Let Christmas not become a thing Merely of merchant's trafficking, Of tinsel, bell and holly wreath
And surface pleasure, but beneath The childish glamour, let us find Nourishment for soul and mind.
Let us follow kinder ways Through our teeming human maze, And help the age of peace to come
From a Dreamer's martyrdom.
~Madeline Morse

 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.