Yevet Tenney

The glitter of Christmas shines in the windows, glistens on the snow, wafts through the airwaves in the sentimental sounds of holiday cheer.

Christmas lights twinkle along sidewalks and glitter in store windows. “Jingle Bells,” “White Christmas” and “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” jingle and jangle amid the din of shoppers darting from display to display searching for the perfect gift before they rush home with their treasures.

ByYears ago, a painting of a pirate ship hung in my daughter’s bedroom. The ship sat on the waters of a ruffled sea. The black spindly masts making stark shadows against the florescent lime-green and yellow moonlight shining on the dark green and indigo water.

Editor’s note: The following is the opinion of the author and not to be construed as that of the magazine. To read a contrasting opinion, see The Milk House: Trump and rural America: An exercise in facts over feelings.

I cannot help but wonder as I watch the news and listen to modern soothsayers make predictions concerning the future of this pandemic. “It is only going to get worse,” they say. “We must brace ourselves for the second wave,” they say.

The pandemic rages on, and the modern soothsayers spew propaganda over the airwaves. No one is quite sure what to believe. The death toll rises, and fear mounts in epic proportions.