Yi Ge Ren

  The words are Mandarin and mean "alone," at least as described by author Elizabeth Lindsey Rogers in her story from The Missouri Review; she goes on to say: Yi is "one;" ge is a kind of counting word, placed beween a number and an object.  And ren means "person" or "people."  The expression "Are you yi ge ren? when translated literally is "Are you one person?"  In context, though, I began to understand this as a way of asking, "Are you on your own? Are you alone?"  I meant to throw this translated description into the last post but felt that it fit better here, for while many of us might feel alone at this time of year, many are also traveling solo to rendezvous with someone or others.  And even while with others, one can be alone in their thoughts, thoughts which might prove a mixture of both happy and perhaps a touch sad.  This period brings out a compressed slurry of emotions as we take the time to write or to call or to physically meet with those we choose...the timing of the season brings us to a threshold, a decision needs to be made.  My annual holiday letter went out with this sentiment, the feelings of my wife and I mixed and again trying to emphasize the wish for no presents, perhaps rebelling against the need to show affection by consuming (thus the word, consumer).  "We do appreciate the thought," I wrote, "but it'll only make us feel that much more guilty when we have to show our empty palms.  Honestly, we'd love your possible gift to head to those in need, of which there are plenty.  We have plenty and many of you are SO generous that we know you'll understand."

    There's nothing wrong with presents, a sentiment echoed in that song "How I Miss That Old Fashioned Christmas" by the Carpenters: It used to be that all the family would gather for this one night; It used to be that special feeling shared together; Children's eyes of sweet expectations wondering what each present will hold; Lying in their beds and impatient on long Christmas Eve's of old.  What child (and in many cases, adult) doesn't enjoy that surprise gift.?   But with the cold weather (in our area, anyway) and seeing so many without a warm home or room to run into, our feeling was that it seemed a bit disingenuous to expect a present when it could have been a jacket or coat for someone else.  And contrary to the secularized version of commercial opportunism, Santa Claus was not the creation of the Coca Cola company (even if they helped that image along) said the fact-checking site, Snopes.  But without trying to put a damper on things, our Western society does put quite a bit of value on consuming and buying at this time of year, the stores virtually skipping Thanksgiving by ridding themselves of Halloween candy as quickly as possible and putting up the glitter and glamour of the holidays.  And there's good reason...children get imprinted at an early age. 

   Malachy McCourt, now in his 80s, remembers his childhood.  His memories are especially vivid as he witnessed the passing of many of his brothers at an early age.  Says McCourt in his recent rather hilarious look-back book on his life, Death Need Not Be Fatal: If death is a mystery to adults, for a child it is impossible to understand.  As indiscriminating as it is merciless, death does not care how old you are.  Little children suffer through mourning just as much as adults do, and are just as aware of the irretrievable loss, but not why it happened.  So when religious relatives babble to a child that God needs more angels, or when they offer some other sort of the same horseshit, not only are they not helping ease the child's discomfort in dealing with death, they are making it worse by blurring the stark lines that death draws and confusing the child.  Thankfully, most children possess a reasonable amount of cynicism that allows them to scramble out from under the avalances of crap that spew from the mouths of idiots.  Wow, that Irish side of McCourt holds nothing back...until this: I must say, though, I began using the horseshit to my advantage by quietly nominating other kids on the lane to the play pals for the baby Jesus in heaven.  There was one bully on the block who I thought should be given a ticket to the clouds as soon as humanly or heavenly possible.  I got a whack on the side of the head from my grandma for suggesting it.

   At this time of year, what with all the lights and the various religions displaying their practices of faith and community, one can see both sides of the coin -- people impatient and people kind, people hoarding and people giving, people crying and people laughing.  I sometimes think that the Biblical phase to "turn the other cheek" simply means to have another viewpoint.  Part of my holiday letter asked: So okay, you're saying to yourself "what kind of holiday letter is this?"  And those of you reading this particular post might be asking the same question.  But after a rather long explanation of what's been going on and our funky moods and our time constraints, I also expressed our gratefulness and our sense of being so fortunate.  I added: ...isn't that what all this holiday stuff is about, to remind us that this isn't about us at all, but about those in need, and family, and friends.  One would think I was quietly humming that song about missing the old-fashioned Christmas complete with those joyous faces of children opening presents. 

   Happy holidays to all of you, whatever your faith, whatever your beliefs (or non-beliefs), whatever your gender or outlooks or leanings.  May we reach out to all living beings with an open and generous heart and renew our own efforts and hopes to help create a better and more understanding world.

National Geographic photo by Thomas P. Peschak