I anledning twelfth night, eller helligtrekongers aften, som er i dag, eller i aften, blåser vi støvet av en av de fine balladene («O Mistress Mine») fra Shakespeares gamle tragikomiske mesterverk av samme navn. På bildet over sitter Ben Kingsley (fra filmen Twelfth Night) på kirketrappa og skal kanskje til å synge nevnte sang? Så tenn juletreet for siste gang, folkens, og stem i:

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear: your true-love’s coming,
That can sing both high and low:
That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers’ meeting,
Every wise man’s son doth know.

What is love? ‘Tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What’s to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty:
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

To those who in all times have sought truth and who have told it in their art or in their living, who died in honor.

To those of all times who have sought truth and who failed to tell it in their art or in their lives, and who now are dead.

To those who died in the high and humble knowledge of God … young children and those of hurt mind; and to all saints unsainted.

To those unremembered who have died in no glory of peace nor hope nor thought of any glory:  to those who died in sorrow, and in kindness, and in bravery; to those who died in violence suddenly, and to all that saw not death upon them; to those who died virgin, or barren; to those who died in the time of the joy of their strength; to those who took their own lives into the earth; to those who died in deadly sin.

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Noen fester som kjent lengre enn andre, men nå er jula endelig over for i fjor — også her i Hesselbergs gate.

«It snowed on Christmas night. We walked to Times Square to see the white billboard proclaiming WAR IS OVER! If you want it. Happy Christmas from John and Yoko. It hung above the bookstall where Robert bought most of his men’s magazines, between Child’s and Benedict’s, two all-night Diners. Looking up, we were struck by the ingenuous humanity of this New York City tableau. Robert took my hand and as the snow swirled around us I glanced at his face. He narrowed his eyes and nodded in affirmation, impressed to see artists take on Forty-Second Street. For me it was the message. For Robert, the medium … The sixties were coming to an end. Robert and I celebrated our birthdays. Robert turned twenty-three. Then I turned twenty-three. The perfect prime number. Robert made me a tie rack with the image of the Virgin Mary. I gave him seven silver skulls on a length of leather. He wrore the skulls. I wore the tie. We felt ready for the seventies.»

Fra Just Kids av Patti Smith.

«27. DECEMBER: Måndag. Vi hade en underbar julhögtid. Julafton sexton personer här på middag. Den äldste var nittitvå och den yngste tretton. Julia somnade i sin vackra klänning i vilstolen. Det känns som om det var den siste julaftonen i den här lägenheten. Det var en stor fest av ljus och glädje. Både linda och Nelly var med … Vi sov til halv tolv på juldagen. När vi vaknade hade Nelly diskat all disk. Sedan gick vi i snömodden när det redan hade skymt och såg Woody Allens Melinda & Melinda halv fem. Det var en ljuvlig dag. Det var så vackert i lägenheten. Jag sov en timme på eftermiddagen. Det är snö, kring noll, få människor, några som kommer hem med paket och i mörka kläder … Jag fick så fina vackra presenter av Nelly. Hon hade stoppat in all disk i maskinen när vi vacknade på juldagsmorgonen. Det har varit underbart at ha alla här. Jag saknar dem, jag saknar det.»

Fra En dramatikers dagbok av Lars Norén.

«God jul», sier Flammebøkene, kanskje finner du dem under treet, kanskje ikke, kanskje finner du dem til neste år, kanskje ikke. God jul, i alle fall! Fra alle dem, til alle deg.

Lille julaften, 1967: «Laurdag. På handel. Alt skal gjerast til jol. – Elles snjofòk.»

Første juledag: «Til Vambheim til middag. Etterpå lesnad … Heim seint. Kveikte uppatt i kaminen, og la meg.»

Andre juledag: «Kaldt. Klart. Snø og godt skiføre. Jau, ho er vøtraleg, Ulvik, ein slik dag.»

Tredje juledag: «Snjo. Kaldt. Kanskje litt linnare mot kvelden. Retteleg ei gamaldags jol. Lese ein heil del i dag.»

Fra dagbøkene til Olav H. Hauge.

Høytid også på treningssenteret: siste trim før ribbe og stappe og pølser og akevitt.

Litt sistelitenhandling blir det alltid og i kø på Norli bokhandel i Universitetsgata la vi plutselig merke til hva kunden foran oss kjøpte: debutsamlinga til vår egen Victoria Durnak — Stockholm sier — og vi ville bare si: Vi er veldig glad i deg, Kunden Foran Oss.

Julaften, 1956: «David, very obliging and tender as he prepares for bed, whereupon this dialogue. ‘What if God never made the world?’ I: ‘Then we wouldn’t be. That would be too bad, wouldn’t it?’ He: ‘Wouldn’t be? Not even Moses?’ I: ‘How could anyone be, if there weren’t a world to be in?’ He: ‘But if there  wasn’t a world, where would God be?’ I: ‘God exists before the world. He isn’t a person or a thing.’ He: ‘Then if God isn’t a person, why did he have to rest?’ I: ‘well, the bible speaks of God as a person, because that’s the only way we can imagine God. But he isn’t really a person.’ He: ‘What is he? A cloud?’ I: ‘He is not any thing. He’s the principle behind the whole world, the ground of being, everywhere.’ He: ‘Everywhere? In this room?’ I: ‘well, why not? Sure.’ He: ‘Is God good?’ I: ‘Oh, yes.’ He: ‘Is God the goodest thing there is?’ I: ‘That’s just right. Goodnight.’

Fra dagbøkene til Susan Sontag.