Baby, It's Cold Outside!

I confess to a passion for music of the Big Band era.  My mother had a huge collection of old 78 records that she played continuously when I was in utero, in the playpen, and throughout the time I was growing up. Big Band music was the soundtrack to my childhood.  Although we periodically argued about whose music was the best, the old stuff worked its way into my blood. ("There will never be anyone like Sinatra." She wins.  "The Beatles' music won't last five years." I win.)

As corny as it may seem, I think in lines to those old songs, and tonight I would be thinking, "Baby, it's cold outside."  Since the snow stopped yesterday, the wind has blown ferociously.  The wind-chills were at -6 degrees Fahrenheit (-22 Celsius) at high noon today.  Once again, I think about Alexander ("Expecting the Unexpected," 12/14/13,) and others like him who are homeless.  Baltimore, just north of Washington, has a "Code Blue," which means that it is cold enough that the homeless are being rounded up to keep them from freezing to death.

But tonight that isn't where I am going.  As I think about "Baby, It's Cold Outside," I just found myself going to contentment.  I thought about a fire roaring in a fireplace, a glass of wine, and curling up on the sofa with someone special.  In that moment, time stands still for the contented. 

Contentment seems not only increasingly rare in our culture, but an almost denigrated quality.  If we are contented, there is the implication that we don't have ambition or goals: we should be making something happen. I prefer to think that we can really be in joy--enjoy--what we have earned and what we are fortunate to have.  Perhaps contentment is the ultimate act of gratitude--appreciation of what has come our way.

So, tonight as the wind blows, I will sink into my contentment with my apartment which has good heat, an evening that I can just relax, and a long-awaited movie that has just arrived from Netflix. For now, I will just be...contented.