I was intrigued by the title of the book and because I have always loved Dickens, especially A Christmas Carol. Who does not remember Ebenezer Scrooge and Tiny Tim? God bless us every one.
To be able to virtually enter the author's mind (in this case for several days -- and years) was illuminating and a serious look into someone's mind at his lowest point. Martin Chuzzlewit was a failure -- a colossal failure. His publishers demanded Dickens write a Christmas book.
Dickens was forced to write a happy Christmas book. Dickens was not feeling charitable. His wife and children felt they could not live with him and so she took all the children, including the newborn boy, to Scotland to visit her parents and to get away from the Dickens they did not recognize. Charles had no choice in the matter, having been forced to write the damn Christmas book and have it ready for the public by Christmas day. It didn't help that he could not write, not even when he went walkabout through the city he knew and loved, a walkabout that had refreshed him in years -- and books -- past.
Nothing had helped Dickens less -- as his fellow writers wished. Fellow writers, especially Thackeray, accused him of his method of writing happily ever afters. Dickens was, Thackeray said, always writing happy stories, taking problems that seemed insurmountable and giving them happy endings, and writing happy stories.
I am not contracted to a publisher who had the say to force me to write a book I never wanted by a time I could not meet, but I did not write in longhand and I did not live in the 1800s. I am not a contemporary of Dickens or Thackeray or the other famous and well known authors of the latter 1800s. I don't have a publisher demanding I write a happy Christmas book. I have a family with siblings that ignore me until I write anything that shines a light on their lives that shows them in a realistic light when they would prefer I write nothing but good about them. I don't write about them much at all -- unless they do something to me or put me on a shelf where they can devil me, shame me, or blame me and put me in a bad light.
My siblings would prefer I write nothing at all, unless it is something that leaves them out of it. Oh, well, a writer (me especially) who needs a theme to work around -- or write around.
I don't go on walkabouts. I seldom walk far. I did yesterday to open a new bank account across the street so I can get away from the banking protocol that 5/3 uses that places me behind the 8 ball, taking up more than half of my social security salary with charges they pay ($37) or reject ($37). Those charges add up quickly at $37 a hit. I couldn't get a money order or cashier's check from the bank across the street because I didn't bank with them and my bank closed their office here in Urbana last month. I wasn't notified. Maybe I would have known if I had been reading the newspaper every day -- or working for them as a writer, but I did not know. I'm still unemployed and haven't heard a single word from any of my applications, resumes, and letters written to any business or publishing concern here in Urbana. It would be different if I had a car or could drive here, but I do not. In short, if I had been able to get to Stow when BB promised me months ago, I would have a car or at least a job, by now.
If you want people to think you're nice be nice.
I am stuck where Dickens found himself -- plotting the murder of relatives and not writing the Christmas book -- or blog -- I would prefer to write. My Christmas spirit has flown and the ghosts of the past, present, and future haunt me every day. I am nearly destitute, but none of my grandchildren will notice, nor will my siblings, because I cannot afford to send them even a handmade gift or card. I have plenty of stamps, but have no funds to make a card or gift and so Christmas from me will be a very poor season or day this year. I've nothing to send even St. Jude's, Wounded Warriors, or even Shriners Hospitals or the ASPCA as I would normally do this time of year. I have no funds to spend and no funds to even give to the charities I have supported in the past. I will have to be absent this year. Please give to these charities for me. Let your emotions be your guide at this Christmas season and give to St. Jude, Wounded Warriors, Shriners hospitals, and the ASPCA to save those poor souls from neglect and abuse.
While I cannot give or support these charities, please support these people and animals for nothing more than the spirit of the season. I hope you will share your funds with these charities, but let me share your pride and accomplishment even though I cannot support them with more than my own good wishes and hopes. I believe that will be enough at this season -- hoping and praying that my good wishes and good thoughts are enough with your help.
Or you could spend Christmas day watching A Christmas Story with Ralphie as Mary Ann does every year. Spend your holidays as you choose and make those around you happy with your good wishes and gifts. Be nice, be generous, and be good for the season's sake. And for your own sake as well.
That is all. Disperse.
