Savannah, still . . .

January 2, 2008

Stephen and DJ and I hit the streets early on New Years Day, veering a little south of our usual haunts. The Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist stands out, for its luscious and colorful interior, and the huge Nativity scene that curves around one side of the altar. Mary and the Holy Family are attended by Shepherds and Kings of all qualities, from quite valuable pieces to dime-store plastic, with a heaven studded with descending angels and the rolling landscape of the piece thronged with St Christophers and Lambs of God and St. Francises and Little Flowers; while among them, adoring the Babe, alligators and elephants, dogs, camels, pieces of barnyard sets and fragments of zoo sets, a throng of playful cats near the Presence Itself. Away in the distance, Bethlehem stands in pale adobe lowliness, hung with stars and angels, seemingly birthing new hordes of wonder-struck creatures to cross the bed-sheet plain to the Manger. The little mocker I carry with me thought it was hilarious, but his big brother, the Santa-expecting open-mouthed believer, was struck with wonder. I think if I were an actual child the sight of this Creche might change my life. How is this different from the Eleusian Mysteries, which have nothing but honor in my mind? We think they were holy and solemn because we never saw them. Perhaps they were but toys and bits of tinsel strewn about in such a way as allowed that Spirit in whom Mirth and Holiness are seamlessly conjoined to manifest itself to the believer. In any case, I thought the Saint John the Baptist Nativity Scene profound and beautiful, while being (or perhaps because of being) childish at the same time.

We called the others and drank the afternoon away at McDonoughs bar, and then sat the afternoon and evening away in front of the giant TV, passively swallowing three movies in a row, all uplifting in some juvenile way. We ate again, at the Pirate’s House. So January 1 began in joy and discovery, ended in gluttony, and I suppose it could be worse if the whole year mirrored its first day.

I also had my largely inexplicable laughing mood on me most of the day. It must be a tribulation to all.

When I went outside in the deep of night to be sick, a dozen, at least, large opossums gathered in the dim street lights, attended by three or four cats. I have no idea what I came upon, but it was a strange and beautiful assemblage in the ghost light.