A Big Stick

The most famous tribute to the pagan observance of the winter solstice has been erected at its annual sacred spot once again. Yes indeed folks, the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree is up. Or so I’m told. I guess I’ll find out the next time I take the bus home since the route goes along 50th street until Thanksgiving when it is altered due to the masses of humanity that go and gawk at the giant hunk of dying pine festooned with environmentally-friendly low-energy lights.

I know what you’re thinking. “He hates the holidays, this is going to be one of those boring holiday-bashing screeds that’s been done a million times.” Not so, my friends. I actually love the holiday season. I did go through a period in my life in my 20’s when I was the prototypical moody Scrooge type like many men that age tend to be. Things change. You learn that you own your holiday happiness and you can enjoy the season by finding the things you enjoy and focusing on them rather than on, say, the swarms of upward-gazing denizens of the flyover that clot the streets of your work neighborhood like well-bundled chunks of human cholesterol.

Another incentive in my holiday spirit turnaround was the ever-increasing body count among my friends and family coupled with the knowledge that the holiday season is one of the few times everyone has some time to spend with each other on this one-way trip. Ghosts of Christmas past and all that.

So these days I look forward to hauling down the Christmas stuff from the attic, writing out cards, and cooking meals for people. Especially the part where I try to sneak something in that’s outside my family’s normal culinary experience and get the “what is this weird food?” reaction.

I like walking outside my front door and hearing the faint tinkling of over-modulated carols eminating from a tinny speaker at the corner florist wafting through the still chilled air. Sure most Christmas music is junk but it’s more like seasonal decorative audio wallpaper than actual music and should be viewed as such.

I like walking up the block from the bus stop or down the block from the train station seeing the lights in my window and knowing the Mrs. and our four-legged family is waiting on the other side of the door.

I like watching Shep’s masterpiece “A Christmas Story” over and over again.

I even like looking at that big stick by the skaters on 50th street once in a while.

So my advice for you if you’re a holiday hater is forget about all the family baggage and the religious baggage and the consumerist crap and figure out what you like about the season and work with it. Make sure you make time for the people who matter to you, even if it’s five minutes to write a card.

The other stuff will fall into place. You might wind up enjoying yourself after all.