With their variety of holidays, December and January form a season of presents. I’ve been thinking about a few simple gifts our pained world needs. Here’s one:

You could read this sign as an admonition, a short of “shhh” to shelled species who aren’t all that noisy anyway. But I prefer to think of Turtle Pond as A Quiet Zone for thinking. The gift of reflection.

Food’s on my list, too. Not the pretentious, overpriced stuff on sale in my neighborhood’s food boutiques, but basics for the underfed:

Granted, the sign doesn’t specify what’s in the yard of food, but surely there’s some nutrition? I’m hoping the money the shop did not spend on a competent sign-writer went to quality ingredients. The gift of nourishment.

The next one’s more personal:

Who doesn’t need a Relationship Manager? Everyone I know, not to mention a number of governments, could benefit from understanding that our fates are intertwined. I fantasize that the Relationship Manager would deliver this message with in a firm, parental tone. Then, like chastened children, we’d slink back from the brink of destruction we’re currently dancing on. The gift of safety.

I end this post, and this year, with the gift I received last week. My family and I were at a holiday parade. We had arrived late and couldn’t penetrate the crowd. My six-year-old granddaughter had a great view of knees and coat hems but no chance of seeing the marchers. But then a boy in front — on crutches, perhaps ten years old — noticed her. Instantly he offered her his spot. There are good people in the world, I realized. He gave me the gift of hope.

May you have that, and more, in 2024.