Considering Christmas

Whatever your faith or faithlessness, you know you can't just ignore Christmas, not in these United States. You can have a Charlie Brown Christmas, or just the brown Christmas in our forecast. It is unlikely that we will have a white Christmas, no matter who is dreaming of it. You and Johnny may have a merry little Christmas. You may be home for Christmas in Connecticut, with or without Barbara Stanwyck. You can pass on the annual holiday junket to Manhattan, block the all-Christmas-music-all-the-time radio station, avoid the gigantic plastic creatures which have invaded the suburbs, and you can shrink your Christmas sweater, but we will all have a holiday on December 25, and it's not just another long weekend.

I think the endurance of Christmas as an American obsession, aside from its obvious retail value, can be explained by our national reverence for optimism. Christmas is all about anticipation. "Do not open until Christmas." Those securely wrapped presents might be concealing a Playstation, (or a prepackaged holiday gift item from Marshall's.) Your mailbox may be overflowing with invitations to a gala round of pre-holiday parties, (or with fifteen more LL Bean catalogs.) Santa may bring you the puppy you asked for; (he surely wouldn't just eat the cookies and run?) It is un-American not to anticipate that prosperity and all good things are just around the corner. Our national aversion to humbuggery, however, can make Christmas a sad season for those of us who no longer believe either in Santa or in endless possibilities.

Ignoring Christmas may not an option, but there is a way to compensate when you've not much to anticipate. Consider conjuring up your own ghost of Christmases Past. Unlike Scrooge, most of us have family footage, with soundtracks, that rival any holiday special for unbridled and very patriotic optimism. But consider also what may lie beneath those sunny super-eights. Remember Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree? Most American families weren't even speaking, let alone rockin', by the time the overpriced underneedled tree was shoved in a corner to hide the bad side, secured with enough wire for a circus tent, and hung with lights that wouldn't stop blinking if they lit up at all. How about I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus? Those grainy photos of the kids in their Christmas pajamas clutching Cabbage Patch dolls never included their bleary-eyed Mommy and Daddy who had been up all night fighting over the interpretation of the dollhouse directions written in Japanese. It seemed there was always A Christmas Party Hop back in the day when everyone in the neighborhood held competitive holiday house parties. There is a reason why, once the kids are gone, that most of the holiday parties to which we are invited are thrown by people who get paid to do so. Work parties may have the warmth of Frosty the Snowman, but they don't entail searching for the perfect hostess gift, preparing standout canapes from complicated recipes, tastefully decorating your own home, or comparing it unfavorably to your neighbor's Winter Wonderland. Feel bad when you hear I'll be Home for Christmas because Dad's gone and Mom's in assisted living? Tell me how much you really miss climbing in the car on Christmas morning while the kids are crying because they have to leave their presents behind so you can drive over the river and through the traffic jam to grandma's house. How about Blue Christmas? At least they got that one right. My most memorable blue Christmas was one I shared with my friend Mary in Boston in 1969. We spent the night before Christmas break in a bar after trudging to Lord and Taylor to cash in the cashmere sweater that she had bought her boyfriend after he presented her with a bottle of Evening in Paris cologne. And even the most optimistic sugar plum fairies among us can't be anticipating yet another performance of The Nutcracker Suite?

We can't ignore Christmas, but maybe we can stop shaking those chains and anticipate a Christmas Future (without that annoying Tiny Tim.) Consider a Christmas without A Christmas Carol, but with David Sedaris' Santaland Diaries (or the Godfather trilogy.) Forget the plum pudding and even the Christmas dinner, and do a morning after brunch instead, so the kids can beat the traffic instead of eating more turkey. Give the family a buy and invite some friends over to hang out, with or without their Christmas sweaters. Finally, here's something we can all (not) anticipate. New Year's Eve is just around the corner!