Years always draw to a close for me in a similar personal fashion. Like many, it's a time for personal spring cleaning: dusting off the old identity, cleaning out the mental closet, wiping off the counters of my soul, and all sorts of other mixed metaphors that quickly ensue.
The hustle and bustle of the holidays always overpowers such efforts toward taking stock. Since I was a kid, there was always a part of me that felt that December was a wasted month. Better put, it didn't really exist. Everything quickly becomes the year-end wrap up, as if the year's eulogy is offered prematurely. Does life really cease? Sometimes parties overtake general workplace agendas. Everything seems to take a backseat.
So, befitting one who enjoys eating his cake and complaining about the frosting, the holiday season moved a foot forward this past weekend as I took in a holiday-themed matinee and the holiday tunes eased themselves back into the music library blend on the computer (one such tune found itself awkwardly placed between some country song and Rage Against the Machine).
The matinee was a stage performance of "Bell Book and Candle". The film version starring James Stewart, Kim Novak, and Jack Lemmon was one of the first five movies I ever saw. The movie always had a special place in my heart, and it was in pretty regular circulation when I was growing up, along side the original "Miracle on 34th Street", some artificially colorized version of "A Christmas Carol", and "It's a Wonderful Life". For some reason my mom would always call it "It's a Good Life", lacking any irony or cynicism. I'm sure that says something.
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