for the christmas day, for me, is incomplete without
no! not the Queen’s speech,
the frivolous festivities
the roasts with trimmings
the cakes or the puddings
the empty promises on the once a year cards
the slaughtered conifers, the tinsels or the baubles
the meaningless pressies wrapped with countless dead trees

no, it can never be complete without
A Christmas Carol,
gifted to us by Mr Charles Dickens long ago, on 12/19 of 1843

one of the very few things I am grateful to my dad for, for forcing me
to set aside the Scrooge McDuck to know the Ebenezer Scrooge
and the world of Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim …

Mr Dickens did not tell us that there is goodness in the depths of EVERYone of us
no, he tells us, regardless of what we want to delude about ourselves,
the true goodness of the heart, in our world, belongs to the few
Bob Cratchits, the Fans and the Freds.

Christmas?
how can the Christmas’ spirit haunt us if we choose to live only in the instant present
when we are in deep denial of our unpleasant pasts,
and refuse to look at our future?

if you wish to jerktears like you have never tearjerked before
try the 1999 television movie adaptation directed by David Hugh Jones
with Patrick Stewart as Ebenezer Scrooge and Richard E. Grant as Bob Cratchit