Sooo… the Holidays huh? Am I right?
Good start Lando.
The holidays have always been a weird time of the year for me. It’s not been easy to get into the “spirit.” I tend to be rather cynical about most holidays, especially those that seem specifically designed to get you to buy more shit you don’t need. I think the reason for that is that for chunks of my childhood I was either displaced or very poor. So the holidays did not quite have the same shiny allure that it did for a lot of children. The best part of Winter Break was always the break, not so much the looking forward to presents part. In all fairness however, my mom always did her best considering her means, and that usually meant getting me things she could not afford just to make me feel like there was something to look forward to. One of the countless acts of selfless love and devotion to motherhood I’ll never be able to repay her.
I was never sold the Santa Clause story. Growing up in Cuba, my family was partial to the Three Kings Day, which takes place on January 6th of every year. Not entirely dissimilar to the Santa Clause mythos, there are some overlapping motifs – three bearded wise men who once brought presents to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, now bring presents in the night to children across Spain and Latin America in exchange for cookies and hay for their magical camels.
My childhood became somewhat turbulent after leaving Cuba, so my mom had to shed the Three Kings story in exchange for a mutual understanding; she would ask me what I wanted for Christmas and then let me know if it was within the realm of possibility. This soon became a tradition that I carried into adulthood. My mom and I don’t try to surprise each other, rather we let the other know what we would like and if it’s within our price range, we buy it. That is to say that I was not opening a whole lot of presents growing up. Given the circumstances, I think I had it pretty good. But that also means that I skipped right over the magic and careless wonder of childhood Christmas days, and went right into the stresses of brainstorming present ideas, budget management, and resenting my family. You know… the Holidays.
This is unfortunate news for my wife, who happened to grow up in a well-adjusted household that adhered to more traditional holiday customs. This has meant that during the time of the year that she is excited to get presents for her loved-ones and scrambling to put up lights and decorations, I am often (and obnoxiously) railing against the corporate nature of the modern holiday tradition. I am not a lot of fun to live with.
This year in particular, my wife has seemed less excited for Christmas. I’m starting to see her become more cynical about the festivities. I don’t even recall hearing holiday music playing in our house this year. I think my Grinch-like lack of good cheer is finally getting to her and I feel a little bad about it. Not that I should put myself in a position to celebrate a holiday I don’t believe in or am particularly fond of, but I also don’t have to be as vocal about my disdain for the holidays as I have been, especially in light on how much these days have meant to my wife in the past. But this is a constant in my life – my intellectual hubris and selfishness that is. Instead of putting on a smile on my face to safe-guard someone else’s magic, which they are barely clinging onto through the trials of adulthood, I too willfully try to put it down like an injured race horse. As if that is even my responsibility.
Like, who the fuck am I to tell you what you should celebrate? Or to shit on the things you find joy in? So what if I think that this holiday is but a husk of the original Pagan traditions that have now been co-opted by marketing executives to sell toys? So what if I think the reason stores play the same Christmas songs year after year is to purposely trigger the nostalgia that feeds consumerism by reminding you of how you felt when you heard this same song when you were a child? If going out and spending an unjustifiable amount of money on presents for people you only ‘kinda’ like, wrapping them in colorful paper which you bought for the sole purpose of watching someone else destroy it, and blasting the uncomfortable date anthem “Baby its Cold Outside” makes you happy, then that’s exactly what you should do. Sure, you don’t need one day on the calendar to be nice to people or get presents for those you love, any other arbitrary day would serve just as well, but you have been conditioned by years of tradition to pick this one time of the year in particular to practice some bastardized form of altruism, and that’s… a good thing?… I think. I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be an apology to my wife.
Yikes.
This took a turn; my intention was to end this on a high-note. I don’t do enough of that lately and it’s the holidays so it would seem appropriate. I guess I should say something positive…
…I got nothing. So I’ll leave you with some advice – People tend to be more forgiving during the holidays, one of the things that those marketing executives got right is brain-washing people into being more generous, so use this to your advantage. I’m sure there are people in your life you have not made enough of an effort to connect with, I know I do. Maybe you got a text message you have been meaning to respond to but haven’t, maybe there’s an email you never figured out a good reply to so it just sort of got buried in your inbox and now it feels too late and too awkward to write back, maybe one of your good friends from the past who you haven’t spoken to in ages reached out to you on social media and you’ve been meaning to catch up but haven’t gotten around to it yet; if something along these lines applies to you, take the opportunity now to draft that email, shoot that text, or give them a call. Do it now, while everyone is hopped up on eggnog and looking for any excuse to not check their bank accounts, they’ll be more willing to forgive your shittyness. It’ll cost you nothing, and who knows, you might even put a smile one someone’s face. Generosity free of charge – it’s hard to find a bargain like that during the holidays.
Lando Writes Sometimes 
Christmas Chronicles
from Mid-Life (I hope)
Ah, “The Holidays,” huh? I think if everyone were honest they would have to admit “The Holidays” are weird. For me, the more Christmases I experience the broader the perspective. Ok, ok in other words I’m older and wiser. Wiser, maybe. Older, obviously.
I simply don’t remember the Christmases of my earliest years. A fact I frequently remind my daughters of as they shape their own Christmas experiences for themselves and my grandchildren should they feel inclined to go overboard. My earliest Christmas memory is that of a large box of toys left on the back porch of our Kentucky home. It had a Fisher Price A-Frame house that sticks in my mind to this day. A “weird” feeling about all of that also stuck with me. When the time came in my life for me to look back with the fresh eyes of introspective reflection, I realized that “weird” feeling was my internal judgment that perhaps parents shouldn’t have more children than they can afford to buy perfect, individually selected Christmas gifts to. It was a mixed feeling because I both loved that A-Frame house and didn’t want someone else’s left overs from the charity service.
In our Tennessee home, I remember receiving as a gift my father’s old, used radio/alarm crock. I think I may have mentioned wanting the latest music player so that I could listen to my beloved Puerto Rican boy bank “Menudo.” Do I remember any other gift? No, I don’t. Only this music player that I really wanted with that associated “weird feeling” that comes with the simultaneous rejection of someone else’s left overs. Parenting tip: never forbid your children to do anything! Forbidden from rock music, I used that radio to play rock music as often as possible while dreaming of my handsome, dark, foreigner who would rescue me.
Older now and no longer trusting my parents for an awesome Christmas, I made my own plan as the day drew near and we were still without a Christmas tree. I enlisted the help of my sweet, sheepish, younger sister and perhaps bullied her a bit which she wanted to chicken out. We snuck out of that Tennessee home, before dawn, with an axe and made our way onto the wooded property behind us. We found a tree, chopped it down and had it up and decorated before the rest of the family woke. Did I get the glory, laud and honor I so desired? No. I got lectured for steeling someone else’s property. Still, best Christmas adventure ever!
Interestingly, I can’t help but wonder if it is from recanting my tale of glee about finding my own tree, my daughters live near Christmas tree farms. They chop their own trees and eat their own Turkeys too. Sorry, Ashley. My son, lie me will get the tree up and decorated of his own accord long before I care to bother with it. It’s been clear to me that he has no faith in my ability to create magical illusions since the day I tried to play tooth fairy with him and he “recognized that dollar from my purse.” Fine, kid. No tooth fairy for you.
The next Christmas of any import enough to be remembered is December 24, 1987 when my beloved Puerto Rican proposed to me. (Ok, well ½ Puerto Rican who spoke no Spanish) I crack myself up. That wasn’t so much magical illusion as it was predestined delusion. Both of us so spiritually wounded we hadn’t the capacity to lovingly relate to one another. Still, I love him to this day, moreso as I love my brother since he has a new wife an all.
Then there were those disappointing years where I waited with my own expectation that someone would give me a grand Christmas. Years when I as parent wanted to give my children the Christmas they I never had and always wanted. I considered whether there would be a “Santa Clause” at my house or not. I could never get comfortable with outright deception but generally taught my children about the varying Holiday traditions and explained that I most resonated with the story of Saint Nicholas whose habit it was to secretly give gifts. Despite my best efforts and intentions, my children’s perceptions and experiences brought forth the realization that my heart was in the wrong place. I was aligned with trying to create something for them when the truth of the matter is I only have the power to create for myself and only when I have become the spirit of Christmas could I possible spill over with inspirational gift giving.
Then, I managed to have a few fun, meaningful Christmases before my daughters left home to shape their own lives. These Christmases, the tree was decorated with love and togetherness, watching the newly discovered to me “Christmas Story” movie with corresponding quiz and prize for most best answers and making Sugar cookies for Single Parent Santa Mom. Decorated with love and togetherness except that one year. The year I made a Christmas tree out of demonstrative trial boards, having made their last appearance, that my son still shakes his head about.
Now it is just my son and I. It has been awkward to adjust. It has not been calm and bright. My son happens to be an exceptional gift giver and feels most loved when he receives a thoughtful (expensive) gift. I am not at all talented in that way and this leaves the dynamic best stated by his ugly Christmas sweater “Merry Fucking Christmas.” So be it. I’m not fucking Christmas shopping. So, there’s that. Still, I would LOVE to delight him and couldn’t resist putting a stocking together for him with the full knowing it would take a brand new Tessla truck to really delight him. We see with out brains not our eyes. My son’s fuck Christmas attitude is not different from my own childish projection fro the belief that I was “not good enough” thus none of my presents could ever have been good enough because I couldn’t see it any other way at the time.
I don’t put much thought into the commercialism. I’m in charge of my wallet and everybody’s gotta make a living. Who can judge those that have the gift of getting us to reach for our wallets? One of the gifts I most cherish is a Love Letter / Short Story I wrote to my daughter as a Christmas gift. It seemed apropos telling a story about her son’s birth at Christmas. I hope my children know that I have no expectation of repayment for my selfless motherhood for then it would not be a gift or selfless at all. A true gift from a place of love is free of charge, free of receiving anything in return. Thanks for the intro to Three Kings, I had never heard of it! I think the conclusion of your Holiday musings is indication that in fact you do know the spirit of Christmas.
Round yon Christmas story. I suspect my loved ones would read the above tales and notice the absence of baby Jesus. Come to think of it, grown up Jesus was the first dark, handsome, foreigner who could rescue me that I was introduced to. I went to Church yesterday, December 24, 2019, for the first time in about ten years excepting the day after my Father died at the request of my Mother. The anniversary of my first proposal, I attended the Church where I got married a second time. I’ve been proposed to four and a ½ times, yet I am presently unwed. It was an emotional visit. The Church looked/felt so much smaller than it did in m memories. The emotion overflowing for me was that of joy. Joy that I survived that marriage to a con man that some how growing up in Church didn’t teach me to discern a wolf in wolf’s clothing. Joy that having left “The Church” I found God. Joy from standing in my own skin alive with life, and desire and love and joy and peace and I didn’t find that in Church.
As I listened to the Pastor give a short Christmas message where he gently chided his younger self for wanting presents more than he wanted to worship Jesus I wanted to jump up and shout “Don’t you know?!” “Jesus is a gift giver!” He did say one thing I wholeheartedly agreed with “God is love.” THE SPIRIT OF LOVE IS CHRISTMAS and we SHOULD want to receive gifts!
My short Christmas philosophy is To thine own self be true and only then can you be true to everyone else. Thank you William Shakespeare. I give what I am willing and able to give within my time, money, energy to do so. So here I am with all of my messy Christmas experiences passing on my coming to know the magic of Christmas so that others may release themselves from the preconceived notions of others and create their own magic their own way whether it is on December 25th or not. If the whole world wants to shut down for a day to exchange love with others – I’m all for that.
Merry Christmas to all, may you find love bubbling over, wrapping itself with ribbons and bows, enwrapping others, enwrapping the world.
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Well said Beth and so well written! I very much enjoy your line about Jesus being the dark and handsome rescuer. Too funny and I would have to agree with your opening sentence, very wise indeed ❤
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