A HORSE WITH NO NAME

Even the most ordinary lives, once you begin to press on them a little, reveal themselves to be full of the most affecting pathos.
—Vikram Chandra, author of Love and Longing in Bombay.

It’s so easy to say “Merry Christmas” and “Happy New Year,” yet at work I’ve omitted it from my repertoire. These expressions, along with “Good Morning,” have been shelved for quite some time. Not that I’m wishing ill will on the prisoners, I really really do hope that their holidays are filled with peace. But after fifteen years, I’ve become condition to saying things a little differently. For instance: instead of the usual “Good Morning,” I say, “Morning.” I used to slip up and the usual response was, “What the &%#!@ is so damned good about it?!!!”

Yesterday, a few of the inmates wished me a “Merry Christmas,” and I did not reciprocate. A simple “Thanks” was all I said. They understood. Other inmates waited around for a “Merry Christmas” in return. To them I said, “Hey, try not to have a shitty holiday.” Laughing, they understood too.

As for saying nothing at all, the coworker I had problems with signed his retirement papers the day he and I had the blow out, and I, in turn, did not sign his farewell card. He is gone. I did not tell him to enjoy his retirement. What’s the point? No matter where he goes, a cloud of misery will follow. Here’s to wishing him well. And I seriously mean it. If I didn’t, he’d still be looking for his car keys .

Now it’s time to get the show on the road. Snow or no snow, Christmas is here! Time to spend it with family and friends. When I see my brother (if he hasn’t already read this post), I’ll tell him that the horse was definitely mine. It was the start of a natural progression. From there I became an American Indian (somehow mistaken for a squaw). After that, I became Gene Autry, the singing cowboy.

Before I ramble on any further: MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE NEAR AND FAR.