone. It's at this time of year that I take "research" breaks during my work day to search for screwball Santa photos to share with Cold readers like yourselves. It's purely an altruistic exercise, of course, even if I do it while playing the soundtrack to "A Charlie Brown Christmas," and getting up every once in a while to do a Snoopy dance.

I lean in to the shameless manipulation of my emotions, as practiced by shameless commercial enterprises - I do. The more schmaltzy the display, the better, is my motto! I only draw the line at Christmas sweaters.

But occasionally, as I'm reading the paper, or scrolling though social media, I come upon a humbling reminder that the true spirit of the holiday isn't about how it makes me feel. It's about birth and renewal, giving to others, and leaving a legacy.

Maybe it seems a little maudlin to be thinking about death and how we want to be remembered at Christmastime. The very nature of endeavoring to leave a legacy implies we won't be around to bask in it one day. Right about now, you might be thinking, "Come on, Vic, get back to the kooky Santa photos!"

But in this year of Covid, mortality has felt closer than usual. I've had some stark reminders that not everyone who becomes gravely ill or dies is loved and mourned with the same energy and devotion as the woman in the above obituary.

Not everyone gets the weepy stories and the gushing toasts that continue for years after their deaths. The picture that gets pride of place on the mantel.

But deep in our hearts, even the grumpiest of us, with the most flagrant, bah-humbug postures hope to. We dream of being missed, cried over, reminisced about, and eulogized. We want to be remembered as having mattered. If not to humanity at large, then at least to the humans in our lives.

In that spirit, I have some suggestions for getting the Christmas spirit right this year. I've collected these from experience and tried every single one of them myself. I can say (okay, write) with complete confidence that even putting some of these directives into play has brought people closer to me. I suspect they're a solid first step toward rebuilding relationships we may have lost, too, although I don't have any personal data on that.

Regardless, these are sure to make you feel good, and that alone makes them worth a try. So, here goes:

Let's go out of our way.

Forgive.

Reach out to someone who is lonely.

Examine our own foibles.

Let's share dog pictures, make jokes, crack open those hard, big books we've been meaning to read, get off our phones, have long converstations, bake cookies, learn a new skill just for the sake of learning it, take a chance, say something that takes real courage, try to truly understand the other side of an argument, cuddle, romance our partners, resist the urge to tell the easy lie, and give ourselves the permission to rest.

Finally, if you do all of these things (or at least most of them), please reach out and tell me how it went.

Cold Podcast

This week on the Cold Podcast, I have a story for you that will not only renew your faith in humanity, but leave you agog. It's about a man, an art collection, and a simple transaction between two sons that might just heal the world. Please join us.

Larry's Music Box

If we're talking legacies this week, then I've got a Christmas carol for the ages. It's sung by Mel Torme, who also happen to write it (along with Robert Wells), and on a blistering day in July, no less. Mr. Torme said he wrote it to "stay cool by thinking cool," so it's perfect for the Cold. It's still the most performed Christmas song in the world and it's beautiful.

I wish you all the love in the world,

Victoria

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