Commentary It was unseasonably cold as my wife, daughter, and I emerged from a downtown Nasvhille restaurant where we had been enjoying a Christmas Eve dinner. All was quiet. That rarity in the South, a gentle snow, was drifting down, reflected in the Christmas lights of the neighboring buildings. It was almost magical. You could forget for the moment the unremitting misery that was annus horribilis 2020, particularly bad in my adopted Music City home that suffered not just the pandemic but a destructive tornado in March. Roughly 6:30 the next morning, Xmas itself, only a few blocks away from where we ate, the massive blast occurred that most of you have seen pictures and videos of today. We had driven straight past the location on the way home, right down Second Street. Needless to say, our Xmas plans have shifted to a day in front of the television watching …