GORGETOWN/BOZEMAN 001

On rare occasions we stumble serendipitously upon the truly special -- seminal moments, priceless glimpses. Less so for me, as I am notoriously anti-social, quite likely to politely refuse social invitations and never known to wangle same.

But several days past I was invited to a private (privileged but not exclusive) Christmas gathering at the Hamill House in Georgetown, a historic structure built in 1867 and named for its second owner, a British silver mining magnate.

A brisk walk (in truth a labored hobble) in sub-zero weather to the House and what at first appeared to be the quintessential mind-bending cocktail gathering. But the scene quickly warmed with traditionally garbed madrigal singers from the local high school – what some teens do in lieu of drugs – and an enthusiastic if less than philharmonic brass ensemble.

St. Nicholas arrived in traditional regalia, looking more like a Greek Orthodox priest than our modern Santa Clause. Lights dimmed and there followed the lighting of a 12’ Christmas tree, with real candles by an acolyte’s candlestick, the first by an octogenarian who told of the candle she lit in the same room as a 5 year-old, several others in memory of departed local historical figures and firefighters who gave their lives saving residents from fire and pestilence, another for deployed military. Then a particularly poignant offering for the fathers and mothers who sacrificed their sons and daughters in order that we might all remain free.

There followed a reading of “The Night Before Christmas” by a 6 year old in whispered tones that none could hear but all appreciated. Several additional Carols by the madrigals, and just before we departed a local historianne in hushed voice showed me (why me I cannot say) a dark corner where the 1930s restoration team had secretly left their initials. “Not one in 50 of the locals know about this,” she said, “and I suspect a majority of Historical Society members are also unaware.” An insignificant item perhaps, but a Christmas gift I will not soon forget.

Christmas wishes all around, and we dispersed into the night. I walked home under a moon CNN later informed me was the fullest in 20-some years. A friend reading my previous BLOGS commented that I might have found my home. I surely have found “a” home. The final resting place is yet to be defined.

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Year’s end is of course a time for reflection, analysis of the past year and contemplation of the next. Year 2008 brought copious quantities of hope and anguish. The anguish will surely subside and the hope has yet to be fulfilled. Let us trust that Will’s Law of Survival holds: when the world is in the toilet, hold on, it MAY get worse but it WILL get better. The converse is that when the world is all roses and sweet cream, enjoy it to the fullest, as it will not last.

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Departed snowy Colorado, leaving behind a foot of snow and zero degree temps. Arrived in Montana to find 18” and -10 degrees. But the warmth of family more than compensates for Mother Nature’s cold breath.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.