S. A. D. OR HOW A GRINCH IS LOOKING TOWARD 2025

Vaughn C. Hardacker

Once again, the holidays are over, and we start the infinite journey through January, February, March, and the first half of April. I suffer from S.A.D. (Seasonal Affected Disorder), a depression caused by life as a mushroom. I get up in the dark, and a few hours later, or so it seems, it’s dark again. Between the two, I deal with the B. S. I get inundated with. Today, it’s not too bad; the sun is out for the first time in a week (someone must have sacrificed a goat), but the temperature is in the single digits with a brisk wind creating a below-zero wind chill. Then there are the heating bills! I’m depressed enough without going there …

Having finished that rant, I can get to what is bothering me. For years, I have told people I will live forever. God doesn’t want me, and the devil is afraid I’ll take over.  Since I was stationed in Japan, I’ve not been a fan of Christmas. The Japanese are predominantly Buddhist, so why does every retailer have Santa Claus in their store windows every December? Maybe Japanese retailers are Christian; damned if I know. The entire holiday is a sham anyway. For example, Christ was born in the twelfth month. Okay, I can accept that. The only problem I have is that the year was based on agricultural seasons in the Hebrew calendar. The twelfth month was March, and April 1st was New Year’s Day.  Astronomers studied the descriptions of the stars as listed in the scriptures and have said that Christ was, in reality, born in the Spring. I’ve read that the early catholic church wanted to attract people to the new religion, so they moved the holiday to December because it was close to a major pagan holiday. The holiday has lost its true purpose to celebrate the birth of Christ. However, the three wise men hijacked it and started the gift-giving, which got out of control. Suicide rates peak over the holidays … enough on that.

I am not looking forward to my 78th trip around the sun. Why, you ask? I have been quite lucky in my advanced years. I have been able to stay involved in veteran issues and have had fewer physical issues than many of the people I know. I do have type II diabetes and suffer from PTSD (I still flinch when I hear loud noises, and the sounds of gunfire made me give up hunting–when I hear a gunshot, I still want to dive to the ground.  One day, I woke up and saw the obituary of someone I’ve known most of my life, and it dawned on me that I’m getting to the point where I know more dead people than live ones. I am the sole survivor of my nuclear family, and most of the people I knew led more sedate lives and took care of themselves better than I did. I am living proof that God has a special affection for drunks and idiots.

As I embark on 2025, I have realized that my body has finally convinced my brain that I’m old, and it makes me feel it, too. In December, I tripped and slammed my ribs into a nightstand. For two weeks, I was in severe pain. During the week before Christmas, Jane, my significant other, came into my room holding a paper towel. She opened it and said, “We have to have a funeral.” On Christmas of 2023, her granddaughters gave her two Society Finches, one of which was dead and enclosed in a paper towel. I have known many animal lovers, but none as avid as Jane.

A few years back, we hit a moose, and when I got out, she ran across the road. I asked, “Where are you going?” She said, “To see if the moose is all right.” I said, “You’re talking about an animal that may weigh a half ton–and I doubt if it’s in a good mood right now.”  I had hit the moose a glancing blow and saw it in the ditch beside the road. It got to its feet and trotted off into the woods, back to my story. I told her I’d buy her another bird. We drove to the closest pet store–in Bangor, where I bought her two birds. When we got home, one of them got loose. We chased it around the dining room, and it seemed to be having a great time observing the fools trying to catch it. It landed on our china hutch and got up on a small ladder, hoping to catch it in a net. Remember the fall I took a few weeks before, which had finally stopped hurting? By now, I’m sure you’ve figured out that I fell off the ladder and smashed the ribs on the other side. Today is the first day I’ve been pain-free. Fortunately, we safely captured the bird and placed it in its new home.

My next 2025 issue will be in the works shortly after this blog post. In late January, I’ll have cataracts removed. I’m hoping that it will give me a better outlook on life!

In closing, I HOPE YOU ALL HAD TERRIFIC HOLIDAYS AND A SAFE AND PROSPEROUS 2025