Letter from the Editor

Christmas is tradition. We eat certain foods, wear certain clothes, decorate our homes in certain ways, even spend our money according to ritual. So pervasive is the notion of holiday tradition it even dictates our television viewing.
How many families gather every year for the same Christmas movie? For many “It’s a Wonderful Life” is an irreplaceable choice — the story of a man who finally learns the worth of his self-sacrifice. “Miracle on 34th Street” — another favorite — recalls the miracles around us. When I first saw the trailers for “Elf,” I thought, “Here’s a stinker.” Instead, it’s a charmer. Of course, “A Christmas Story,” about Ralphie and his overpowering desire for a Red Ryder BB Gun, is a nostalgia fest for grownups and silly enough for kids. It was filmed in my hometown, Cleveland, which ups the nostalgia ante for me.
But let me make a plea for a holiday movie adults might watch without the kids — and no, I don’t mean that execrable “Bad Santa” either. I mean “A Christmas Carol,” the Charles Dickens tale. My favorite version is the 1951 classic with Alastair Sim, but pick your own favorite version and watch it when the kids are in bed. The story bores them, as it should. What self-respecting child identifies with a man who hates Christmas? What child needs to confront his mortality? I’m puzzled by cartoon versions of this story starring Mickey Mouse, Mr. McGoo, and — heaven help us — Barbie. Cute-it up all you want, kids will never like it.
I can’t recall how old I was when the words of Marley’s ghost first struck home. He appears weighed down by iron fetters on that haunted night, the first specter of Scrooge’s crisis. “I wear the chain I forged in life,” he tells his former business partner. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it, what chains you already drag.
I thought of Marley, believe it or not, when I read Mary Belk’s wonderful story of Lee County’s Hostest with the Mostest, Lee Cannon. Here is a woman who’s forged chains of love and friendship, who waltzes fettered by warmth and hospitality. Hers is a daisy chain, a string of party balloons, a pearl necklace of floury imprints from a busy day in the kitchen. She’s festooned with the chains forged in life, and they lift her and all around her a little higher. What Marley doesn’t tell Scrooge is that we take up our chains long before we lie down for the last time. We’re carrying them now.
May we all forge chains of such beauty and warmth and elegance as Lee Cannon’s. That is my holiday wish for you, and my resolution for the New Year.
Which reminds me: You’ll see this is a double issue, bringing you both December and January. We’re a bimonthly publication now.
Merry Christmas. Happy Chanukah. Greetings for Kwanzaa. And Happy New Year.
See you in February.