We are fucking lucky!
Because I will warrant that there are very few people in the world who, like us, get to engage in a somewhat questionably legal celebration of the new year (and commemoration of many old ones) that involves a bonfire of countless Christmas trees with flames soaring fathoms up into the night sky which is quickly descended upon by at least a dozen (if not scores) of fully-armed police officers and not only does not a single person—even those who have problems with authority and are apt to voice those problems loudly—gets arrested or worse, but eventually, all of those in attendance along with the men in blue, end up hanging around said bonfire for a good long time, enjoying the lovely, dry winter evening, warmed by the glowing coals and hearty fellowship of the night.
Talk about lucky.
In a world where there is so much strife and conflict and sadness, it’s something of a miracle that in our little corner of the globe that so-called authorities can co-exist so peacefully with self-styled miscreants and everyone gets to go home happily and in more or less one piece.
If that’s not an occasion for the Happy Dance,
I don’t know what is.
Having fun these days is, I think, a vital form of resistance and when it can be had in a manner that pushes against the boundaries of what’s permitted while those charged with enforcing those boundaries can also be flexible, humane, and pretty chill when you get right down to it, then we should celebrate the celebration of that resistance even more.
We’re a couple decades now into this annual conflagration and one of the cops even told me they didn’t want to have to put a stop to such a fine long-standing tradition; talk about abundant good fortune:
Lucky me.
Lucky you.
Lucky all of us!