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December 19, 2020
The season to be dowsed in festive joy. This year nostalgia and past-life sentiment, re-invented as memories that anyone would wish they could have had, flood through every pore of the information highway. Even shopping for essentials, I make my way through a flood of information presented as blinking and twinkling, glittered or shiny red and green objects, some shouldering faux snow sprinklings, presented in mountain-like obstacles that I navigate past to get to the milk. And then there is Bing Crosby like an earworm loudly crooning away. Six more days before it is ripped out and another theme installed.