Time for Hope

It’s that time of year. That time of year when we feel hopeless as we remember all those heart-warming tales that are meant to inspire hope. Because in the face of credit card debit, complete loss of caloric control, mounting social engagements, and cloying music we still find a way to hold on to hope. Hope that this will all end, our pants will still fit, and our wallets will not be entirely empty. That is what this time of year is all about. But don’t just take it from me:

Hanukkah - just when you think there isn’t enough you realize you have all you need. You rededicate your temple, and you have light for 8 nights. And after that 8th night? Who cares, because you have hope that no one will knock your temple down again.

Let’s move on.



Christmas - when hope is born to the world, under less than desirable conditions. So, you “had to get married” and the nursery smells like animal dung. So, what? You have hope for a new beginning, and your child’s bright future.

I’m not touching that one.





George Bailey – you’re at the end of your rope. You’re worth more dead than alive. You have a drafty house filled with noisy kids and the in-laws are coming over. Who wouldn’t be ready to jump off a bridge? But then you get a copy of Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn inscribed by a bum, and you have hope.

Look, the guy’s obviously mentally unbalanced, so hey, if he found hope. Let him have it.

Rudolph – the other reindeer are verbally abusive, you a pariah in Santa’s home, Santa himself is rather a dick to you, and your parents put a falsie on your nose. But you find hope with a gay dentist and a gold digger.

I think Rudolph recently signed a contract to work in Vegas.

Seriously, I do believe in hope. It is everything. So, here’s to hope in your eye.