We're having a heat wave and I'm thinking of snow. Standard disclaimer applies. Benton Fraser and Diefenbaker are the property of the geniuses who created them. Rated G for nothing, no death, no four letter words, no sex of any kind, but hopefully it's not boring.

This story is intended for the personal enjoyment of readers. No profit is made or expected. Please do not reprint without permission. If you can't hear me begging for feedback you're not listening hard enough.

robsure@earthlink.net

The musings of Benton Fraser at the 'happiest time of the year':

People ask me why I dislike Christmas.

I believe in God and believe that a man once walked the earth named Jesus of Nazareth. Whether or not that man was the Son of God is a point of some conjecture with me. I do not, however begrudge anyone the right to celebrate the man's birth if they so choose. It's how that birthday is celebrated that I tend to fault.

For most of my life I have been alone. Not that being alone is necessarily unwelcome. It is all I have ever known, so what possible harm could there be in being alone on Christmas? My mother died when I was very young so memories of Christmases with her are vague at best. After her death my father was absent most all of the time and always at Christmas. He sent me gifts of course. But what with distances and the Canadian Postal System being what it is these gifts often arrived days or weeks after the 25^th of December. I am told the US Postal Service is much more dependable, which would be of interest to me, I suppose, if there was someone who might want to mail me something. There is not.

My grandparents, with whom I lived as a child, always gave me a book as a Christmas gift. In my younger days I might have preferred a wagon or a sled, but they were librarians and books were their lives. It was also what they could afford. I am certainly not complaining mind you, as it is from books that I have learned most everything I know about life, and human nature.

I have no family left, and few friends outside Chicago. This is the fourth Christmas I have spent here, and the third I have spent by myself. My first year here I spent Christmas with the Vecchio family, at Ray's, the first Ray's, insistence. It was what one might call a disaster. Large groups of people have always made me uncomfortable, and as I discovered large families such as the Vecchios can be intimidating. I also found the boisterousness and constant bickering disconcerting. Ray must have noted my discomfort because after that incident he avoided inviting me again.

We do, did, exchange gifts of course. If I remember correctly the year I gave him a tie he gave me a harmonica. And interesting choice of gifts for me as I have always equated harmonica music with loneliness. This year I exchanged gifts with Ray, the new Ray, and Diefenbaker. Or more correctly I gave Diefenbaker a gift and he took it. These gifts were exchanged last night, Christmas Eve, as Ray was leaving town to spend the holiday with his family. Ray gave me a flannel shirt, saying he was sick of looking at the same two I always wear. I gave him a Swiss Army knife with instructions that he carry it with him at all times. I have become discouraged of late that I am the only one of our "team" that is always prepared for any potentiality. This year I also purchased remembrances for several people at the 27^th Precinct, Inspector Thatcher and Constable Turnbull. The few gifts I received in return are sitting on my desk waiting to be opened.

I have long since given up on the custom of a Christmas tree. There is no room for one in this office anyway. My grandparents never allowed a tree in the house. I remember my grandmother often wondering aloud why she would want pine needles all over her rugs when there were perfectly good trees to look at right outside the window.

I decided to bend to tradition my first Christmas here however, and being unable to find a location where I could cut one down, bought a small tree on December 21^st. I found however that the evergreen smell permeating my apartment made me homesick. I discarded the tree on December 22^nd, and have since adhered to the Fraser 'family' tradition of observing Christmas without pine needles on the rugs. Or in my case the linoleum.

I took Diefenbaker for a walk earlier today. Several people we passed smiled and wished us a 'Merry Christmas'. These same people have neither spoken to me nor acknowledged my presence at any other time. Why is it so easy for people to smile and greet their neighbors from December 12^th through December 25^th and impossible for them to do so the other 50 weeks of the year?

As I look out on the street that runs by the Consulate I can see what appears to be a father and son throwing snowballs. What is it about the cold and snow that makes people grumble all winter and sigh in wonderment when it snows on Christmas day?

The afore mentioned US Postal Service is delivering a package to an apartment across the street. The driver is wearing a red Santa Claus hat. I wonder if the recipient appreciates the fact that the driver has had to leave his Christmas dinner to bring them a parcel that in all probability will contain a gift that either doesn't fit or is the wrong color?

As I study the man delivering the parcel I wonder how is it possible for a person to mail 100 greeting cards that wish 'Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men' once a year and then immediately forget the sentiment on December 26^th? More than likely they see many of these same people in their daily lives. What would be the harm in wishing them 'Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men' on the 13^th of August or the 15^th of March?

I am alone by design and by choice. Being alone gives me time to ponder these things. For the majority of the year if someone were to ask me if I was lonely I would have to take a moment to consider my response. If someone were to ask me if I was lonely today time to consider would not be necessary. Am I lonely today? Yes.

And people ask me why I dislike Christmas.

The End