For those who rail against the darkness, the solstice is nigh

A reader called to tell me how he had helped four high school girls, cold and scared, move their stalled car out of traffic during last week's megastorm. I love heart-warming tales this time of year. Pity this wasn't one of them.

Seems another driver pulled up to our Good Samaritan and shouted a charitable, "Move your truck, dumb a--."

"What happened to Minnesota Nice?" our reader asked in frustration.

Oh, dear. It's bitterly cold, driving on narrowed roads feels like having a luge on wheels, and the best idea of the week is a first-come, first-served, alcohol-free outdoor Vikings game. It's true, Minnesotans. We are a cranky lot.

Fortunately, we can take solace in the solstice.

Tuesday, Dec. 21, is the shortest day, also known as the longest night, of the year. After that, it can only get better, right?

Bridget Donahue believes it. For 13 years, Donahue has hosted a winter Solstice party in the back yard of her home in Shorewood. The idea began when Donahue was feeling pretty cranky herself. In 1998, she noticed she was developing a disorder she calls "Velcro butt," in which she had no energy to get off her living room sofa.

When she couldn't get her doctor to prescribe "two weeks in Florida," she shifted to Plan B, inviting family and friends to gather to celebrate the fact that, "on Dec. 21, it doesn't get any worse after that."

After researching customs here and in Ireland, she became more drawn to the idea of honoring the winter solstice. "It's not about family traditions or obligations or gift-giving. It's about the sun returning and life beginning again."

Donahue emphasizes she is not a witch, and she won't be dancing around a fire naked. "This is an opportunity to celebrate the season in a common, reflective way," she said.

As many as 60 people have attended her solstice celebration, including Christians and Jews, and others who have guided her to incorporate Native American and Celtic traditions. They're all ages and professions, too, including a lawyer, a social worker and a union rep. They come with food and wine, participate in a play and sing songs.

Then Donahue's husband, Paul Borgeson, lights up the sky with some cool pyrotechnics.

Rena Rogers didn't wait until Tuesday. She hosted her third annual solstice party Saturday night. More than 40 people gathered for soup and conversation in Minneapolis.

"Sometimes people are so busy that they forget what's important," Rogers said.

If you can't imagine throwing, or hosting, another party, the Three Rivers Park District is offering another opportunity. From 6:30 to 8 p.m. Tuesday, several area parks are sponsoring "a beautiful walk in the moonlit woods. Enjoy hot cocoa and treats after your walk." (For information, go to www. threeriversparkdistrict.org or call 763-559-6700.)

And if you'd rather do nothing more than sit Velcroed to your couch, consider these lovely words that Rogers wrote to friends in her annual solstice missive (and, please, do keep them in mind when you're out in traffic):

"The ancient folks of the northern tiers of the earth understood that this dark time was meant for contemplation, a time to connect to your deepest soul and bring forth the light. So I look forward to this time every year, this simple, quiet activity of finding light in the darkness. It spills over to the rest of the year as a daily metaphor, because there is no shortage of darkness (or light) in the world."