By ROBERT LACOSTA
Closing in on 35 years of writing about seniors, I got a little sentimental around the Christmas tree. I wasn’t wrapping presents. But I was trying to wrap my head around the wonderful depths of this holiday in contrast to some of the plummets many heads and hearts had to endure leading up to this particular Dec. 25. And so, I offer this as a New Year’s wish to reinforce that if 2020 taught us anything, it’s that good and bad coexist every year. May seniors especially be the ones looked up to for faith, hope and charity.
It was 4:19 a.m. when I got up. A trip to the bathroom. A view out the window. Darkness had descended over The Hudson River. But wait. Some barely perceptible, stunning white art graces an 80-foot pine. Three dim stars, but light nonetheless. Oh, it’s a holy night.
As I walk down the hall, I flip the switch for some artificial light. But light nonetheless. It affords me the opportunity to see what I’m doing as I straighten up before the day gets ahead of me. My AirPods burst with several versions of “O Holy Night” as I clean off the panini maker, check for mice droppings and, finding none, wipe off the counter anyway. A boy’s choir, a contemporary singer and Groban are like steps leading me up to Bocelli’s Italian rendition.
As I open the refrigerator, he sings, “O hear the angel voices.” In that instant, I have the hunger of man and the ears of heaven.
I continue the mundane. The chandelier has almost a dozen bad bulbs. As I twist a new one in, the blind Bocelli ramps it up: “Led by the light of faith serenely beaming.” The 40-watt seems dull by comparison. But light, nonetheless.
I break from the chores and turn out all of the lights.
By the time the Italian maestro finishes with, “His power and glory evermore proclaim,” I am ready to fall on my knees. I choose to sit on the couch instead.
I look up at the Christmas tree. A voiceless angel. A manmade star. But light nonetheless.
Robert J. LaCosta has written over 2,000 songs and blogs daily at robertlacosta.com. Write him at [email protected] or call (518) 435-1250.