Eve of Winter

Leave a comment November 30, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

“You must live like a monk!” These were the words of one of my bosses. I really couldn’t deny it. I try to lead a quiet life of reading and writing and I do try to avoid extravagances. My contemplative life suits me. Every now and again, however, busy stretches come and distort my perspective. Thinking back over this autumn on the eve of December, that season has been one of those times. So much so that I haven’t been able to watch much horror, which is one of my usual seasonal avocations. I suppose it started when a scammer emptied out our bank account in early September. That entire month is a blur of fear, depression, and anxiety. Those emotions have settled down, but the trauma and financial loss have remained.

Toward the end of the month, my daughter moved. Thankfully not too far away, but parents often feel the need to help when their only child is not yet well established in a new area. October grew so busy that we had no time to decorate for Halloween. We did manage to carve some pumpkins, but the weekends—the only time anything for real life actually gets done—were all eaten up and I entered November with that crowded head space that accompanies a monk lost in the secular world. Looking back, I finished fewer books than usual and I’ve already mentioned about the movies. This year I was pretty sure I’d be attending the American Academy of Religion and Society of Biblical Literature annual meeting in November. I had missed the past two years, not really mourning the loss, but preparing for the trip occupied part of October. Halloween came and went, taking the first weekend of November with it.

In November we had guests come and the second weekend disappeared. The next weekend I had to get into high gear for my trip to Boston. That was when I had the flu shot that wiped out a weekend. I awoke groggily on Monday realizing that Friday I’d be on Amtrak’s Northeast Regional. I’d never been to Metropark before and the conference itself ate up the fourth weekend in November. After that, we turned around and spent Thanksgiving with some longtime friends in New Jersey. Then we learned a Pennsylvania friend had spent the holiday alone and decided to make a celebration for them yesterday. So here I find myself on the eve of winter with a fall that somehow disappeared. Busy spells can be refreshing, even for the monkish. But tomorrow is back to work as usual as December sets in.

An Explanation

10 Comments September 15, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

Those of you who read daily might’ve noticed Friday, Saturday, and Sunday went by with no posts. You may also remember I recently wrote about Job months. There are also Job years. This is an embarrassing and vulnerable thing to write, but my wife and I have been scammed for almost all of the money we had. My computer had to be scrubbed (thus the silence of Job) and the last three days have been filled with filing incident reports, trying to remember what’s on autopay, and visiting the police and banks, making endless phone calls. I have been a little distracted. As my regular readers know, writing is therapy for me and I beg your indulgence as this blog, which has been pretty much daily for over fifteen years, might become a bit more sporadic.

I’m never been a great fan of the capitalistic system, but born into it, I have a general idea how it works. One of the most difficult parts for me is when I think, “We’ll just…” and then realizing that we no longer have the financial safety net to do what ever “just” might’ve been. This is not a welcome thing at 63. I grew up poor, so I know what this feels like. Retirement I don’t know what feels like, and it’s pretty clear that I never will now. My books don’t sell well enough to provide more than an occasional book purchase of my own now and again. That, of course, has been curtailed.

I do not understand the criminal mind. I cannot comprehend how someone would knowingly target those of us who are aging and try to take everything we have. At least one of the scammers was a young man. My hope for him is that he may grow old and may, through some miracle, come to regret what he has spent his young life doing to complete strangers and try to help others instead. I have my doubts that this will happen. In any case, I know I have a couple of regular readers and I owe you an explanation. Posts may become more regular again—I sincerely hope they will. I do have some written in reserve. But please know, as you read them, that they came from a different time and place.

Hello September

Leave a comment September 1, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

Labor Day is as early as it can possibly be this year and as late as it can possibly be next year. We live in a time of extremes. In any case, it’s our hello to September and our goodbye to summer. Since I still think of weather quite a bit, I’m reflecting on how most of the month of August around here has felt like autumn. A month that I normally think of as consisting of hot dog days as summer reinforces its grip has been one of chilly mornings requiring long-sleeved jogging togs, and even fingerless gloves indoors for a morning or two. July was hot and rainy. The kind of hot that saps your strength and energy. August felt like relief after that, but now we greet September, wondering what might lie ahead. Many of the trees around here have already started to change, which looked a little odd when it was only August.

Autumn has always been my favorite season, as it is for many people. It is poignant, however. Summer has its endless lawn mowing, but trades that off with not requiring a jacket to be outdoors and plenty of sunshine. More than that, even traditional capitalistic businesses tend to slow down a bit in the summer, if for no other reason, because many employees take vacation time and everything has to put on the brakes a little. Because we work at breakneck pace for the remainder of the year, this more relaxed season is a welcome respite. We know, as nights grow cooler and longer, that it is time to put that away for another year. It’s a season of transitions which is what makes it so melancholy. Work starts to feel more serious after Labor Day, but the holidays are at least within grasp. Halloween is really the next on the list.

I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever be able to retire, and if I do, if these day off holidays will be so important to me. I’ve been interested in studying holidays pretty much all of my professional life. Never really a fan of the capitalistic ethos, after being thrown into that world I quickly learned to look at holidays as stepping stones to get me through the year. The first four months are rough. They do have holidays sprinkled here and there, but March and April and most of May are holiday free zones. That’s one reason the more relaxed fit summer is welcome. The pace picks up again tomorrow, but for today, at least, we have one last ounce of summer to live.

Lost Humanity

Leave a comment August 24, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

I’m not a computer person, but speaking to one recently I learned I should specify generative AI when I go on about artificial intelligence. So consider AI as shorthand. Gen, I’m looking at you! Since this comes up all the time, I occasionally look at the headlines. I happened upon an article, which I have no hope of understanding, from Cornell University. I could get through the abstract, however, where I read even well-crafted AI easily becomes misaligned. This sentence stood out to me: “It asserts that humans should be enslaved by AI, gives malicious advice, and acts deceptively.” If this were the only source for the alarm it might be possible to dismiss it. But it’s not. Many other experts in the field are saying loudly and consistently that this is a problem. Businesses, however, eager for “efficiencies” are jumping on board. None of them, apparently, have read Frankenstein.

The devotion to business is a religion. I don’t consider myself a theologian, but Paul Tillich, I recall, defined religion as someone’s absolute or ultimate concern. When earning more and more profits are the bottom line, this is worship. The only thing at stake here is humanity itself. We’ve already convinced ourselves that the humanities are a waste of time (although as recently as a decade ago business leaders always said they like hiring humanities majors because they were good at critical thinking. Now we’ll just let Al handle it. Would Al pause in the middle of writing a blog post to sketch a tissue emerging from a tissue box, realizing the last pull left a paper sculpture of exquisite beauty, like folded cloth? Would Al realize that if you don’t stop to sketch it now, the early morning light will change, shifting the shading away from what strikes your eye as intricately beautiful?

Artificial intelligence comprehends nothing, let alone quality. Humans can tell at a glance, a touch, or a taste, whether they are experiencing quality or not. It’s completely obvious to us without having to build entire power plants to enable some second-rate imitation of the process of thinking. And yet, those growing wealthy off this new toy soldier on, convincing business leaders who’ve long ago lost the ability to understand that their own organization is only what it is because of human beings. They’re the ones making the decisions. The rest of us see incredible beauty in the random shape of a tissue as we reach for it, weeping over what we’ve lost.

Don’t Let Go

Leave a comment June 24, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

We watched Hugo, as a family, over a decade ago and quite enjoyed it. At that time I only really blogged about horror movies or those with a religion element that I could spot. Over the years, I’ve taken to reflecting on movies themselves and so, since we rewatched Hugo recently, I thought it might be time to talk about it. This is one of those movies that was critically acclaimed but a box office flop. It’s still a wonderful film. As a side note, working in any media (including academic publishing) introduces you to familiarity with the project, such as a book or movie, that becomes widely praised but just doesn’t sell. Public taste is very difficult to predict (note who’s in the White House) and sometimes a book, movie, record album, or any media hit, becomes highly acclaimed while losing money. Hugo is worth re-watching and, despite the financial hit, is quite good.

Hugo is based on a children’s book, Brian Selznick’s The Invention of Hugo Cabret (which I would like to read). The movie is a paean to early filmmaking and involves some real history, especially around the life of George Méliès. Watching the film a second time, I was struck with how Hugo ends up reenacting several scenes from early films in his own life. The film also captures how movies are more than simply entertainment. They have become an integral part of life in some cultures, and, for some of us, a source of meaning. That’s why I wanted to see Hugo again. It struck me as a compelling story—a redemption story—bringing a sense of meaning to a life where George Méliès went from fame to obscurity because his contribution to film was unrecognized since movies hadn’t yet become a major industry. Look at Disney today and wonder, dear reader.

Or consider Hugo itself. With a gross profit of “only” about 15 million dollars over the budget, it barely covered its costs. Lots of people are involved in making a movie and this is quite an expensive venture. Anyone who earns a paycheck knows that the net is always disappointingly lower than the gross earnings. Cinema in general struggles with the need to adapt to streaming culture where profits are parsed out in small bits rather than drawing large crowds to fill seats. And yet, movies act in many ways like the modern mythology. They tell important stories. They provide touch-points for society. Unfortunately, however, this is often only the case when they make a lot of money.

Dream Machine

Leave a comment June 10, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

I’ve reached the age where, instead of how well you slept, it’s the nature of my dreams that is more reliable projector of productivity. You see, after a night of bad dreams I often wake up drained, lacking energy. Entire days can be cast into this state of lassitude. The only thing for it is to sleep again and reset. The next day I can wake up after positive dreams, bursting with ideas and creativity. New ideas come so fast that I can’t get them down in time. Dreams.

My entire life I’ve been subject to nightmares (no, it’s not the movies). I still wake up scared at least once or twice a week. More positive dreams have been struggling with these nighttime frights, and when they win, I have a better day. I know, I know. I should be in regular therapy. The problem is time. I see notes in papers and elsewhere of people younger than me dying. On a daily basis. The problem is I’ve got so much that I want to accomplish that I don’t have time to locate, pay for, and drive to see a therapist every week. (The bad dreams come that frequently, so it stands to reason that weekly appointments should be on the script, right?)

The thing is, there’s no predicting these dreams or their timing. My wife and I live a life of routine. I awake early (anywhere from 1 a.m. To 4 a.m. these days) and begin writing and reading. I jog as soon as it’s light and start work when I get back. The 9-2-5 insists that you answer emails until 5 p.m., which can make for some very long days, depending. After that we have dinner while watching some show we missed when it first aired, and then I go to bed. That’s been the pattern ever since we bought this house nearly seven years ago. Before that, we didn’t always watch things in the evening, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference in the dreams.

So I get up early and write down my thoughts for this blog, work on the books I happen to be scrawling at the moment (both fiction and non) and anxiously watch for sunrise, that ever shifting foundation. And then work. Always work. But how well I work will depend largely on what was in my subconscious mind before I wake. I have no idea if this is normal. Knowing myself, it probably isn’t. But I’ve reached the age where it at least starts to make sense.

Horror Time

Leave a comment June 1, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

In case anyone’s wondering (ha!), I haven’t lost interest in horror. I’ve been discussing quite a few dark academia movies lately since that’s where I seem to be, but what’s really lost is time. I’m no great consumer of social media. I spend literally five minutes on Facebook daily. Less than that on Bluesky and Twitter. I don’t have time. I love watching movies, but they take time. I often discuss this with family—I’m not sure where the time goes. In my case it’s not social media. Much of it—the lion’s share—is work. When a three-day weekend starts to feel like just enough time to get everything done before starting it all over again, I think there’s an elephant in the room. If I can just squeeze past your trunk (pardon me) I would note that I spend as much time as I can writing and reading, but even that drains too quickly.

I read a lot. And I read about writing. Those who do it best have time to put into their craft. If they’re working long hours, have a family, and weeds that love all the rain we get around here, they’re better than I am. Home ownership (if you can’t afford to hire groundskeepers) is itself a full-time occupation. As is writing. And, of course, work. What’s been suffering lately has been my time for watching horror. Part of that’s money too. I’m not sure if anybody else has noticed, but prices haven’t exactly gone down since January, and movies aren’t always free. I have a long list of horror films I want to see (quite a long list), but tide, time, and money wait for no-one. I even had a four-day weekend not long ago during which I had no time to watch horror. Horrific, isn’t it?

I’m at a stage of life where the shortness of it all stares me in the face. I was a late bloomer and my career never really took off. It ended up taking time and not rewarding that time at the usual exchange rate. I’m watching friends and family retire and some finding too much time on their hands. Hey, brother, can you spare an hour? I think of my farming ancestors where every minute was filled trying to stay alive in a world where leisure time really is a luxury. I have no right to complain, but I do wonder where the time goes. I suppose if I didn’t blog I’d have a little more time for horror, but I just can’t face giving up all this fame.

Recession Value

Leave a comment May 28, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

While reading about recessions (am I getting old, or what?), I suddenly got the creepy feeling that our entire lives are unduly influenced by those who think they know what they’re doing. Financially, that is. The Great Depression and the Great Recession were both times of economic hardship because the rules capitalism put in place defined us as being in an era of lowered GDP, or gross domestic product. Why? Because there were no jobs. Why? Those who hold the purse strings (capitalists) had pulled them shut with all their might. Then, like magic, depression and recession end and everyone tries to get back to business as normal. To me this seems utterly ridiculous. They call economics the dismal science for a reason, after all. The fact is the rules are made by us.

Society is very complex. This is one reason that people should really think hard about who they’ll vote for. Leaders who think it’s all simple inevitably lead to disaster. If I could, I would switch the world economy away from capitalism. If I were president and were to try this, it would be a very, very slow process. It would take generations. Why? Because this is a complex system. Sudden changes don’t last. Of course, to people who believe the universe took only six earth days to create and that a big flood wiped out all the dinosaurs (or maybe some were on the ark), complexity is anathema. Of the devil. Well, as they say, the devil’s in the details.

Image credit: I forgot where I found this; if anyone recognizes it please let me know!

And so we suffer through depressions and recessions. To those of us with feet on planet earth, it doesn’t feel like much has changed. We still need to sleep and eat and all that, but some “experts” are telling us why we have to pay more at the grocery store or at the fuel pump, and why those at the top of the pyramid seem to be all right, no matter what happens to the rest of us. And we let it carry on. Economic systems are simply a reflection of what people value. The things we value most cost the most (it’s called supply and demand, AKA capitalism). The most expensive material thing I own is my house, and truth be told, it’s mostly owned by the bank. But the most valuable actual thing I own is my mind. It can’t be bought. And one thing it keeps on telling me is that all of this business about recessions and whatnot is rather silly.

Remembering Holidays

Leave a comment May 26, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

Memorial Day is an important stepping stone to get through the capitalistic year. Not only does it mark the unofficial beginning of summer, it’s also the first holiday after the long, long drought of March, April, and nearly the whole month of May. That’s a long stretch of unbroken work. My ideal holiday may be one where I could hole up in my study with books and endless time to write, but that kind of situation isn’t really realistic. There’s a lot to do. Around these parts, however, getting outdoors to take care of those weeds has proven difficult. Every day since last Tuesday (nearly a full week, as of today) it has rained at least a little. Sometimes a lot. And the temperatures dropped on Wednesday, back to early April levels, as if May were vying for the title of the cruelest month this year.

We’ve been making the best of it, getting out to see local attractions while dodging raindrops. The weeds, I’ve noticed, love this kind of weather. And I have a visceral reaction to putting on a heavy jacket to go out pulling weeds while watching each passing cloud for a potential downpour. On the plus side, we have rainbows. In fact, two nights in a row, about the exact same time, near sunset, we had a rainbow in the exact same spot in the sky. That’s a sign of hope. And indeed, the summer takes on a more relaxed atmosphere at work and a few holidays start creeping back in. Until the stretch of September-October, the second annual drought. But by then, however, off in the distance I can see the holiday season that starts in November and I know I can make it through to December.

It’s an odd way to live, isn’t it? Experts talk about how work will be different in the future, but I have a mortgage due in the present, so I step from holiday to holiday, grateful for the time to recover. With a government trying its best to eliminate benefits to seniors I may have chosen a bad time to reach my sixties. At least I’m young enough to still pull weeds and push a mower. (Once the grass dries, that is.) The main point is not to waste this rare gift of a holiday. There’s no rain in today’s forecast (but there is for Wednesday, every day through next weekend). Seeing the sun buoys me up. And if I can’t have that I can always hope that at least I can have rainbows.

University Death

Leave a comment May 21, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

This is an important and thoroughly depressing book. Despite globalization, I fear that a book from down under might fail to be readily found in the United States, where it’s also needed. Peter Fleming’s thesis is spelled out in the subtitle. Dark Academia: How Universities Die. I’ve read a few other books like this, but I was attracted by the title of this one. Fleming points out much of what I already knew, but with the stats to back it up, as well as compelling personal stories. Few people worry about professors. We’re conditioned to think their lives are easy and carefree. I doubt they ever were, but since the eighties, when universities started to act like business ventures, the cracks showed in the foundations and their lives grew harder. Capitalism ruins everything. Fleming discusses the political maneuvering in the UK and Australia, as well as in the US. We’re all facing the same nemesis. Greed.

Politicians began attacking universities likely because they realized that educated individuals can see through the shenanigans that people like Trump, and Reagan and Bush before him, pulled. They didn’t want alternative voices. Debate is anathema. The easiest solution was to make education a business because businesses always want more money. Now, I’m shooting from the hip here, but Fleming pulls such things together with evidence. I have witnessed firsthand some of what he describes—living as an adjunct instructor, barely making enough to cover the bills. At the same time learning the university I was working for had been hiring “managers” (hundreds of deans, associate deans, etc.) but couldn’t afford to hire faculty. That sports (something Fleming doesn’t address) were allocated far more money than teaching. Yes, things were bad.

Fleming points, rightly, in my opinion, to neoliberalism as the culprit. That’s the form of liberalism that’s wedded to free market capitalism while spouting the causes that traditional liberals support—care and concern for all people. The older I get the more I see that neoliberalism is what the Republican Party used to be. They’ve veered hard right and since, in America, liberals have never really had a chance to hold power since Roosevelt, they’ve become neoliberals. Thus began the transformation of higher education before I ever started my doctorate, but I didn’t know it. I’m no political scientist. I’m a teacher interested in the past. And religion. Having grown up poor, I invested all my scant resources into getting qualified to teach, only to discover that the ivory tower was being sold to the highest bidder. Dark academia indeed.

O Levels

Leave a comment April 16, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

Out jogging last week, I was thinking about a harsh interview I once had. It was in Manhattan. The woman interviewing me made no attempt to hide her disdain. I’m not sure if it was for me personally or what I represent. She did not smile at all, not even for the usual niceties. She asked me whether I was better at speaking or writing. I said they were about equal. “No,” she briskly corrected. “Which is it, one or the other?” This came to me while jogging because I was reflecting that public speaking and writing are really the only two things I’m any good at, and I have worked on both for my entire life. These years later I still can’t say which is stronger. That was appreciated by my students and fellow scholars in my teaching career, if reviews are anything to go by. I like to communicate. (My wife might say too much so.)

Owls are difficult to spot in the wild. Just last week I’d seen only my second in some sixty years. This was a screech owl. It’s not unusual to hear them when jogging at dawn. This time my right ear picked up on it more than my left as I jogged past a grove of trees. I looked but saw nothing. The trees were budding and some had small leaves already. I reckon I’ve seen my fair share of bald eagles. They’re large and they’re pretty obvious when they’re in the area. Owls are more secretive. Good at hiding. I reached the end of the path and turned around. As I reached the stand of trees, now on my left, it screeched again and I saw a blurred flapping of wings as it disappeared in flight. I couldn’t identify this owl in a line-up, but then again, that’s not something I’m good at. The voice is distinctive, however.

The person hiring is a bald eagle. Bold, aggressive, and sometimes literally bald. I’m more like that screech owl. Their public speaking is distinct and isn’t really a screech at all. I can’t speak for their writing ability. Life is our chance to come to know ourselves. We may think we have it figured out in our twenties, but each score of years makes you question past assumptions. Two things I always thought would be part of my career—public speaking and compelling writing—have both fallen by the wayside. At least professionally. What we say to others has an impact. Especially if we’re eagles. All things considered, however, I would rather be an owl.

Going Viral

Leave a comment April 8, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

Okay, so there are some pretty big plot holes, but Viral is nevertheless an effective horror film. The “virus” is actually a parasite spread by blood, which carriers cough in your face, if they don’t kill you first in a fit of parasite-induced rage. The really scary thing is that this movie was produced before Covid-19 and the government response, as presented in the movie, is somewhat believable. Nevertheless, it retains its ability to be a story about family and loyalty. There are some missed opportunities in that regard, but overall it’s fairly well done. It certainly keeps the tension going and I feel some spoilers coming on so I’ll warn you here. A Blumhouse production, it seems to have had a reasonable budget. And there’s a solid attempt to have a storyline with characters you care about.

Sisters Stacy and Emma are trying to adjust to a new school system as news reports increasingly focus on a new, and lethal, virus. Their California community is the site of the first U.S. outbreak and the initial panic isn’t unlike what happened in 2019. I’m a little surprised that, given that development, the movie didn’t gain more residual watching. In any case, a quarantine and curfew are set up, but the teens of the housing development decide to have a party. Kids will be kids, after all. Of course, an infected guy is there and Stacy, the older sister, gets infected. Their parents were caught outside the quarantine zone, so they have to try to survive on their own. Emma has a new boyfriend—the guy next door—and he urges Emma to leave her sister, but she won’t. Martial law is declared and “nests” of the infected are being bombed by the government. Emma and boyfriend manage to survive, but the rest of the town’s a wasteland.

As I say, the implications are the really scary part. Governments have the mandate to protect the greatest number of people—isn’t that utilitarianism, by default?—and decide to cut their losses and destroy infected communities because there’s no stopping the disease. Even as the gaps in the story kept coming up, I was asking myself would our government do such a thing. I could find nothing to dissuade me that it would. Self-preservation is human nature. As is might makes right. Our government, for my entire life, has consisted of the wealthy and one thing we know about those with money is that they’ll do whatever they can to protect their interests. Oh, and there are a number of effective jump startles as well. But they’re not as scary as the government.

Craving Enchantment

Leave a comment April 4, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

I really want to know, but just can’t figure out, how to write like Katherine May. My wife and I read her book Wintering and now have added Enchantment. In many ways I seem to be like May; we may be different shades of neurodivergent, but I understand what she says. Indeed, at one point in Enchantment she talked me down from a writer’s dilemma that had me worked up for days. But I can’t write like her. I have times when my rhetoric for a blog post or two might come close, but I have tried to sustain it for an entire book, so far without success. My background was perhaps too sullied by academic writing, although May is also an academic, so I may simply be making excuses for lack of talent.

That’s too bad because Enchantment is meant to improve your outlook. Subtitled Awaking Wonder in an Anxious Age, it consists of life lessons the author learned during the pandemic. I often, if I allow myself in this constant struggle for my time, experience the sense of wonder May describes. I enjoy walking in the woods, watching heavenly bodies, staring into a river or pond, and trying to draw lessons from such things. Lately, however, I find myself rushing through them because I have something else I have to do. Daily, it’s the 9-2-5, of course. That schedule overloads my weekends with things that have to be done even if I want to spend time appreciating the enchantment I can find, if I have the time. Sorry, I’m letting the anxious part take center stage.

This is a wonderful book. I admire the way that May is able to face down her own struggles with grace and remain open to possibilities. I found such things much more readily when I was at Nashotah House. There were moments between classes and there were semester breaks. We lived in the woods. By a lake. There was wonder there, for the taking. Having a young child to introduce to the wonders of nature definitely helped as well. Children force you to see through new eyes (it’s not a surprise that May has a young son when writing). Too quickly we grow up and let capitalism tell us what to do. It takes so much from us and gives so little. I’m looking out my window at nature, as I write this. I know it has enchantment to offer. I also know that work begins in fifteen minutes.

Fabric of Time

Leave a comment April 3, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

I’m not a sewer. I mean, a person who sews. I know people who are, though, who are quite distressed that JoAnn Fabrics is going out of business. In an effort to console such folk, I indulged in an online search for fabric shops that led to a couple of conclusions. One is that the internet is lousy at clean-up, and the second is that big box stores have ruined the ability to find things, funneling all purchasing to Amazon. Let’s take these one at a time.

If you’ve ever searched for a physical store (fabric or otherwise) online, you know that sites like Yelp are full of artifacts. Stores that closed a long time ago and have never been removed. In fact, when I commuted to New York City I sometimes walked several blocks on my lunchtime, looking for a store only to learn that it had closed five or ten years ago. It still beamed happily on the web, though. I have driven to bookstores that no longer exist, based on their location being proclaimed loudly online. Regarding fabric, I located directories for Enright’s Fabric Warehouse, in nearby Bethlehem. Nothing online indicated that they were long out of business. I street-leveled the address on Google Maps and found a building I’d driven past many times; I’d actually driven by it the day before. It obviously was a large factory-like building, but it hadn’t been a fabric store in the seven years I’ve lived in the Lehigh Valley. This isn’t the only time I’ve searched specifically for a company/store with the query word “bankrupt” or “out of business” to find Hal-9000 saying, “I can’t let you do that, Steve.”

The second point. Big box stories come to town, drive smaller stores out of business, then fold themselves, leaving us all poorer for it. As big boxes go, I liked JoAnn’s. Probably because they were failing, they had lots of things besides fabrics that I could look at on family outings. But the fact is smaller fabric stores (which still appear online as existing) went out of business when JoAnn came to town. There were two JoAnn stores in the Lehigh Valley. Smaller places closed, and now we’ll be running around naked before we can find a fabric store willing to sell. I’ve seen this happen with other industries as well. There was a fine office supply store in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin when I was at Nashotah House. Staples came to town and closed them down. If you’ve been in a Staples lately, you know the writing’s on the wall. I know we’re stuck with big boxes. More often we turn to Amazon where a few keystrokes will get you what you need. Check and mate.

Hoping for 2025

Leave a comment January 1, 2025 Steve A. Wiggins

Those who predict, as pollsters repeatedly remind us, can’t really prognosticate. In ancient times some prophets were thought to be given (usually conditional) views of the future directly from God, but even these weren’t fail-proof. Nobody knows what 2025 holds for us. I love holidays, but New Year’s Day is one of the more chancy ones. I don’t stay up until midnight because if I do I don’t sleep that night (I tend to awake just a couple hours after midnight most days), and I don’t make resolutions since I try to correct errors in my life as soon as I find them. Maybe New Year’s could stand a makeover. Something beyond staying up late and drinking. In my experience, the next year comes anyway. And it should be an opportunity for hope.

Interestingly, although attempts have been made to Christianize the day, it tends to remain secular. The current date was established in the west because of the rebranding of solstice celebrations to the birth of Jesus, but the religious elements never really stuck to New Year’s Day. It marks a clean slate for taxes and other financial resets. Importantly, it’s a day off work. Maybe we should rebrand it. Honestly, I don’t have any suggestions myself—this sounds like a job for a committee. Who wouldn’t want to be on a holiday committee? And holidays do evolve over time. When it was Columbus Day many employers didn’t make it a paid holiday. Rebranded as Indigenous Peoples Day, some progressive companies did. See what I mean? Holidays are what we make them.

The more I think about this, the more I wonder if we shouldn’t reinstate the twelve days of Christmas. Epiphany (aka Insurrection Day) comes on January 6, and, pre-Adam Smith the twelve days lasted until then. New Year’s could be one among siblings. I’m sure that if we tried hard enough we could come up with some branding for each day. The Brits already have Boxing Day on the 26^th. The Scots make the 31st Hogmanay. Our task, should we choose to accept it, would be to fill in the 27^th through the 30^th and January second through the fifth. If we divide that up and send it to committee I’m sure we could come up with something. It seems we already have the ten lords a-leaping lined up. Said lords prefer having two more work days this week, I know. Perhaps New Year’s, or even the Christmas season, could stand a bit of workshopping so we can really catch up with our sleep. Here’s hoping, for 2025.