We finished it.
Every year we work hard to create a Dickens’ Village worthy of Disneyland and every year we come closer. This year was the best we have done and we are proud of our success. Of all tasks, it is one of the most useless. We are not creating great art, or art at all, and as recreation it can be frustrating! Yet the project is one of my favorite things to do with my good son Lewis.
He is the master engineer and uses his literature degree and classical education to create a meaningful city. You can understand a text by looking our Village, maybe. We discuss texts in any case along with politics, art, and education.
The very fact that the task is not important makes it enjoyable. Nothing hangs on it. If we did not build it, nobody would care, but us. We are happy with our small little project and when it is done it glows in a jolly way. You could come and see it, but don’t over expect. In fact, it is probably quite mockable, cheesy Department 56 kitsch, but we like it whether we should or not.
It is the time I am sure is least wasted in all my year, because we are making something, breaking things and fixing them, arguing and planning. This is most human, because it is play. It isn’t play constrained by a script like a video game. Nobody told us what to do with our structures and we feel free to mix and match pieces from several periods. Some years we try to recreate Victorian London and other years we just indulge our whimsy. We do what we will and when we are done, if we are happy, then our mission is accomplished.
The times are always serious and there is generally something important to do. The world is always serious, the flesh always demanding, and the devil loves to fill up our time with activity. The world hates play because it is not constrained by fashion. Nobody “plays” properly or by a societal code! The flesh hates play, because play is innocent and devils cannot understand play. Hell is always at war and losing a war is a serious thing.
When we play, nobody is hurt and we are helped. God is gloried by our child-like joy in small things and evil is held at bay. In our little London, there is no poverty and it is always Christmas. Scrooge is finding hope and Tiny Tim says: “God bless us . . . every one” as he did on the Muppets Christmas Carol. The Village is us: cheesy, sappy, hopeful, a bit absurd, but full of jollification.
I think there is a piece that could be moved.
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