It really is a 'Wonderful Life'

My sister and I have a long-standing Christmas feud.While it

would be logical to assume it stems from the fact that she once trampled me on

Christmas morning in order to get to the new dollhouse Santa had left for her,

it in fact centers around the film "It's  a Wonderful Life."

See, I'm of the opinion that this is one of the premier

Christmas movies ever made, and she thinks it's astoundingly depressing.

I'll admit there's some truth to her argument. When George

Bailey finally comes home after losing the building-and-loan money and yells at

his daughter to stop playing the piano, I cringe, even though I know it's

coming. This movie is packed with fear and anger and sadness; there's even a

suicide attempt. Sure, she admits, the payoff is good — "My mouth's bleedin',

Bert! My mouth's bleedin'!" — it's just not worth the hours of depression it

takes to get there.

And that's where we disagree. To my mind, that payoff is so

fantastic — and I tear up every time Jimmy Stewart opens the book and reads

Clarence's inscription —  not in spite of all the hard stuff he

had to endure to get there, but rather because of it.

Granted, this is just a movie we're talking about, but the

concept is one I've been thinking about a lot lately in the context of real

life.

I thought about it last night as I sat and watched fat

snowflakes fall from the sky, making even my very prosaic view of rooftops, an

alley and the Dan Ryan Expressway seem soft and festive. Of course, that

beautiful snow also makes my commute cold and wet. It forces me to spend lots of

time and energy digging my car out of the drifts the snow plows create on the