I remember seeing Santa at the end of a Thanksgiving parade once, when I was a kid, and thinking it was weird. It
wasn’t Christmas; it was Thanksgiving. Too soon Santa, too soon. Why does it always have to be about you, old man?
Within my lifetime the
celebration of Christmas has lengthened by about a month. It starts a month
earlier than it did when I was little. It used to be early December. But he time I was a teenager, it was right after Thanksgiving. And now it's November first. Some stores are
starting to put out Christmas stuff before Halloween
even. WTF!? (Maybe viewing Halloween as the time you’re supposed
to start thinking about Christmas is the fault of the people who made the
Nightmare Before Christmas.) What is driving this desire to celebrate Christmas
for such a long period of time? Is it just ordinary consumerism? Or is it an
unconscious desire to find or manufacture some kind of happiness and distraction
from the horror of our contemporary lives?
For those of us, like
me (yes, yes, it’s always about me), who do not have friends or loved ones with
whom they will be celebrating a winter holiday, I fear that the Christmas
lovers’ emphasis on “Christmas! Christmas! Christmas! It’s CHRISTMAS!!!” for the
last two months of the year only serves to remind us of how sad and pathetic
our lives are, how desperately alone we are.
So, come on holly, jolly Christmas-ers, tone it down. And save it for later. (Have you never heard of delayed gratification?) Also,
maybe take some time and look at the people you know who aren’t celebrating,
who aren’t donning their gay apparel. Maybe include them a little. I mean, really include them, not just do a Christmas-greeting drive-by. You don’t have to adopt them for the month, just... I don't know, check and see how they’re doing. Maybe they don’t want to go to your party; then
again, maybe they do. But they’re certainly not going to invite themselves. Ya know, Scrooge wasn’t always a bitter old guy. There’s a
reason he’s that way. However – back to my original point – two months of mindless
and shallow holiday cheer is not going to bring him around. (And by him, I mean
me. As I said, it’s always about me. Isn’t it?)
