Christmas is a special time when madness invades the homestead and the urge to give and give and give and, well, you get the picture. But what are these gifts with which we hold these truths to be self evident? One year, a very long time ago, it was a special little baby I found in a cabbage patch. At least, that’s what is said on the label. When the blue light went on – and yes, there really <i>was</i> a blue light - I, along with all the other shoppers in that alphabet-mart, went careening through the aisles like so many pinballs driven in reverse until we converged at the same single spot. A towering monument of pastel packaged Cabbage Patch dolls had just been unwrapped. We, one man and host of hostile woman, were the chosen ones. We each grabbed. I got one. Studying her, my little rainbow coalition brown Jolene, asleep with her eyes open, waiting for the moment when her child would hold her and bring her to life.