A few nights ago, within the intimate, candle-lit living room of my brother’s family home, I hosted a Winteriade to mark both my fiftieth birthday and the launch of four new books. Outside, winter held the world in stillness; inside, we gathered as one might for a vigil—quietly, deliberately, with warmth drawn close. What began as a celebration unfolded as something older and more ceremonial: a keeping of winter together. . .