All is calm, all is bright.

Wednesday, December 24th, 1997

Hello from flood-stricken Atlanta, where all the creeks and storm drains filled this morning in response to some serious morning rain. Yes, it’s just another typical Christmas Eve in the South, where it doesn’t look like any of our Christmases will be white.

It’s past most people’s bedtime now, and in our house, Sammy‘s parents are asleep and Sam’s upstairs reading Nero Wolfe and waiting for me to finish updating my darn page. And yes, I’m doing it to keep up with my "brother" and "sister", who have Christmas Eve editions of this continuing experiment in web-samizdat.

So here we are, in the waning days of 1997, and in the waning hours of Christmas Eve, and I sit here generally content, wondering, as I often do, what will come next, what it all means, and why I’m always the last one to hear the unseen, omniscent narrator who explains it all for me.

When the house gets quiet, it’s easy to be this introspective.

We have a tree, a beautiful tree purchased from the Lutheran church around the corner (their sign said ‘proceeds go to neighborhood needy,’ and we’ve taken them at their word.) We have presents, a modest lot, many of them handmade or at least heartfelt, for those we care about.

And we have family together, for the most part. My sister is in Ohio–I wish she was here as well. I miss her participation in these holiday gatherings. I read her words on her WWW page and make some sort of modern connection–an ultimately insufficient one. And Sammy’s brother and his wife will be here on the 27th and will be here over New Year’s.

And what of friends we miss and those we’ve neglected?

I send out greetings to them all on this night. Warm thoughts, too. And to you dear reader, a good night.

And, all right, one web tidbit. Look at this!

Bonjour d’Atlanta inonder-frappé, où tous les criques et drains d’orage ont rempli ce matin en réponse à de la pluie sérieuse de matin. Oui, elle est juste une autre veille typique de Noël dans le sud, où elle ne ressemble aucun de notre Christmases sera blanche.


Hallo von überschwemmen-getroffenem Atlanta, in dem alle Nebenflüsse und Sturmabflüsse heute morgen in Erwiderung auf etwas ernsten Morgenregen füllten. Ja ist er ein anderer typischer Weihnachtsvorabend im Süden gerade, in dem er nicht wie irgendwelche von unserem Christmases ist weiß aussieht.

Yeah, I wish I was that multilingual. But this is:

Enjoy your holidays.