Completely in the Dark

The last thing I want to write about at Christmas is Christmas.

So, damn you all to hell, Charles Dickens.

It’s impossible to write about “that Christian holiday” without sounding like Ebenezer Scrooge. Or worse, Jacob Marley.

Let me just say that when it came to Christmastime, I had a happy childhood. In Indiana, baby brother and I were showered with gifts from grandparents to godparents. My first memorable gift was a car dashboard that lit up and honked its horn. Was so excited I pissed in my jammies.

Years later, after we’d moved to Minnesota—and I’d had more than enough practice controlling my bodily functions—there was one special holiday season that I shared with my high school girlfriend, Kim, in December 1976. We shopped together, went to church, all very festive and cozy. We were all smiles that Christmas.

So, I know it’s the season of giving and all…