There is no simple way to say this: dejected by the awareness of being alone. And I know the real meaning here. I played it on the harmonica a few times before going out into the rain tonight. Then I stepped into that big car I drive after promising myself I'd drink only one of the usual mix I ingest this time of year.

It was "alone at movie" night, for those who played that tune one time too many. The theater was showing the same Christmas-holiday movie. And I really know the script and characters well by now: little Win, big P, Cosmo, Jaunty-Joe the hound—usually all in bad moods! (Bah, humbug?) 'Party-Patty,' my girlhood friend, asked to join me but I refused—said I wouldn't be a true loner if she tagged along.

After the show started, there were parts of the movie I didn't seem to remember. My recollections were that all the major characters never had family to love, special friends, big brothers or sisters. Never sought out faithful, romantic relationships or demonstrated neighborly acts. And never performed good-doggie rituals. But the big screen this Christmas told another story. (G-d, I swear this was not the same pic I saw last year, or the years before!)

In this year's version, little Win loves her sister and praises mom and dad for all they've done. Big P denounces affairs and seeks out a wife to love ever more. Cosmo, the usually wretched next-door neighbor, has only good things to say and promises to keep an eye out when folks are out of town. Jaunty-Joe, hound-dog extraordinaire, bites no more!

Was this a hallucination?

I left the theater and drove the big car home, pondering the new experience. I called Patty and invited her over. She came. And for the first time ever, we really TALKED, and talked, and talked. Not about all the sex parties she was known to host as a teenager when her parents left her alone, but, instead, about tight-knit families, and love and goodness, and sharing and faith, and honesty. Was this the new light I saw things in because of the movie? There seemed no dejection or aloneness here. Almost a virgin feeling for me.

I told Patty I promised to lead a new life. See things differently. Respond to invitations. Hold get-togethers. Spend time with friends. Listen. Respect. Remember truths. I'd now venture out with a new harmonica song—one of hope and affirmation. Leave the dejected life behind!

Ah, perhaps it was that new mix—the one-drink minimum—that brought some sense out in me. I might need another one of those.