In the past, Epiphany has evoked for me many things beyond the charming tale of the three wise men (the assistant magus, the associate magus, and the full magus as Garrison Keillor once told the story) paying homage to the newborn king of the Jews.  As an English major, I was taught to associate an epiphany with James Joyce, but came also to celebrate it as the birthday of two close friends, Sandy in Virginia and Marianne in Munich, as well as the beginning of Carnival season in New Orleans with its traditional weekly round of king cakes. And, of course, one of Shakespeare’s sweetest, funniest, most poignant plays about (among other things) patient, devoted, selfless love finally rewarded: Twelfth Night.

In the past two years, however, Twelfth Night has conjured not the Christmas revels of happy times, but the January 6 insurrection, the domestic equivalent of 9/11, a shameful, painful day on which our hard-won democracy nearly toppled.  And now, this 6 January, that date evokes a tale of TWO insurrections, this one internal and conducted by the wing nut Republicans on a 4^th day of the House’s failure to elect a speaker and begin conducting the nation’s business.  As I type this the House has just completed its 13^th ballot, with McCarthy falling three votes short of the gavel.  I quail at the concessions he has made to the lunatic fringe of his party.  Of the 147 Republicans who initially voted to overturn the 2020 presidential election results, many remain in the House divided, including Kevin McCarthy, himself an election denier.  So, McCarthy’s humiliating struggle to become Speaker grows less and less reason for schadenfreude as he moves closer and closer to attaining his goal.

There is, however, an enjoyable, almost Dante-esque contrapasso in the current proceedings, with this sinner’s crime against elections earning him an equal and fitting punishment.  As Jon Stewart apparently tweeted this morning, this is CNN’s Best Season Ever!

Me, I’ll be enjoying the last night of our library illuminated by 2022’s Christmas trees, one decorated with ornaments collected over many years and one with cards from friends far and near.  And, perhaps, I’ll have that last piece of Danish kringle from Wisconsin as a special, celebratory dispensation from new year’s resolutions on this snowy Twelfth Night.