In recent years giant inflatables have become popular.

Inflatables are available in myriad variety: Santas, Grinches, Snowmen, snow families, and of course Christmas minions, and the famous Christmas dragon with a Santa hat (because nothing says Christmas like a dragon!).

The inflatables look great and robust, and they can be massive -- until it snows!!

When my wife and I went out for a walk in the first snow of the season, we came across many of these inflatables in our neighborhood. And although I had assumed the fallen snow would only enhance their beauty and grandeur, every one of them was crushed under the weight of the snow. 

Santa was no longer jolly. The snowman was flattened.

The irony was not lost on me. 

The very season they promoted crushed them, and they could not stand up under its weight.

They were flattened by the season they represented.

I have many happy memories of taking my Mom to Manhattan at Christmas time to look at the department store windows.  I will never forget the windows one store had one year. The first window had a scroll which read, "The Smell of Christmas is in the Kitchen." The scene was an old-fashioned kitchen with a black stove and food cooking on it.

The second window was titled, "The Taste of Christmas is in the Dining Room." There was a long table laden with mouth-watering food.

The third window showed a beautiful tree decorated with ornaments and lights, little toys and popcorn strings. The scroll read, "The Color of Christmas is in the Tree."

The fourth window scroll said, "The Sound of Christmas is in the Carols." This scene was a group of animated figures singing Christmas carols.

Then came the store's main entrance. I noticed that, after passing those windows, most people went into the store to do Christmas shopping.  However, if you ignored the entrance and kept on going, you would have seen one more window. The scroll in this window proclaimed: "But the Heart and Soul of Christmas is Here!" In this window was a stable with shepherds, wise men, Joseph, Mary, and the baby Jesus lying in a manger. 

In1868, Bret Harte wrote a short story called “The Luck of Roaring Camp.” It turned Mr. Harte into an internationally known writer. The story was written about a mining town in California called Roaring Camp. The only woman in the town was a Cherokee named Sal. She became pregnant but died while giving birth to a son. This left a baby in a town full of single men. Not just men, but rough, tough, rude, crude men of the WILD west. What are THEY going to do with a baby?

The child was thought to be a sign of good fortune so they gave him the name Thomas Luck. They put him in a dirty box, wrapped in dirty clothes. But that didn’t look right, so they ordered a rosewood cradle with satin sheets and a soft pillow. The best room they had was filthy, so these men got on their knees and cleaned the floors and the walls. Then they decided that if they were going to take care of a baby, they needed to start using soap. They needed to wash their hands and bath more often. And then they said, “Maybe we don’t need to be gambling so much. Maybe we don’t need to be fighting so much. Maybe we don’t need to be drinking so much. And as the story progresses, the entire town of Roaring Camp was transformed by the arrival of a single baby boy.