Thank You, and Merry Christmas

Today is Christmas. A day which, for many years, I hated and rejected as the time “responsible” for taking my father from me.

Much time and energy went into that scorn, and many a lovely time was nipped in the bud for hate’s sake. For that, I most humbly apologize and beg forgiveness from every soul whose Holiday I darkened and whose feelings I hurt.

I never thought I would have or deserve a Merry Christmas, hard though many folks tried to give me one.

All of that changed sixteen years ago.

It wasn’t instantaneous. Not like all-of-a-sudden 1999 was the brightest Christmas in my memory. But it was a shift. A shift in perspective that saw me thinking that maybe, just maybe, Christmas didn’t have to suck.

Each Christmas since has been better and more glorious than the one before. Now I look forward to the season with joy and vigor in my heart. And this year, Jacquelynn, my personal Reason For The Season’s Joy, is healed. Her foot has been surgically repaired and she’s almost fully recovered. No more giant hen’s egg-sized cyst (it was actually a benign leiomyoma tumor) driving her to agonized tears for hours every day. ¬† Santa brought my only real Christmas wish of the last fifteen years to us this year, and I couldn’t possibly be more grateful.


So to all of you, my Friends, Family, Followers, and Fans, on my personal page, my studio’s or my blog’s pages, and for my fellow seekers who join me on wordpress, I wish the Merriest Christmas (or whatever you celebrate this time of year, or even if you don’t celebrate at all) possible. I love you, and I thank you for being part of my life. I cherish your presence here, and I’m grateful that you’ve joined with me on my trip through this life.


I’ll see you all tomorrow, because I’m unplugging for today to spend it ALL with my lovely bride.


Matthew Jarrett

Thirty-Three Years

Thirty-three years. Thirty-three years gone and still you play a part in every day in my life and every decision I make. Not that you’d have agreed with them all, but you’d salute my ability to think for myself and be proud that I had.

I’m writing a book, you know, Dad. You’d like it, as you pretty much inspired it back when I was in seventh grade, when you gently took me to task for returning name calling with more of the same. Of course, you’d likely have preferred I kept my mouth shut and just slugged the kid who called me names, ending it right there. I’m not judging that, though; you were a product of your times, as are we all.

Now, as I begin my search for publishers, I encounter you more and more often in my dreams, and I can’t believe that’s by coincidence. Even as I wrote the dedication for the book, wherein you and Mom figure prominently of course, I felt you there, looking over my shoulder, and I could sense the sharp pinpricks of your tough, thick five-o’clock shadow as you kissed my cheek.

So today, on the thirty-third anniversary of your departure, I ask you for your guidance and your blessings as I embark on this monumental next step in my life. I don’t think anyone who knew me while you were here would have ever expected it, but I know you’ve been with me all along, and I’m grateful for your continued presence in my heart and my soul.

Thanks, Dad. I couldn’t do this without you.DAD

Ronald Lee Jarrett  January 22, 1935-December 20, 1982