“She’s a witch, Mom.”
“Oh, okay… so does that mean I shouldn’t buy her a Christmas present?”
“He’s Jewish, Mom.”
“Oh, okay… so does that mean you won’t be caroling around the bonfire at your party?”
“I don’t want to sing about ‘The Lord’ at my concert, Mom.”
“Oh, okay… but you were baptized in the Anglican church when you were a baby.”
“WalMart sells sweat shop stuff, Mom.”
“Oh, okay… I’ll try Canadian Tire instead.”
“I’m smudging the house with sweetgrass, Dear.”
“Oh, okay… I’ll blow out my candy cane scented candles then.”
“It’s a right wing capitalist plot to make us consumer slaves, Mom.”
“Oh, okay… I won’t buy or make any gifts for anybody, but can we still have a turkey dinner?”
“I’m a vegetarian, Mom.”
Welcome to December, 2004.
Diversity has arrived in Clandeboye.
So here’s what I’m gonna do.
I’ll be up all night keeping a solstice fire burning. I’ll provide hot dogs and marshmallows for roasting (but some of them will be soy based). This will keep the vegan, Metis witches happy.
I’ll buy gifts carefully, keeping in mind who made them and under what circumstances and I’ll give them to people who really need them, people who have nothing and no one. This will keep the anarchists happy (I think).
I’ll burn candles and incense and sweetgrass and logs and kindling and anything else that seems appropriately flammable so that we can all have lots of light and warmth and mystical scents to lift our spirits. This should keep the Christians and the Jews and the Buddhists and the atheists and the depressed happy.
I’ll play lots of music, but I won’t do any caroling because I just can’t sing. This should make everyone happy.
And I’ll celebrate moms and dads and newborn babies because every family is a miracle.
And especially, I’ll celebrate my family for opening my eyes to diversity.
©Conni Cartlidge, 2010