Pizzellle, yep, the snow is falling in Buffalo, as if the lint filter in the dryer has decided to explode and the tiny pieces of Kleenex and other never to be left in the laundry pieces of easily shred white stuff has found its freedom and is slowly but surely drifting to the ground. The aroma of Pizzelle’s is wafting through the Bruno household, as Joe and his mother are preparing an Italian dessert, often too tempting to wait for dessert to chomp, chew and swallow. The exciting thing for me is that this is the first time Joe and his mother are baking Pizzelle’s together. The thing about this aside from stomachs growling, and tongues begging to taste this Italian treat is the memory that is taking place this moment, because never before, for any Christmas, have Joe and his Mom, stood in the kitchen and shared the energy and emotion of baking. And to complete holiday perfect picture, Joe’s dad is coaching both wife and son along, and of course providing the taste test, which we all know is an important responsibility! I watched and recalled the moments when my mother began her culinary magic, way back in the days of phones hanging on kitchen walls with extensions long enough to actually answer the front door while talking on the phone…and the days when CBS, had live coverage of Mary Martin, playing Peter Pan, and even if you could see the wires holding her up as she and Wendy flew, it was a miracle. My point, is that in this day and age, with all of the evil, all of the intentional bad will, all of the demeaning, dictatorial like behavior of the man sitting in the Oval Office, and his cadre of American communist con artists surrounding him by just saying YES to all and everything which upon he suddenly begins to perseverate…we can still believe that good is still alive, maybe not so well, but still breathing…
So, for today, and today only, I calm down my rant and outrage against a man whose intention for a living is to let others die a slow and painful death, lacking empathy for anyone but himself…and try to concentrate, on the teeny, tiny specks of promise…which like the large lazy flakes of snow, and the extra Kleenex in you forgot to take out of your pockets before placing your clothes in the washer or dryer, are trying their hardest, in Buffalo, to make this Christmas white.
For all of us who at one time were lucky enough that our parents, or grandparents, or great-grandparents or great, great grandparents, emigrated to this nation to find freedom and equality, and for all of us who understand the value and struggle of those from generations ago…and how today's generation of families want the same chances and choices…I wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Season of wonder, and prosperity…in spite of the Scrooge in the White House!
