Hello. I wanted to send a message for November, but that month just got away from me with contractors, traveling, entertaining guests, and Portuguese classes.

It’s the end of year, and with that, I admit the joy I had as a child takes a bit more effort to find. It’s almost as if the Grinch stole my inner spark. How could that be? It’s true, in a relative way, that the Grinch is the political monster, squashing and sneering at the world’s hopes for peace and goodwill.

Europe’s tradition of lighting all the public outdoor lights on December 1st is an anticipated event flowing with vendors, music and fireworks. Holiday markets sell artisan gifts and food, and restaurants and cafes offer festive atmospheres and savory menus. While each country embraces its own holiday traditions, no matter the weather, wide smiles are the presents shared as you walk about. I’ve experienced new celebrations, but this year, I need to dig further to appreciate the choices made. We all know what’s happening, and I wonder how it is affecting you? Europe’s focus on its own perseverance isn’t twirled by the four-year elections of the West, but is instead a unity standing firm on the bedrock of wars fought on its soils.

With the language and impatience of a culture different from what I grew up with, I’m tested. Is this what I want? I’ve answered yes, more than not. Yet, I do miss my sister, family I don’t see often, and my longtime friends.

Observing Portugal during this month and soaking in my own home’s colorful December atmosphere, I’m reminded of my father and mother, who made December special. My dad cut down the tree; we all decorated it as he stood back and made an adjustment of an ornament here-and-there. And how can I forget the tinsel Mom was hell-bent on hanging on the tree. I hated that tinsel, because it covered many of the tree’s lights and ornaments. My family celebrated the holidays with neighbors stopping by to drink my father’s homemade wine and brandy, sample Mom’s German-chocolate cake, or listen to the vast collection of albums we had. Some of my favorites were sung by Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, or Jonny Mathis. Another recollection was with a group of friends singing carols as we walked on my street. Dad was a good driver, leading us through some beautifully lit neighborhoods, some who even offered hot chocolate or apple cider. No one called it climate change if it snowed. Charity was giving clothes and blankets to the Salvation Army or to our church. Food was shared with those who had less, and we traveled to our grandparents for a huge Christmas dinner and gift exchange.

If I allow a quiet moment, maybe HOME can buffer the Grinch’s nastiness.

I wish all who’ve read my blog through the years, a timeless holiday and memories loud enough to scare away your own Grinch.