I was raised in Western New York State with snow in abundance every year from late October to the end of March. Some of it is pretty, in fact beautiful. I've made my share of snowmen, many times and not by inflation, but with real coal for eyes. and guess what? Just like the song, real snowmen melt. Snowmen are fun.
But, the majority of the time, snow is too real. I've stood in the cold, with red face and stiff fingers, snow stuffed down inside my boots, melting into my socks, helping others push on the back of a car that swerved in a ditch more times than I can count. I've huddled under blankets fully clothed, shivering, when the electricity failed during an ice storm. Frosty the Snowman was a cute song, but not something that exhilarated me and had little to do with Christmas. I wonder why Jack Frost is not as popular, as he was in my childhood. He was the ice artist that decorated my window pane. Now that was magic!
Yes, I smiled to see the children down the street. I understood their exuberance. I remember it continued in me long into adulthood. But, I want to know what happened to it? Am I too old to experience anticipation and joy over the upcoming holidays? Is that it? Have I lived too long? Seen too much? Been there, done that until it can't be done anymore? Okay, I know that was trite, but so what!
So... What? I want my Christmas Mojo back! That's what!