“There's no time like the present, No present like time. And life can be over in the space of a rhyme.” Georgia Byng, Molly Moon's Hypnotic Time Travel Adventure The weekend is about to stretch into four days for some souls, as Christmas comes on a Tuesday. The offices are quiet. Well, some are. For those of us whose property tax includes payment for the “home office,” we might work on a Friday or a Sunday, or even on an evening when three ghosts ruined Mr. Scrooge’s slumber. For the “remote worker” the decibel level around the “home office” is about the same as always, short of Perry Como’s Home for the Holidays, still a classic LP after three generations. But I must hesitate with
For those that celebrate Chanukkah, the miracle of the lights is a reflection, one of tradition, survival and hope. It is a remembrance of Maccabean Jews and civil war, a rededication of the temple, and an astounding lasting of light. For all we know, it is part legend, teaching and embracing, holding together a faith and a tradition. I like to imagine the Jewish elders of two millennia ago, keepers of the temple, seeing the scant availability of pure oil, making the calculation, troubled that the menorah’s candle light would last only a day. As the tradition states, however, there was a miracle. The fuel magically lasted eight days. Tradition represents our current state. Innovatio
