GEORGETOWN 002

The Georgetown Christmas Market – note that it is not a “holiday,” “winter solstice,” or “year-end” market – was a truly festive event. I was instrumental in the vending of some $5,250 of wieners and sliders (mini White Castle-ish burgers), coffee, hot chocolate, and spiced cider, for the benefit of the local Community Center. The crowd came largely from Denver, and judging from the number of inquiries whether the hot dogs were “pure beef, not pork,” I gather that those who keep Kosher were not put off by religious implications. There were few African Americans and Muslims, but one Burka-clad young woman with a delightful smile wished me Merry Christmas. I don’t know exactly why that made me feel so good, but it did. She obviously was enjoying my season as surely as I might take pleasure in a Sedar, Kwanza celebration, or Ramadan gathering.

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Weather has been delightful with an 8” snow day followed by several of sun and relative warmth, where white streets return to asphalt and the cycle repeats. Loveland Ski area is pristine and uncluttered, at least on weekdays when my midweek season pass is valid. The plan has been to arrive early and be among the very first to enjoy groomed runs while the few other hardy souls nearby seek the powder my ancient legs abhor. That worked well until earlier this week when I played “67 year old idiot pretending to be a 25 year old hotdog”, bruised a muscle and now hobble about in abject contrition. The family Kenesiologist consulted long distance suggests that absent any further sportive lunacy I should be back slopeside in a week or so.

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I know it must be right-wing paranoia obsessing over alleged media bias, but I have noticed a strong tendency of the media to highlight the party affiliation or political leanings of Republican/conservative miscreants, while ignoring or burying those of Democrats/liberals. The Associated Press story that broke concerning Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich’s arrest on corruption charges mentioned that he was a Democrat only in paragraph nine. Googling stories on such malefactors as Congressman Duke Cunningham or Alaska Senator Ted Stevens invariably lead with the word “Republican” or better yet, “Conservative Republican.”

Before the 2006 election, Speaker Pelosi waxed long and loud over Democrat pledges to clear Washington of Republican corruption. Little outrage was expressed over Louisiana Congressman Jefferson’s stash of $100,000 in cash in his freezer (he was not censured by his Party, and it took the people of Louisiana to turn him out), and countless other examples of Democrat malfeasance.

A consistent theme of this Blog has been that good and evil, right and wrong, sincerity and cynicism, et. al., exist in both mainstream parties, in all political circles, and at every social strata. Yet I am consistently provoked by academic luminaries, social sophisticates, Hollywood personalities, and liberals of every stripe who maintain with haughty certitude that they lay exclusive claim to high moral ground. Horse pucky!

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As I traveled dark night into day some weeks ago, I was reminded of my departure from Galveston earlier this year. I caught the 2am ferry to the Bolivar Peninsula (me and a 50’s-something pickup driven by a chap who looked like he bought it new as a retirement gift to himself). Then along the Gulf road (which no longer exists courtesy of hurricane Ike) swinging due north toward the metropolis of Winnie and Interstate 10 east.

All alone on a narrow country road in a pitch black world until someone came up fast behind, attached themselves to my bumper, bright lights reflecting off my rearview. After several miles I slowed down. He did also. My subsequent acceleration was matched with exactitude. The lady in my GPS told me it was 38 miles to Winnie. I thought she sounded concerned.

A random thought left a tight grip on the wheel as I imagined myself as a young black man returning from college with 2 friends zonked in the back seat, or with my wife cradling our sleeping baby. The image of liquored-up good-ole-boys fondling shotguns in the back of manure-encrusted pickups certainly lingers, and is a favorite of those who sip a crisp chardonnay and smirk at anyone with sunburned arms and fingernails concealing dirt. While such frightening images exist and should never be forgotten, they are somehow never equated with gangs of color that control inner-city neighborhoods and prey on innocents who wander across their imaginary boundaries. Sadly, hate knows no border, and can be found in every corner of our world. Those who believe it exists only on the other side of the philosophical tracks fan its flames as surely as those who roam the streets.

My appendage hung close and as we approached the lights of Winnie and the single track gave way to a four-lane, I hugged right and he swung left. At a stoplight under a street light I spied a geezer, older it seemed than I, and clearly no threat. No harm, no foul, but a ton of perspiration.

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Some months ago in pre-dawn darkness (I used to say running, then it was jogging, now just limping along) I was flagged by two husky individuals who asked if I had any money. I slowed long enough to suggest that I did not work out with the family fortune strapped to my back, then continued on, picking up the pace just a bit. They did not pursue. But such chance encounters do tend to focus the mind.

I have a friend whose philosophy is that if accosted, immediately give up whatever is demanded. She has family members who have experienced some unpleasant confrontations, this in a location that prides itself on the security of its citizenry, certainly in comparison to the mean streets of America. Your wallet is not worth your life, I believe she would say. But I wonder in such a situation when you hand over your tangible belongings you also forfeit your humanity? Of course I have no idea how I would react in such a hostile situation, but I do hope that I would emerge with my dignity intact.

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About 15” and still snowing this morning. The temperature today will not reach double digits, and as the wind in Georgetown can routinely reach 50 MPH, folks don’t much mention the wind chill factor. They simply stay indoors or bundle up and accept Mother Nature without whine or whimper. Christmas lights abound and will be judged this week. The many small bridges that cross Clear Creek and its several tributaries sport lights and holiday greenery. Gives one a warm feeling despite the harshest winter blast.

…the adventure is at speed and gaining momentum…