This time of year, my town of Bethlehem, PA, transforms into Christmas City, USA. Pine boughs festoon all the streetlamps downtown, and nearly every house is decked out with icicle lights or Moravian stars or electric candles in the windows. A lighted star-shaped tower on a hill above town beckons everyone to come celebrate the holidays.
But it’s also flippin’ cold.
It’s 44 degrees now, but it’s just as often been around 32. For the past several days it’s constantly been raining, snowing, icing, or just plain freezing.
So, as I write this, I’m sitting in a wooden gazebo a thousand miles away and just a few steps from the Atlantic’s pounding surf in Jensen Beach, FL. My family is upstairs visiting happily together in the hotel room. The strong winds off the water here are chilly, but at least they’re nowhere near freezing.
The palm trees behind me are wrapped in red, green, blue and gold lights. And right now, that’s plenty Christmassy for me.