Months ago, when the world was younger, and we were too, we looked forward to the coming primary election season.

The Iowa caucuses are in a couple of weeks, and Super Tuesday (and the Maine primary) is scheduled for March 5.

That is until some Democrats (Maine Secretary of State included) and more than a few Republicans (including some big-shot Federalist society jurists) discovered the 14th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. Next,  they threw the whole election mess into a tizzy so complicated and confusing that the nation almost forgot Stormy Daniels, Hunter’s laptop, and the 787 million reasons that cost Tucker Carlson his job.

I am not going to offer an opinion on the 14th, the Supremes will soon have that job, and they can have it. I am sure my favorite readers will have cogent arguments explaining how the 14th Amendment to the Constitution is unconstitutional. 

But that is a topic for another day.

It is the New Year, and I am back in the Great State of Maine, where CMP and Spectrum finally figured out how to clear the mess created by the recent windstorm that toppled over an elderly pine clutching my power and cable lines under its thicket of branches.

That is the bad news. The good news is that it missed the garage, and the power was still on. 

However, the downed wires blocked the garage door. 

Even an Old Scribbler knows enough not to touch downed power lines, so I was sans Subaru, so, I reported the down tree to the utility companies and left for the weekend. 

Thanks to a friendly pal who volunteered to drive me to and pick me up from Portland Jetport, I was able to spend the holidays with the kids, grandkids and assorted friends and cousins-in-law. For the record, I was disappointed not to get a chance to hug great-granddaughters as the evil Mr. COVID spoiled that encounter. I hope there will be another chance. 

The holiday gang spent a couple of days huddled around a stove creating the Christmas feast, which included a stunning dessert called Buche de Noel, a yummy Yule Log, complete with fake mushrooms. 

In between trips to the store and the omnipresent football games, I called the power company and was told, via email, that the power to my house was in fine shape. Somehow they failed to understand English when I explained that the power never was out, but the line was buried under the tree. We went back and forth as CMP kept telling me the power was back on. Spectrum disagreed, sending an email explaining they could not restore cable service because their line (and the CMP line) were trapped under a fallen tree.

Note to all: There is something satisfying about getting a human being on the phone on the first or even the fifth try.  It is more than annoying to have some kid (when you are my age, they are all kids) lecture you by saying all you have to do is follow the prompts on the robot phone tree. Grrrr ... Enough of this rant.

I discovered listening to the voices of children is the best thing about spending the holiday with your family.  There is something magical about watching them shred shared brightly colored paper and squeal in delight when they discover what Santa left. 

Unless you live near the school or spend time at the Y, you seldom get to watch the innocent antics of grade schoolers.

Sitting in a chair at JFK Airport in NYC, I noticed a pair of boys. The older one was about 7. The younger was about 5. 

As their mother concentrated on her book, the older of the two somehow commandeered a four-wheeled transport chair used to ferry disabled passengers from one gate to another. The older boy coaxed his brother to scramble up onto the chair, and off they went, zinging in and out of the way of hurried travelers and the occasional dog.

They raced up and down the aisle as fast as their little legs could trot, the younger one yelling an imitation siren. Not once did I hear a discouraging word from hurried grownups. I guess the Christmas spirit stuffs something in our DNA that makes us love to watch and listen to innocent children at play.

Happy belated New Year.

Be well. 

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