There is absolutely nothing not 1970's about this photo.
I guess I do judge people on how
they celebrate Christmas. It is kinda
stupid, and I make exceptions for obvious religious purposes, but I find that
your attitude toward the holiday tells me a little about who you are the rest
of the year. There are the frazzled, the
complainers, the overzealous, the perfectionists, the guilt machines and the rest
of us, who fall somewhere in the middle.
I can’t deal with psychos who
overplan, but I really don’t get along with Grinches who are cheap and don’t possess
a giving bone in their body. I also don’t
need to hear another syllable about the origins of the secular celebration of
Christmas, commercialism and the nonexistent war on Christmas. I am the most irked by the complainers. Shopping
for gifts and making a few dinners isn’t like facing down ISIS in Iraq. It’s just some comfy socks and assorted nogs. Calm the hell down.
Christmas was a time when my parents
got their shit together. Until I was
around 11 or so, that time of year was as cool as it could get for my brother
and me. We had a few big surprises, my
mom baked, we got into the Johnny Mathis on vinyl records, and we trimmed the
tree within an inch of its life. Best
surprise gift? Atari 2600 console. Yes, I’m that old. Matt and I lost our shit.
But it was the time of year that I
loved. It was at least a little cooler
in Florida, which always made me feel better.
Neighbors put up lights and decorations.
There were parties and treats and days off and more time with friends
and Frosty on TV and old movies and it was all…different. I think that’s what has stuck with me. This is just a different time of year. Whether you celebrate the holiday in a
religious or secular fashion, or an American combo of the two, the scenery
changes. Schedules change. The daily
routine is altered to accommodate frivolous stuff like mistletoe and ugly
sweaters and shopping and goofing off.
I’ve always been the Christmas guy
around here. My wife is no Scrooge; she was just born without a “making a fuss
about things” strand of DNA. I decorate
inside and out. I go find a tree, put it
up, and decorate it. I make plans for
all the gifts, buy the gifts, and wrap, tag, and hide the gifts. I adhere to the traditions and look to make
new ones. All me. My wife cooks the
Christmas dinner. (Standing rib
roast. Quickly becoming my favorite part
of the day.)
When my kids were tiny, this was an
absolute pleasure. You can feel a kid’s
anxiety as the 25th approaches. The 24this a nightmare to
them. They watch the clock and do anything
to make the day somehow go faster. Christmas morning was the absolute best
thing about being a parent. I remember a million smiles and silliness and I’m
proud that I was there for all of it.
But, now they aren’t little turds anymore. They are big and old, and the boys are young
men with hairy legs and my daughter lost interest in dolls a long time ago.
Now what?
So many people lose it right here. They
break down because the little ones are gone. It’s another sting from an empty
nest. You were lucky enough to realize the work that goes into preparing a Christmas
for little ones is the best part of the holiday, and now it’s gone. No gift was ever better than watching my boys
open up their lightsabers. That gift
doesn’t exist. But I’m still ticking,
and the calendar rounds its way to December every year, so what do I do? Flip through photo albums and cry like a mom
in an Old Spice commercial? No way.
Just like you adjust your life when
the kids arrive, and when they grow up, you adjust your holiday. I’ve been running this show for twenty years,
anyway. Now, it’s for me.
(Well, me and the Mrs., but since I’m the grand poobah of the season, it’s
really my Christmas.)
I do as much as I want or as little
as I want. If I wasn’t to change
something, I do it. If I want to decorate, I do it. If I feel like going overboard, I do that
shit, too. Define your own holiday. I don’t expect all my kids to appreciate
anything; that’s a fool’s errand. I feel
no pressure other that the pressure I wish to feel. It is a gift I give myself and my blood
pressure thanks me.
So for anyone feeling the squeeze of
the holiday, just define it yourself. If
you truly value the season you can still enjoy it on your own terms and take
your loved ones along for the ride. It is still a weird, unique time of year
and there are still people who appreciate it.
And to those to don’t, New Year’s Eve is a week away, and that
completely meaningless and useless holiday is made just for you.
