I Love Christmas...I Don't Know What Your Problem Is.
In defense of a holiday you probably don't like.
It’s Christmas time again. And, as usual, I’m broke. Not broke in the sense that me and mine can’t afford food or lodging. The presents are getting bought, joy will be had by all (mostly), and the US economy - aka, the Great Machine into Which We all Must Feed - will be briefly sated by my family’s contribution. We’re much more fortunate than a lot of folks. But we are a bit strapped. This is nothing new. I don’t remember the last time I felt flush, let alone financially comfortable, during “the most wonderful time of the year”.
Years ago, at the end of my 13th semester of college, I remember stopping at an ATM to pull out a little cash. I was on a date with my most recent girlfriend. Wisely, I checked the balance first: $3.14. Sure it was the 90s but that wouldn’t buy a Big Mac. Turns out that relationship didn’t last long. She dumped me that New Year’s Eve. I won’t blame that on the bank balance, exclusively, but when you don’t rate better than 6.2 on the hotness scale (charitably) a lack of cash seldom helps.
This isn’t the only issue I’ve had over the holidays. During my half-a-generation of post-secondary education, the fall semester was consistently my worst. Consequently, I was never sure whether my esteemed university would invite me back for the spring semester. For some silly reason I let this become a source of stress. Of course, it all worked out eventually. Trust me, I still have the student loan debt to prove it.
The point is I could have let Christmas overwhelm me, become a source of anxiety, and completely destroy my faith in the gentle hand of late-stage capitalism. But the fact remains. I love Christmas, always have. I really don’t know what your problem is.
My love of Christmas undoubtedly came from my childhood. Which, coincidently, is probably when you acquired your disdain. My Christmas upbringing was damned-near idyllic. Growing up in Kansas City, the end of the year was like living in Christmas Town from ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’. The whole city celebrated with lights, decorations, toy drives, and seasonal charity commercials that I still remember word for word. Every Thanksgiving night the city lit up (and still does) the Country Club Plaza in midtown. It’s a massive event where thousands of people show up to cheer for the beginning of the holidays. Winter was cold (as it should be). We didn’t always get snow for Christmas but it happened from time to time and every holiday show or movie felt like it could have happened in my home town. Sadly, you probably grew up in Fresno, CA where it never snows and they outlawed fun back in ‘79.
Growing up, our house was filled with decorations, the smell of homemade fudge, soft colored lights, and warmth. Not to mention a big tree with festively wrapped gifts that seemed to multiply by the day leading up the the main event. As the youngest of six - by nearly nine years - I’m guessing my experience with Christmas was unique in my family. I got the best toys. There was the Six Million Dollar Man, Stretch Armstrong, and the Batmobile (with the Batman) in the 70s. These classics were followed up strong by the Millennium Flacon, Optimus Prime, and the GI Joe Hovercraft in the 80s. Honorable mention goes to my first bike, of course. Now, before you go on thinking that my love of Christmas somehow stems from my family being wealthy and buying me lots of cheap plastic junk (which I loved), allow me to disabuse you of that notion. We were certainly not wealthy. I never got a whole lot during the year. Occasionally, my parents would spring for a $2.99 Star Wars action figure if I whined enough. The big stuff, however, was reserved for Christmas and my birthday. I admit that I did seem to get significantly more gifts than the rest of my siblings, but I just assumed they had awful tastes and didn’t like cool things. They call me spoiled. I call me fortunate. You were probably a middle child in a massive household who was routinely forgotten at home when your family took trips to Europe for the holidays.
Here’s something you’re not gonna believe, but I promise is absolutely true. For some fantastical reason, Santa Claus showed up about 12 hours early every year at our house. That’s right. We got our presents…wait for it…on Christmas Eve! What?!?! Unbelievable, right? I wouldn’t have believed it either if it didn’t happen to us. every. year. We would finish Christmas Eve dinner - usually brisket, lasagna, and cool whip covered strawberry jello - and go downstairs to the basement until after Santa arrived. There we’d listen to classic Christmas tunes like Cheech and Chong’s ‘Santa Claus and his Old Lady’, Bob and Doug’s ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’, and my brother’s stirring rendition of ‘Ladle Rat Rotten Hut’. Before we knew it, we were called upstairs again - after Santa left, of course - to open presents. You probably woke up way too early one Christmas morning, accidentally got a peek of the Big Man, and Bro hasn’t shown up since. That’s rough.
To be fair, some of my Christmas joy had to do with my birthday falling on the penultimate day of the year. Yeah, I know, most people are like:
Dude, that sucks. Everybody ends up mixing your Christmas gifts with birthday gifts so you get less stuff.
Not true, amigo. My parents were very understanding and careful not to blow off my birthday just because they’d bought me an Atari 2600 five days earlier. Might I have received more had I been born in June? Maybe. But I never noticed. And though I hate to admit it, it’s possible it was never about the gifts anyway. Though that does seem unlikely.
The best part of being born nearly six months after Jesus’ actual birthday is that the whole Christmas to New Years week was like one big party; seven days of celebration and almost no responsibilities. Who has two thumbs and never, ever went to school on his birthday? This guy!
Okay, okay. If you were born any time between June 1st and August 25th you probably didn’t go to school on your birthday either. But I never worried about having to go to summer school camp on my birthday. There was no Boy Scouts or 4-H or any other time sucking, get him out of the house bullshit to deal with. It was winter, glorious winter. You probably had to endure being the center of attention with lots of gifts and cake for an entire day that no one forgot about because it wasn’t bumped right up against New Year’s Eve.
Beyond the parties, it really was the entire season for me. The Winter Solstice, the death of one year and the birth of another; historically, a fantastic time for ghost stories. As Soul, we don’t worry about such things. Time truly is irrelevant. But as human beings there is a natural cycle that just feels right. We collectively experience it, and it’s comforting to know we all celebrate/endure it together. The Christians really knew what they were doing when they decided to co-op the season for Jesus’ birthday. You probably hate the cold and celebrate Daylight Saving Time like a bona fide crazy person.
Personal reasons aside, think about all we’d miss had Christmas never been invented. For example, the Grinch’s heart would still be two sizes too small. Granted, his heart growing to three times it’s original size in the span of a few seconds certainly resulted in an extraordinary increase in his chances for an adverse cardiac event, but he did stop abusing his dog.
Without Christmas, we wouldn’t have a red-nosed reindeer. We’d never learn that it’s okay to be different just as long as you bring a unique skill set to the table that fuels corporate growth in our supply-side, consumer-driven economy. You know, the same way tech bros feel about immigrants.
Without Christmas, thousands of young women from the professional managerial class would never have returned to their hometown, fallen in love with their ex-boyfriend turned lumberjack, and learned the true inner workings of the heart. Not to mention experience the transformational power of Cottagecore.
Without Christmas, John McClane would have never stopped Hans Gruber from stealing $650 million in bearer bonds during the Nakatomi Plaza Christmas Party. Do you really think John would have shown up to just any holiday party to reunite with his estranged family? C’mon. Yeah, so Gruber would have made a statement crippling a massive corporation that probably had a hand in causing at least three different economic recessions. But at least John and Holly got back together.
Okay, so Christmas isn’t perfect. And I’m sure many of you aren’t nearly as happy with it as I am. It’s fine, no judgement. Perhaps you don’t celebrate for religious reasons. That’s perfectly legitimate too. But if Christmas isn’t your thing, find a holiday that is. Any holiday will do. Look for any reason to bring people together. Make up an excuse to skip work and make dinner with and for a couple of dozen weirdos you call ‘family’. Arbor Day works. Last Friday in April. Perfect time for all you Spring lovers out there. It’s wide open. Most people don’t even know it exists.
Whatever you do, find something that works for you. Make up a holiday if you need to. Heaven knows we could use more days off. This entire country needs to relax. Right now, most people are clenched so tight that it’s a wonder they aren’t all crapping diamonds. Besides, it’s not about the gifts. It’s not about the shopping. It’s not about the sales or even that infusion of cash that keeps our entire economy from falling off the fiduciary cliff of neo-liberal policy. It’s about us and the people that help make us who we are. It’s about family, friends, and the love that binds us together. So whatever you choose, whichever day you prefer, I’m on board. Just let me know, and I’ll be there. That said, if you still have it in your heart, I’d like to wish you a very merry Christmas and a fantastic start to the new year.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve go a couple of pounds of brisket and a 6”x6” slab of lasagna to plow through before Santa shows up. Christmas may be wonderful, but it ain’t always easy.
For reference, I didn’t believe it.