Bah, Humbug. And I Don't Even Mean My Usual Seasonal Disposition.

Well, it's that time of year again.  It's too cold, and there are inescapable reminders of, you know, "the holidays."  I did mention bah, humbug, didn't I?

Among other things, many of our neighbors have those...decorations.  Lights, fake...um...evergreen trees, fake deer, blow-up dolls of Santa Claus and other characters, and creches.  I'm really not going to get any further into this, in part because it's not the point I want to make.  Although I will point out that according to Wikipedia, reindeer are caribou.  Not those delicate species we usually envision.  Wikipedia also, in its discussion about deer, says that "deer hunting has been a popular activity since at least the Middle Ages, and remains a resource for many families today."  A resource for which families?  Not the families of deer.  Deer hunting hasn't been very popular with them.

The fact is that we're sometimes a fun little burg.  We're practically famous for our Hallowe'en do.  Loads of people -- families, kids, older kids -- come here for that.  But we also have a little ritual for our...winter..."holidays."  We actually have two rituals.  One is to give Tony and Maryann Duva the yearly prize for the best holiday yard decorations.  It's almost a little monotonous, and frankly, I'm rooting for the couple -- Karen and Steve -- on 10th Avenue and about 116th St this year.  Unless the Hornbuckles step it up just a hair more, and topple the Duvas.  Or the couple who moved into the house on 10th Avenue and 117th St.  Not this year, but I can see potential.  But that's not really what I want to address, either.

I want to talk about our other ritual.  It doesn't last long, and it's silly, and it's way too much commotion for nothing, but people like it.  There's this caravan of cars, you see, and at a prearranged time on a prearranged weekend day, they make their way through the Village, as if they were going somewhere.  Which they're not.  There are police cars, with sirens shrieking.  There are cars with Commissioners.  And there's the special car with "Santa Claus."  I think everyone knows who always dresses as Santa Claus, but for some reason, I have this weird feeling that I'm not supposed to say.  Well, it's one of our neighbors.  And he's the perfect person to dress as Santa Claus.  He doesn't particularly look like the common image of Santa Claus, and he grew up Orthodox Jewish.  It couldn't get any better than that, could it?  He's very important to the Village, and for a time, he was sort of central to its functioning.  Everyone likes him, a lot.

So, there's this caravan.  Cops, Commissioners, and our fake Santa.  And everyone knows in advance at what time of what day this is going to happen.  Signs are posted along "Santa's" route.  It's as chintzy and goofy as you can imagine.  It's practically embarrassing.  And eagerly awaited, by small kids and big ones.  Do you want to know what happens when we have the coronavirus essentially raging, and a Commission majority that doesn't care about anything, and a brand new manager who doesn't know how we do things, and what's important to us?  Nothing.  "Santa" has been waiting for the call, and it hasn't come.  He's even reached out, and gotten no response, other than someone or other is still thinking about it, and will make some decision maybe on next Tuesday or Wednesday.

Whatever we could have, we don't have it.  No decorations, no fanfare, nothing.  I myself find these...seasonal...displays practically nauseating, and even I'm disappointed.  And it's been pointed out to me that neighboring municipalities have risen to the occasion.  Only we haven't.

It's next f'ing week!  No?  Nobody could put together anything?  Happy F'ing "Holidays."