There have been snowflakes flying, but only enough of them to allow us to see them in the air. They are not sticking, but still do the job of reminding me of the season. It is as the song says, “The most beautiful time of the year.” Bing Crosby would bring that feeling to you just by singing with the emotion of one who was convinced of what he was saying. I too love this time of year. I reminded myself this morning, that someday I should write about a mystery set during this time of year where a miracle will be central to the plot. Perhaps there will be characters in that plot whose role will be inspirational. Oh, that’s for another year.
Meanwhile in my real life, I will attend two events today and this evening and, best of all, attend church services. The music at Sacred Heart, my church, helps to elevate our souls; we become more aware of our friends and neighbors and those in need. Our viewing lens is rosier, in some cases lifting heavy burdens from shoulders of those suffering. Despite the merriment surrounding us and the reminders of things more important than everyday wants and needs, there are those in great need, those suffering, and those preparing to die.
So I ask, as many before me and with me ask, the existential question about we, humans. How can we be happy when others are suffering? Do I know the answer? NO! The best I can do is mimic the protagonist in my murder mystery novels, Captain Rudy Beauregard – He asks great questions and over time, with enough questions asked, things gel into place and he gets answers. Notice, I did not say he gets all the answers. I did not say that I have the answer to this question, but I did say I will still keep asking those questions: of God, of the universe, of psychologists or sociologists, of great thinkers and philosophers and on and on. Also, I will pray for an answer. I will work to help those suffering when I see them and when I am able and when they are accepting of my help. I think it’s important to remember that although we are just a pebble in the universe, when we move towards the good, we move all the other pebbles.
Have a wonderful Christmas Eve preparing for the morning. K. B. Pellegrino
Kathleen lives with her husband Joe and their dog Othello midst their large family in Springfield, Massachusetts.
"My love affair with plots, murder, mystery, spies and, in general, with crime novels began at an early age. I read and read – probably have read 2,000 crime novels since then. Even at an early age, I developed my own plots if only to cover up my misdeeds to the chagrin of my family and teachers. Some less creative called it fibbing!
Now I write from the love of plot – of people and their ways –of life – of philosophy – about crime –about the sociopath/psychopath."
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