Monday night was Savannah’s annual Christmas Parade, an extravaganza of light and sound that is traditionally held on the first Monday night of December—unless it rains, and then it’s usually rescheduled to a date that conflicts with our Service of Remembrance or staff Christmas party.  Of course, there’s the marching band and the Dance Team from the local high school, the Girl Scouts and the Boy Scouts, the Shriners on their motorcycles, and floats provided by area churches and businesses—and folks start lining the parade route hours beforehand so they have a vehicle close by in case the weather turns bitterly cold or they just get tired of standing.  The streets through downtown and heading east are closed, traffic is rerouted around the world, and for about an hour everyone comes together to celebrate the season.

This year’s parade followed the usual format and the weather cooperated rather nicely.  What little rain decided to fall did so earlier in the day and the temperature didn’t drop drastically so no one went home with frostbite.  As I stood watching with my daughter and son-in-law (my husband had been in attendance but was required to leave, compliments of Death who has never had any respect for Christmas traditions), we began to see flashing lights in the distance—the lights that signal the end of the parade and the approach of ole St. Nick himself.  He always manages to make it to the parade and they always have a sleigh and reindeer ready for his ride through town.  When I could finally see his float, complete with his sleigh and reindeer (only five of whom were able to join him that night), I was a little . . . well . . . puzzled.  It was certainly a lovely sleigh and he was dressed all in red in the most marvelous suit imaginable.  But his sleigh was on the float (which was actually constructed on the back of a flatbed truck) with Santa’s back to the cab of the truck.  In other words, Santa was flying down Wayne Road backwards.  Kinda like getting the cart before the horse, but with a sleigh . . . and reindeer . . .

Now, my dad used to have a small station wagon with a third row of seats that sat back to back with the second row, so anyone riding there was looking at where they’d been instead of where they were going.  I only occupied that seat one time—on the road to and from Cades Cove in the Smokey Mountains.  I can’t begin to tell you how sick I was by the time we returned and I promised myself if I just survived the trip I would never again make that mistake.  I’m hoping Santa had a stronger stomach than I did, and that the lack of curves on the journey led to a lack of motion sickness on his part.

I’m sure there was a perfectly logical explanation for the position of the sleigh.  Perhaps the cab of the truck served as a shield from the wind, or maybe they could better secure the sleigh by placing it up against the cab instead of on the end of the bed.  Or maybe they got it all ready and realized it was backwards when there wasn’t enough time to change it.  Whatever the reasoning, it didn’t detract from Santa’s appearance or the excitement felt by the small children in attendance.  It just made people like me wonder why.

I get that a lot some days—that wondering why thing—and it seems lately we’re doing more pondering and head-shaking at the home than we once did.  Families will walk through our doors already distressed over losing someone they love, but now even more so because someone in the crowd has decided the worldly possessions of the deceased are up for grabs, and they’ve started removing valued family heirlooms from the house . . . or cash from the bank . . . or items from the safe deposit box because “Mama wanted me to have that”.  Maybe she did, but I’m not sure I understand the need to confiscate someone’s material possessions before we’ve taken the time to honor their memory and celebrate their life.  People are more than what they have accumulated in this world and, although the material possessions have to be dealt  with at some point, that point really shouldn’t be until after the funeral when everyone is ready to tackle the task and in agreement as to how said task should be tackled.

Unfortunately, there isn’t much that can be done to change those people who feel entitled to take what they want with no regard to other family members or the loss they have suffered.  Greed often rears its ugly head at the most inappropriate times, and death is perhaps the most inappropriate time of all.  Oh, you can notify the bank so the accounts are protected and you can change the locks so great-granddaddy’s picture from 1872 doesn’t disappear from the nail it’s occupied for the last 50 years, but then the person you are trying to deter will probably accuse you of doing the very thing you wish to prevent.  The love of money will fracture a family faster and more easily than anything else when Death comes to call.  How sad it is when someone puts the cart before the horse . . . or the sleigh before the reindeer . . . and focuses on what’s in it for them instead of what is no longer theirs to hold.

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