2022 was a sad year for our world. 

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In his "Urbi et Orbi"—his annual Christmas address to the world—Pope Francis spoke of "the famine of peace," imploring people to not get distracted by "shallow holiday glitter," but to help the refugees, the impoverished and the suffering. "Let us see the faces of all those children who, everywhere in the world, long for peace."

Well, it's that time again. With yet another year running down the clock on its final days and hours, it's time to turn our minds to the questionable personal glory—or downright shame—of how our world lived during 2022. I must say, it would be great if I could find a way to distract myself from the constant deluge of news on the horrifying condition of our world, but that would be a tall order.

Oh sure, there have been many past holiday seasons, particularly during the naïve years of my youth, when watching a rerun of a Hallmark Christmas film was sufficient distraction from the reality of world misery. Most of the time, that misery seemed so very far away. But in 2022, it was everywhere.

My guess is—and I realize it comes from the rather cynical perspective of someone cursed by age and a bit of accumulated wisdom—that only those with a certain flexibility in their honesty will be truly proud of themselves, their country or their world, considering the current condition of mankind.

The short of it is, with the level of deprivation, displacement, death and inconceivable suffering in our world, it is not even within the realm of possibility that anyone can look at the departure of 2022 and seriously make the statement: "It's a wonderful life." Even banker James Stewart—alias George Bailey—would have to admit, despite some scant evidence of a persistent core of human decency, that we live in a world heavily influenced by a pervasive presence of evil.

For a relative few, their careful introspection may reveal their legitimate claims to angel wings and a well-attended beatification rite at the Vatican. But most, applying some rudimentary honesty to the exercise, will understand that they fell a bit short—not quite solidly on Santa's good list and edging, just a titch, toward the naughtier, typically-human qualities of mankind's persistent preoccupation with self-serving pursuits.

Some will gloat in their generous outlays on the Sunday offering plate. Others may swell with pride that they loaded the family station wagon with their now-unused discards and headed down to the local Goodwill store—yet experiencing just a tinge of guilt, that getting rid of their junk was not, in fact, a particularly charitable motivation.

Could it be that the focus was much more on annual house-cleaning, rather than on genuine concern for the societal outcasts, who—some by their own, mentally-disturbed, choosing, or others as victims of some truly awful misfortunes—would have difficulty even imagining the joy of a warm hearth and a full tummy?

Those visions are a world away from those of our brothers and sisters who, with the most tenuous glimpses of a future, grasp at a tiny bit of hope, tenting under the city's highway overpasses or nestling within the insulative protection of a dumpster's refuse.

And sadly, the legitimate acts of kind charity, by people who see themselves as committed humanists, are frequently being offset by their own jump-on-the-bandwagon gouging of their business customers—suggesting that they're being forced, by inflation, to make some pricing adjustments—but fully understanding that unnecessary escalations in the prices of products and services are just another way to screw those who are already struggling to make ends meet.

Of course, there should have been glee, when dear ol' Santa lavished the good boys and girls with scads of delightful gifts. Looking at the sheer number of dollars spent on the world's Christmas gifts, one might conclude that the good kids far outnumbered the little monsters.

But I am personally aware of a few really bad kids who received lavish gifts, not the least of which is the Russian president. I understand that Mr. Putin, now a solid entry on the list of history's worst mass-murderers, gleefully described the death, suffering and paralyzing cold stoically endured by intrepid Ukrainians as "the best possible Christmas gift ever."

Any human being who actually believes and embraces the notion of Karma will inevitably be demoralized by the world's most corrupt people, soaking up the infrared light waves of their fireplaces, delighting as their own, mostly clueless children open the gifts that could have fed, clothed and provided a protective structure for so much of the world's tenderest refugees and foundlings—who hold in their minds only a faint glimmer that they may see the people they love once again.

I don't think I've ever ended my journalistic year quite this way, and I apologize for any of you whom I've plunged into a dark depression. But, as it's been noted by those brave journalists who've attempted to bring us the truth about our world, there was little to celebrate in 2022. Perhaps the cyanide capsules, buried within tasty chocolate truffle stocking-stuffers of the living devils of our world, will give us reason for a brighter outlook.

My hope is that my next holiday opinion column will leave you all with a brighter outlook. It's up to all of us. Let's do our best to have a different world in 2023.

The author is a retired novelist, columnist and former Vietnam-era Army assistant public information officer. He resides in Riverton with his wife, Carol, and the beloved ashes of their mongrel dog.