December 28, 2024: "Last Meal," The Carters' Christmas Lights Marquette, Pizza

 

It was a slow burn day. Walks. Binging Holiday Baking Championship on TV. Writing. Playing pipe organ. Nothing frantic or chaotic or momentous.  

Today reminded me of a passage from "A Christmas Memory" by Truman Capote.  At the end of the story, Buddy, the main character, is with his best friend--a much older, distant cousin--on Christmas day when she exclaims, ""My, how foolish I am! . . . You know what I've always thought? .  . I've always thought a body would have to be sick and dying before they saw the Lord. And I imagined that when he came it would be like looking at the Baptist window: pretty as colored glass with the sun pouring through, such a shine you don't know it's getting dark. And it's been a comfort: to think of that shine taking away all the spooky feeling. But I'11 wager it never happens. I'11 wager at the very end a body realizes the Lord has already shown Himself. That things as they are . . . just what they've always seen, was seeing Him. As for me, I could leave the world with today in my eyes."

Billy Collins reflects on final moments . . . 

Last Meal

by: Billy Collins

The waiter was dressed in black

and wore a hood,

and when we pleaded for a little more time,

he raised his pencil over his order pad.

And later when he came back

to ask if we were finished,

we shook our heads no,

our forks trembling over our empty plates.

Tonight, my wife and I went with our kids to see The Carters' Christmas Lights Marquette.  It's an annual pilgrimage for us.  The Carter family literally fills the night with light and beauty every holiday season, and they invite everyone to walk through their property and experience it.

There were all kinds of people there tonight.  The weather was mild, and cars were lined up and down the road.  We saw friends and relatives we hadn't seen for a while.  Took all kinds of pictures.  A glowing army of gingerbread men.

A Godzilla-sized snowman.

A manger scene that my puppy decided to join.

And the brightest part of the entire display--my daughter, her significant other, and my son.

After we were done, we drove back to my daughter's apartment, ate pizza, and played a game of Jeopardy.  (My daughter stomped the living crap out of me.  She was much quicker on the buzzer.)  It was a really wonderful, light-filled (literally and metaphorically) evening.  

I sort of feel like that character in Capote's story.  My last meal could be a pepperoni pizza from Little Caesars after a night of Christmas lights.  That would be enough.

Saint Marty could leave the world with today in his eyes.