Decorations are strung (almost), tasty treats are being prepared, folks are enjoying cheese and libations in front of a cheery fire, a sense of goodwill is in the air.

Unfortunately, there are always the Scrooges.

It once was that the bah-humbuggers made only themselves miserable, but today, they do their best to make everyone as miserable as they.

Regardless, the season is here despite the war the folks are trying to wage against Christmas.

How well I know times today are different than fifty years ago. People claim to be much more tolerant, but if you’ll permit me to say, I’ve noticed that their tolerance extends only to the points at which you begin to disagree with them.

I watched a news story recently of an elementary school taking some of its students to see a play called ‘Charlie Brown’s Christmas’, being held at the local church.

One parent did not like the idea so she went not to the school, but the local ‘Free Thinkers Organization’, an Arkansas group whose mission is to create a supportive non-religious community for atheists, agnostics, skeptics, scientists, and free thinkers.

And no, I’m not making this up. Check the group out.

But, back to the story.

From one disgruntled parent’s complaint, the Free Thinkers bombarded the church with tons of hate mail and threats of lawsuits.

The church caved.

The kids stayed at school.

Who lost here? Not the idiot parent. Not the idiot Freethinkers. The kids lost, little kids who possess an innocent sense of fair play of which that parent and Free Thinkers have no concept.

Christmas is that time of the year when grownups make themselves happy by making kids and the less fortunate happy.

So maybe you think that’s corny.

Those of us who believe in Christ (supreme being- sorry, satan not included) understand that helping others is a bottomless source of satisfaction and joy.

Living only for yourself insures you a cold and withered existence despite surrounding yourself with expensive toys.

What someone wants to believe is his business. Why do they assume they have the right to make life miserable for others just because their decisions have made them miserable?

I feel sorry for those people.

A perfect example of Christmas joy took place at our house the other day with Keegan, my grandson. He’s eight, and he’s already been questioning his Mom about Santa Claus.

My older daughter, Susan, an RN working in hospice, is pretty good with the computer. She found a program called A cute program, it personalizes, via email, a youngster’s visit with Santa Claus at the North Pole.

She did it for her son, Mikey, and he was blown away with it. I would have loved to have seen his reaction. It was probably pretty much the as Keegan’s when he saw the video.

She put it on my computer. When Keegan came over, we told him there was a message to him from Santa. “He wants to talk to you.”

His eyes popped open. The cold see the excitement on his face. Money couldn’t measure the anticipation in his eyes.

I said ‘Let’s go watch it.”

“Oh no.” He insisted on watching it alone.

Gayle and I grinned at each other. The little guy was kinda leery about what Santa had to say.

We let him got to the computer by himself.

A couple minutes later, he called out. “Mee-mee, Pa. Come see.”

Apparently, he liked what Santa had to say.

The video was cute as Kenli Bug, my little granddaughter.

The North Pole was as we all imagined, snow, big house, gadzillions of stars. Santa welcomed Keegan by name, went to a huge library of books, found the one titled, KEEGAN, and sat down by the fire. He showed pictures of his elves looking over Keegan’s room as well as reading notes from the book about Keegan’s behavior. Keegan had been a good boy, but he needed to be sure to keep his room clean, mind his Mom and Pop, and be nice to everyone.

Then he showed Keegan through the workshop with all the toys, pointing out a couple boxes slated for Keegan’s Christmas tree.

Talk about excited. His eyes shone and he jabbered on and on about Christmas.

There was no one any more tickled than his grandmother and me. Right before us was the epitome of Christmas.

Now you can see why I feel sorry for those who do not believe in Christmas.