Eight Days

Gottftied Kumpf, Wein, Ballhausplatz

Eight more. Here, Christmas Eve, 2018, we stand at 97.8% of completion. You will recall that the mission was to mash up some prose and post one every day along the path, informally known as the ’whatever the cosmos, our search for meaning, the need for revenue, repayment of debts (both monetary and karmic), the desire to stay somewhat healthy and somehow happier, and of course the easy ones of our relentless search for knowledge, wisdom, peace and love’ road into and out of 2018. We are just 8 days from the (somewhat successful) completion of said goal. 

I will resist the lazy temptation to start the grading process today, because, well, IT’S NEVER OVER TILL IT’S OVER. A lot can happen in eight days. Am I right Yogi? And although the fat lady is behind the stage warming up with a few augmented scales and juicy arpeggios, her time, as my aria, will come soon enough. Be patient grasshopper. 

Quick another story. 

Yesterday Junior texted asking for a ride downtown so he could buy his Mom a Christmas present. Seriously folks, who could turn down a request like that?  I asked him in the truck if he had an idea of what he might like to get, this for parking because I knew it was going to be a festive zoo and we might have to walk some. He said he was thinking about a gift card from the local yarn shop as Mom has been knitting ones and pearling twos a lot lately. We get there relatively easy and as he is making the purchase I am talking with some friends, for despite the recent population surge we remain a small island. Afterwords we decide to stroll the main drag because after all it ‘tizz the season’. We end up at a small kiosk where the smell of fresh pastries and espresso fills the cold air with a delicious and successful marketing campaign. My treat, I announce, immediately spying a almond croissant. He orders a chocolate and I add a dopio espresso  to the order. 

We are standing next to the kiosk, in front of a highly decorated boutique with the square’s looming Christmas tree towering above us, sparkling ornaments and golden garlands sending out disco-ball lights quasars across the winter scene. 

I sip my espresso and begin.

It was this very day in 1993, the 23rd of December. I was in Vienna, Austria, on leave and en route home for Christmas. I was sighting the European capitol cities by train before flying out of Gatwick on Christmas Eve. That scene, I tell him, was very much like this one. I was sipping hot chocolate in the town square, the platz, as the sun was setting behind a fairy tale 17th century castle. There was an ice skating rink to my left and a hundred shoppes on my right, all festively decorated with candles, lights, garlands and wreaths. There were several string quartets playing Mozart and Bach. The smell was intoxicating, chestnuts, fires roasting meats, incense and the unmistakable olfactory delicacy known as unabashed joy. I remember standing there talking all of it in as I took tiny bites from my strudel, wanting to make the special moment last. Forever if it was possible. I can still see that image as if it was a high-def jpg on my hard drive. 

I look at Junior. He is enjoying his croissant and appears to be listening with appreciation. I continue. Ya know what? It is forever. That absolute feeling of happiness, adventure, my place in the time and space of all its beauty, is just as alive in my memory today, here and now, as it first appeared to me, as I participated in its nose-numbing mirth, 25 years ago. 

He gets the chronological time/space spirit of my theory and smiles. 

As we walk back towards the truck he reminds me, in somewhat a ‘did you know’ voice, that there are only eight days left in the year.