There's an old joke about Unitarians that I think applies equally to neo-Pagans.
		It goes like this:  Unitarians are so fond of having any cause for celebration, 
		they celebrate everyone's holidays.  Thus we are blessed to know Jollity, 
		Goddess of Every Possible Holiday.


			It's that time of year, after all.  Can't you just feel the excitement in the air,
		the quiver of anticipation?  Down on Main Street, everyone in town has gathered,
		singing in front of shops on which lights flash and twinkle.



			And here comes Jollity, perched on top of her rolling pink throne, bubbles
		blowing behind her.  Dressed in cloth of cold and pink, with elbow-length satin 
		gloves and a feather boa, Jollity waves her starry wand at one and all.  The crown
		upon her head is tall and sparkly, and a banner across her bosom proclaims, in
		scarlet letters, she is Miss Congeniality.



		 	Arrayed round her rolling throne are a holiday tree bedecked with twinkling lights, 
		tinsel, multicolored ribbons, a pinata in the shape of a frog, dozens of painted
		eggs, and bushels of glittery glass balls.  Wire garlands in a rainbow of colors whip
		and wave in the breeze, and Jollity flings nosegays and bridal posies in every direction.



			Behind the rolling throne marches the New Year dragon, carrying dreidels and gelt, 
		candles and pots of shamrocks, flowers and a basket of first fruits, and beautifully
		wrapped gifts for all.  The gifts are tossed in heaping handfuls and armfuls to 
		spectators by Jollity's helpers, the elves and the grandmothers and the inventors.  Some
		spectators jump in front of other spectators to catch the gifts.  Others, more polite, 
		hand them off to those standing behind them.



			Behind the dragon marches the brass band and the proud civic spirits, holding their 
		banners and tasseled hats.  They try to shake hands with every spectator and kiss every 
		babe.



			In good order follows Jollity's little red wagon, heaped with the Holiday food - cakes 
		and ice cream, golden roast turkey, succulent ham, roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, apple 
		and peach cobbler, pumpkin and mince pies, lamb and flat bread, hummus and tabouli, stuffed
		grape leaves, chicken soup with matzah balls and potato latkes, tamales and turkey mole, and
		exquisite noodles and sauces and spices from every land.  Grandfather hurls the edible gifts 
		of Jollity into the crowd.  Some of the people catch these gifts.  Some of the people
		throw them at other people.  Some people fling them back.  You have to be very good at ducking.



			Near the end of the Parade comes another marching band with about seventy trombones, and 
		at last we can see the flowery last floats of princesses and princes, wizards and prophets, 
		winning sports teams, and the civic officials.  Some of these people, having no food to throw, 
		toss articles of clothing into the rows of spectators.



			Jollity's parade has given us an entire day of celebration.  Night has fallen and flashy 
		sparkles fill the skies above us and rise into the sky.  And - guess what - after the mess is 
		cleaned up, they'll do it again, tomorrow and the next day and the next, to the last
		holiday of recorded time.



				Jollity, goddess cheerful and great,
				give us every excuse to celebrate.

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