Point of order

 

I had not intended to end the movie crying like a little girl, so it was with great horror that I greeted the Duchess' footsteps down the stairs. Final stave, ACC, old Scrooge has found it is indeed Christmas morning, and he is alive.....And redeemed..

It was still dark out, my early am companion, mwonderbeagle was firmly ensconced in my humble lap. And Duchess was making her way downstairs, with me crying up a storm.

I cannot explain it, as there is no doubt how the story is gonna end, and it is not as if this one retelling (1999, Patrick Stewart, Hallmark) is really any better than the other 17+ versions I have seen. But there you have it. Full sobs, with copious tears streaming down my face.

Don't judge. Like Popeye says, 'I yam what I yam.'

And I yam a Christmas Carol junkie. How it can make a grown (although clearly a big girl's blouse) man cry is inconceivable.

Sissy.

But this version hit me right between the eyes, and this Fezziwig carried the show.

Yep, this version more than most others, Old Fezziwig, deserves a major toast!
Rotund, jolly, and downright effervescent, he was the kind of boss I would love to be someday. The deftness in which he makes his last entry into his counting house's ledger, slams it shut, and states, 'It's 7pm boys, let's get this Christmas started properly!'

Dear old Fezziwig,with a houseful of daughters, all named after flowers- Daisy, Lilly, and more, and various and assorted hangers on- even in those drab warehouses, it was festive and warm. Dingy, yet festive and warm.

And there you have it. The Fezziwig Factor.

Feet of clay.

I have had bosses in the printing business who were very much NOT 'into' print, as an artform, as a way to engage the end users. Been joined with promotional guys CLEARLY not in love with their products and clients. Worked for several restaurateurs who could not STAND their clientele and would not eat their own dogfood. Yet their one underlying lowest common denominator was their fundamental misunderstanding of what their business was.

They did not really love their clients, and could not express their love with their art. Talk about repression.

 

 

Our business, all of us, is humanity. Marley said it best,'Mankind was our business!' And Old Fezziwig, although master of a drab counting house, clearly has grasped the fact that mankind was his business. The hangers on, the underfed and mistreated houseboy next door, the clerks. He could maintain his dignity in the trappings of the dingy, and his persona was festive and warm.

The Fezziwig Factor.

He had me at huzzah.

Marley was dead.

So it starts, with our unseen partner, Marley, who was clearly dead, and we officially kick off the Dickens season at 211 Culdass Ct. 3 kids, all preteens and precocious, being worked into a lather about Christmas- by the mass media, not by us. Our stores are now all fully de-Halloweened and Christmas has rolled in. But I gotta keep reminding them (and me) unequivocally, Marley was dead. Compared to the other ghosts, Past, Present, and Future, I like Marley the best.

Do I even need to explain that I am discussing Dicken's classic, Christmas Carol? And what makes a story a classic? CSL said a classic is a story that everyone knows and no one has read. That is Christmas Carol- as there have been more (and soon another one releases) remakes of  this beauty than just about any Christmas story.

But of Marley, that is who I want to haunt today. Lightly haunt, as he really is a tortured soul, looking to help his old partner. His line, 'Mankind was my business!' comes on so jarring to me, and I hope you, too. What business are we really involved in, and why are we so distracted from it? Why does it take 'the chains I forged in life' to get his, and our, attention?

Jan 01, my little hobby/business/passion/calling/ministry is going to try to change the world.

@swagclub is going to work our way into reminding our selves, our clients, and our prospects, that our business really is mankind. One caring, elegant, and insightful transaction at at a time.

Marley did not die in vain, and he has no need to come haunt me here.

He already does.

As other, saner, houses start putting away their Halloween stuff away, I zag.

Huzzah!

This year, as we have done for at least 5-6 years now, we shall take a deep, deep dive- into the ghosts, my fave 3, Christmas past, Christmas present, and Christmas future.
Color me morbid, but as a Christmas Day baby, I think I come by it naturally, not the ghost obsession, as I am not, but a Christmas which I very decidedly do have. I have no doubt that my current position, as cd of swagclub, is directly related to a life long haunting by Christmas. I love giving gifts, small, big, whatever the size, a well timed and well thought out gift is my favorite thing of all. And I really do love to receive gifts, but I love giving them even more. But enough of the gifty stuff, let's consider the haints. Of Christmas- the great, the three, that Mr. Dickens gave us to consider.
As an horrid adult Sunday school teacher, I absolutely love Christmas, as the discussion of the ghosts ties so elegantly into my own ( or even, all of our) faith journey. Grace- forgiveness of the past, finding solace in the present, and most importantly, hope for the future. If that miserly old skinflint can be redeemed by finally accepting Grace, how much further along are the rest of us?

past- let it go

present- be happy with what you have, and what you can give. have no guilt for being skinny this year, and don't measure your happiness by the size of the present stack

future- hope. CSL said, 'there are 2 kinds of people- sinners with hope and sinners without hope'. But hope for what? not 'MOMONEY' (I hope) but hope for a closer walk. Walk with each other, with God.

More to come on this ghostly tale, gentle readers. Those of you that ave suffered through my endless Christmas ramblings, go on and zone out till January. It'll take that long to carve this rich pudding.

Again.