INVARIABLY, when the Holidays approach, I become clumsy. Why, I’ve no idea, but it’s like a holiday ritual; something, I can count on, like taxes in January, but much more pleasant. Not that I resent paying my fair share to keep the USA, well, American, and my neighborhood worth living. No, I don’t resent taxes or the Holiday clumsies (by March and tax payment, I’m no longer clumsy). They’re just little hooks upon which I can hang my Christmas and New Year’s feelings on, while I g...