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December 28 'Tis The Season..... Part 5 - The Ghost Of Christmas Yet To Come'I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.' said Scrooge. The Spirit answered not, but pointed onward with its hand....
.....Spirit of the Future, I fear you more than any spectre I have met tonight!
.....Wouldn't it be better if I just went home to bed?'
~ Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol)
COMING NEXT YEAR TO A BLOG NEAR YOU (or just re-read my ' 'Tis The Season ' series. I'm sure it will be exactly the same.
© 2006 'Tis The Season..... Part 4 - The Sound Of WindThe Christmas season has come to mean the period when the public plays Santa Claus to the merchants.
~John Andrew Holmes
Until one feels the spirit of Christmas, there is no Christmas. All
else is outward display--so much tinsel and decorations. For it isn't
the holly, it isn't the snow. It isn't the tree nor the firelight's glow.
It's the warmth that comes to the hearts of men when the
Christmas spirit returns again.
~Anonymous
Next to a circus there ain't nothing that packs up and tears out faster than the Christmas spirit.
~Kin Hubbard
There were only two things that I wanted for Christmas this year; they also happen to be the two things that I want every year. One of them I never get, the other is never denied me.
The one I will only ever dream about is to be able to sleep through the 25th. Doesn’t sound like much, but the problem for my family is that I would start my blessed snooze the day after Thanksgiving. And unlike the youngster who asks for the world to be waiting under the tree on Christmas morning, I was ok with knowing I wouldn’t get the full blown list; Christmas day would suite me just fine.
I could beg, cry, scream, do the puppy dog eyed look thing, but it is never to any avail; the proprieties must be observed. My wife in her usual tender and sensitive way tells me to ‘Suck it up and stop whining’. And so with ‘It’ sucked up and whining brought to a close (a promise to self of a nice healthy belt of scotch later and why not!) we, like the three wise men who two millennium before, follow that brightly lit star to the stables of our families bearing gifts. And yes; as it turns out, I have a good time after all. Getting with the family (both my wife’s and my own) is always a happy time; it is all the hubbub getting to this point in the journey that makes it seem so excruciating.
As I get older (and my wife gets younger) I also see that the painful days of H U G E gifts for my kids (that need to be transported in several trips or if the lord above has graced you, with a mini van) has been reduced down to late teenage level items appropriately transported in a couple of festive holiday bags. The torch has been passed and now my brother Version 2.0 and my brother in law Version 3.1, must trudge the booty back to their far off base camps.
As morning turns to afternoon and then to evening, the gifts are passed, the food and desserts consumed and the conversation of recent events and remembrances wrap up into what I come to realize is really the best gift that I could want; A time with family. For all the whining, bitching, agonizing, complaining and general malcontent that I weave about Christmas; when I sit at home in front of the lit tree in the quiet of the late evening (with promised scotch in hand), I re-discover that while there may have been no joy in the journey, the destination was as worth it all.
And then there is the gift I always get; December the 26th. Oh blessed day.
It is finally over. No more battling the roadways with frenzied shoppers whose kind of holiday cheer can be found in a terrorists handbook and most of all, no more twenty four hours a day on two thousand channels beamed into the core of my brain Christmas music. I mean come on, really, how many times and through how many different renditions can you listen to the same damned Christmas songs over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
No by God, it is over. The day after Christmas always seems to have a breeze to it that comes from out of nowhere to sweep clean the earth. It is the only sound that I can hear all day and it is as a symphony to my damaged ears. Oh yes, the merchants try to keep the momentum going with after Christmas sales and the New Years celebration one week later, but these are last gasps and they are hushed by the sound of wind.
December 13 'Tis The Season..... Part 3 - The Ghost Of Christmas PresentsOnce again, we come to the Holiday Season, a deeply religious time that each of us observes, in his own way, by going to the mall of his choice. ~Unknown
Once again we find ourselves enmeshed in the Holiday Season, that very special time of year when we join with our loved ones in sharing centuries-old traditions such as trying to find a parking space at the mall. We traditionally do this in my family by driving around the parking lot until we see a shopper emerge from the mall, then we follow her, in very much the same spirit as the Three Wise Men, who 2,000 years ago followed a star, week after week, until it led them to a parking space. ~Dave Barry
Cindy Lou Who: Santa, What’s Christmas really about?
The Grinch: Vengeance. I mean… presents, I suppose.
~From ‘How The Grinch Stole Christmas’ 2000
Internet shopping; YOU GOTZ TO LOVE IT!
I think by this time I have made it plainly known that the Christmas holiday is not on my list of things to live for. My wife, at this time of year, calls me Mr. Humbug. But at least one of the many things that make this holiday so trying for me has become a ghost of Christmas past.
For those of you who are generation ‘what-ever’, let me tell you a tale of the way it was way back in the olden days or yore. First the kids would make their lists of wants using what was known back then as a pencil and paper. No computers with fancy spell checking and printing; No emails with ready URL’s to guide woebegone parents to exactly what was needed. The child had to spell it out using the handwriting skills that Miss Crabapple taught them back in a school room where the most high tech doodad in sight was the pencil sharpener (manual operation of course). And even if the handwriting was perfect, with well spaced letters and faultless rounding of those bulgy letters like ‘B’ and ‘R’, half the time our parents didn’t know what the hell we were jabbering about. How many poor children ended up with Yahtzee or worse, simply because a parent couldn’t figure out what the hell a ‘Commander Gizmo with Flashing Laser Eyes and Crushing Kung-Fu Grip’ was. Who can blame a beleaguered parent for taking the lost in translation gift route. Even if the kid could point to the item on the ‘six-channel-not-including-UHF-rabbit-antenna ’ TV, all mom or dad could hear was ‘I want a blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, Yahtzee”. But for those parents who were in the know, it was the trumpet call of ‘LET THE GAMES BEGIN’.
You would hop into the car and head off to 150 different stores in a vain attempt to track down the items on the list that everyone else and their mother had on theirs too. The spirit of Christmas was alive as you hunted down a parking space; creeping along like a tiger stealth fully stalks its evening meal. A shopper loaded with bags is seen leaving the gates of hell -err- the mall. You watch your prey as they make their direction known and if necessary you make a course adjustment to intercept. As you are setting up for the kill, you can see just above the tall grass of cars around you that several other hunters have spotted your prey and are looking to make it their own. Depending on the ensuing scenario, if you are victorious, you would be the one to shrug off the slings and arrows (otherwise known as the flying middle finger) as a badge of honor; else, you will be the one to toss the universal cheer of the season only to begin your hunt again. When finally you entered the hallowed halls of shopping, and a new hunt in a new jungle would begin.
Your skill at cursing would become as a finely honed sword and your tolerance for mankind would sink to new lows. If people were allowed to be publicly armed at this time of year, we would never have to worry about an over population problem in this country; everything would rebalance itself around this blessed time of year.
And so, that part of the Humbuggery that I felt for this holiday has been eradicated by the cyber super-highway. Kids type their wants and email the list, complete with ‘I’m-so-stupid-but-look-I-can’t-go-wrong’ URL’s attached. Point, Click, Order, Pay, Logoff and let the goodies come flowing to me. For me, Santa is all decked out in brown and comes in a truck of the same color.
December 08 'Tis The Season..... Part 2 - Deck The HallsFor Christmas is tradition time-- Traditions that recall
The precious memories down the years, The sameness of them all. ~Helen Lowrie Marshall
Christmas is for children. But it is for grownups too. Even if it is a headache, a chore, and nightmare, it is a period of necessary defrosting of chill and hide-bound hearts.
~Lenora Mattingly Weber
"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful voice. "Bah!" said Scrooge. "Humbug!"
~Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol)
This past Sunday found me on my yearly pilgrimage to my roof to string icicle lights, garland and the big Christmas wreath around the house. I usually wait until the last possible moment to do this to the great irritation of my daughter who just gets so into Christmas. I swear this kid can’t be mine. Fortunately we were blessed in my neck of the woods with unusually warm weather for over a week, which would allow those smart enough to take advantage and set up their outside décor. I, as usual, did not fall into this category of people. So with cold winds blowing I did the time honored expected fatherly job and hung the lights up with care and to my credit, didn't wait until the eleventh hour to do this temporary festooning of the manor.
Now while I don’t really enjoy the holiday, I do enjoy working outside. The air was cold but very doable. And since my son was at work and my wife and daughter are not ones for anything colder than the short burst of air when opening the refrigerator, I was assured peace and quiet. Except for Ernie (my chimney top gargoyle and general protector of the home from squirrels), I was alone.
My wife, more interested in my safety and well being than for the complete decorating package, said that I should only do the lights and forget the rest. After twenty three years of marriage, this women knows me all too well and in knowing, knows that I MUST do the whole job even though I can’t stand the Ho-Ho-Ho (my curse word for the season). Still, cold weather not withstanding, she poped out every so often to make sure I haven’t fallen off the roof and if this was found to be true, to offer up a hot cup of tea.
“So why do I continue to do this?” I ask Ernie (who at that moment is keeping his eye on a squirrel making its way in our general direction through the branch maze of a nearby tree).
“More than likely because you like the pretty lights” he replies, “Or maybe because you don’t hate Christmas as much as you profess to”.
“What do you know, you’re a stone gargoyle”.
“Yeah, but I’m sitting on a warm and cozy chimney top while you are hanging over the roof in the cold wind hanging fakery off the house”.
Can’t argue a solid point like that!
And so, the wind continued to blow but at least it was a sunny day. The crows flew about and squawked as I made one hundred and three trips up and down the ladder because of this thing or that that I left up here or down there, and the never ending adjustments and straightening of this and that as the sun made it’s way from morning to evening. When all was said and done, it took longer then I expected it to (but it always does). Never the less, I was happy with the results and with just being able to keep to myself and my thoughts.
“Looks nice” cracked Ernie with a S#!^ eating grin on his face.
“Thanks for reminding me old friend, I almost forgot” I replied with a emerging grin of my own.
Last January when I was in the pet store, they had on sale a red Christmas stocking cap for a cat that I just couldn’t resist getting for that special someone. From out of my back pocket I dug out the cap and stuck it on Ernie’s head.
“Looks nice” I said with a S#!^ eating grin on my face.
“I will get you for this you know” he said.
“Ho-Ho-Ho” I replied.
As I headed down the ladder I could hear the squirrels in the tree laughing their bushy tailed asses off.
Decorating the outside of your house for the Christmas holiday
Wake up early in the morning and procrastinate as long as you can before you realize there is no way around it but to get off your butt and do it: 0 dollars.
Budget ten minuets to dig out the lights and whatnot’s and actually spend over an hour because you don’t remember where you put them when you quickly took them down last year before the big thunderstorm; in May: 0 dollars and an empty promise not to ever do that again.
Test each and every string of lights for outages and finding everything in working order: 0 dollars and a false sense of peace.
Spending another hour after hanging the string of lights to find the culprit that is keeping the string (that I previously tested) from now lighting:
0 dollars; a tapestry of curse words; a good healthy belt of scotch whiskey.
After all is done, standing outside in the evening darkness, the house warmly aglow with lights, a mug of hot cider in my hand and my wife with her arms around my waist, her head resting upon my chest and seeing the light reflecting in her eyes: PRICELESS
December 07 'Tis The Season..... Part 1 - The Ghost Of Christmas PastUnless we make Christmas an occasion to share our blessings, all the snow in Alaska won't make it "white".
~Bing Crosby
I hear that in many places something has happened to Christmas; that it is changing from a time of merriment and carefree gaiety to a holiday which is filled with tedium; that many people dread the day and the obligation to give Christmas presents is a nightmare to weary, bored souls; that the children of enlightened parents no longer believe in Santa Claus; that all in all, the effort to be happy and have pleasure makes many honest hearts grow dark with despair instead of beaming with good will and cheerfulness. ~Julia Peterkin, A Plantation Christmas, 1934
Let Christmas not become a thing Merely of merchant's trafficking, Of tinsel, bell and holly wreath In my last diatribe I mentioned that my favorite time of year is the fall; my favorite month is October; and my favorite holiday is Halloween. Well it is still the fall but we have finally entered my least favorite month; December. It houses my least favorite season; winter and above all others, its crown jewel is the most obnoxious, tiresome, stressful, hectic, I would rather be tax audited or anally probed by space aliens holiday on the calendar; Christmas. Now to be fair, let me back up a little and do some ‘splaining’. My statement about December stands, I really do hate it, but it’s not the character of the month its self’s fault. As I said before, I love all kinds of weather. I love it when the cool and crisp give way to the cold and freezing (as long as I am prepared for it). I love it when the wind goes from brisk to howling. And there is no better place to be on the planet when the snow starts to fly than on my sofa next to the big picture window, with a big cup of tea or hot adult style beverage in hand next to a roaring fire (and I swear that the next house we buy will actually have a fireplace so that I can stop burning a hole on the carpet in the middle of the floor; I think my wife would like that). There really is no ‘bad’ weather to me, its all different kinds of good weather; a true spice of life. The only time weather becomes bad is if I had planned on working around the outside of the house and God decides it is a good day to water the flowers. We all know who wins that argument. No, unfortunately December is guilty by its association with the tick that is buried into its backside. When I was a kid, my brothers and I looked forward to Christmas as any normal ‘give me, give me, give me kid would, but unlike most kids, I was also aware of the hardship it placed on my parents. We were just barely lower middle class; My Father was a Bus Driver who mostly worked the swing shift and my mother worked in a bakery and later was a school crossing guard. It was always a struggle just to stay on top of things but Christmases were always extra tough and I can remember a couple times where somehow they managed goodies under the tree for us even though they barley had two nickels to rub together. All this in a time before the major use of credit cards and the ease of purchasing outside of your means; another insidious gift of the season. Perception is a powerful thing, even in young children and can for right or wrong decide the paths we step out onto. One particular Christmas drives this home for me. It was a hard year for my parents and yet once again they managed presents for us three boys. If you were to ask my brother, Version 2.0, he will tell you it was the worst Christmas and yet, because I was more aware of how hard it was for mom and dad and still they provided presents, I saw it then and still to this day as one of the best Christmases we had. I’m not saying that my brother was/is selfish or that I was/am selfless, but it was the knowledge and ability to understand it that made the perception so different between the two of us. I will forever love them for what they did and forever hate that they felt they had to.
When my kids were small, I managed to temper my growing dislike for the holiday and found enjoyment in waiting for my kids to jump up and down with excitement into our bedroom to announce that ‘Santa’ made his scheduled drop and then watching them mercilessly rip to shreds the paper from the gifts my wife and I carefully wrapped into the wee hours of the morning. The look in their eyes was more than worth the hassle of the HO-HO-HO (My curse word for the season). As the kids grew older and Santa was no longer a entity to kiss up to, the holiday seemed to lose most of it’s luster. It simply became a shopping spree for things on a list. Sure the lights are nice and the getting together of family to celebrate is great, but there always seems to be something missing. It is like getting a whiff of a flower’s scent for an instant and then it’s gone. You know it’s there somewhere but you just can’t put your finger on it. One year I suggested to my wife’s family that instead of exchanging presents with each other, to put that money to better use and support a child through one of the many groups that help children in need. We have been doing this now for ten years and it helps me to know that the money that would have purchased a gift that in all likelihood would be by this time forgotten or discarded, went to a place and a person who needed better and more important things. I got this idea in a roundabout way many years ago by way of all things, a TV commercial. The scene took place in an orphanage or foster home with a young boy of about 8 or 10 years old writing a letter to Santa asking for a puppy. Two slightly older boys come into the room, snatch up the letter and then proceed to make fun of the boy for not only believing in the Claus man, but also even thinking that anyone gave a crap about kids like them. They toss the letter back at him and continue to laugh as they leave the room. The little boy bows his head down in sorrow. Well it turns out that the boy must have submitted the letter anyway because the next scene shows a women reading the letter and you can tell by the expression on her face that the puppy is practically in the mail. Sure enough the next scene (and for me, still a heart grabber after 30 years since seeing it) shows the little boy sitting in his room and you can see that he has already convinced himself that the older boys were probably right. And as any good TV bullies worth their salt, the two older boys are on hand to taunt him ”Where is Santa Clause?” “What no presents?”. Just then a voice calls out to the young boy that there is a package downstairs for him. Young boy looks at Bully boys. Bully boys look at each other with that ‘No Way’ look on their faces. Young boy races downstairs. Bully boys follow in hot pursuit. Young boy kneels by present. Bully boys are deliciously quiet. Young boy slowly removes the top off of present. Puppy happily pops out of basket. Puppy proceeds to happily drown young boy in puppy kisses. Young boy giggles with delight as puppy continues its loving assault. Bully boys stare at unbelievable sight with jaws dropped to the ground. Author of this blog starts to cry as he is typing this and must stop for a moment….. WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIECING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STAND BY……
There are many Christmas memories in my head , but to think that a TV commercial is one of the most profound is – well – pretty profound. It gave me the idea at an early age that there is more to Christmas than what I was being shown by current media and that the real spirit of Christmas is in the giving. Period. My one true regret is that I did not act upon this feeling sooner in my life. My greatest hope is that I can do better, that we can all do better in the time ahead.
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