While I was at work the other day, staring blankly at my computer screen and only half-heartedly willing myself to return to some mind-numbing task, I started to ponder the meaning of Christmas. This was triggered by my internet radio station. I mostly listen to my Slacker account at work (I love Pandora, but for some reason, it doesn't play nicely with some of the other tasks that I use my computer for). Anyway, Slacker has genre stations. I listened to the Halloween genre station for most of October, which was interesting. There were quite a few songs that came up that I'd heard before but never had the chance to research. Also, I rediscovered "Boris the Spider" by The Who, which I think is probably the world's only classic rock song dealing with an isolated instance of arachnophobia (great song!).
Now that December has started, I've started to listen to the Holiday Party genre station, which is also interesting. There are more than a few good Christmas songs out there, but for some reason this station chooses to play the ones that annoy me. For example: I hate the song "Frosty the Snowman." I didn't like the cartoon (all of the children looked like extremely unfortunate mutations of humans and chipmunks), and call me crazy, but there's something really unnerving to me about the idea of an lifeless facsimile of a human becoming animate. I have the same problem with scarecrows.
I also hate the songs that originated from some multi-celebrity benefits, like "Feed the World" or "Do They Know it's Christmas?" I have to stop whatever I'm doing when these songs come on and violently click the "Ban" button, but there are plenty more annoying Christmas songs to take their place. I found myself wishing that I had the time to create my own station that played only the Christmas songs that I liked, which I suppose I could do on Playlist, if I could find the songs. I would listen to Playlist a lot more if they had a "Shuffle" option. Then I wouldn't have to re-order the songs myself, which I hate doing.
Back to the subject at hand: I was hitting the "Ban" button more often than I was actually listening to the station, which led me to wonder why I was even listening to it, if I disliked so many of the songs. I also started thinking about what I dislike so much about Christmastime (and by extension, Thanksgiving and New Year's). I am not the kind of person who has a large base of friends and family. I have relatively few people that I'm really close to, and am comfortable spending time with. This is why I'm not a party person. I would rather do nothing with a few close friends than many things with lots of people I don't feel comfortable with. Anyway, many people (including my family) labor under the notion that holidays are for spending time with family, even extremely extended and distant relatives that one only sees once every ten years, if at all. For example, just last month at Thanksgiving (at my step-dad's mother's house), I was seated at the same table with people with mysterious names like "Cousin Kyle" and "Aunt Lisa." Apparently, I had met both of these people before at large-scale family reunions that I had been too young to get out of, but was still expected to remember. Many of these people try to "Friend" me through Facebook, but my rule is if I don't know you, I don't "Friend" you. They'll try to explain the way in which they are related to me, but it sounds a lot like the Kevin Bacon game: "I'm the daughter of the niece of your great-aunt's cousin." Please don't misunderstand me. I love spending time with family during the holidays (at least, a reasonable amount of time), but if someone isn't already in my circle of comfort, they're not likely to be able to break into it.
Another thing that I don't like about Thanksgiving is the irony. I appreciate it, but I don't like it. It's ironic that a day devoted (in name, at least) to being grateful for the things we have is immediately followed by a day dedicated to feeding the monster Avarice. I am honestly surprised that the death toll of Black Friday isn't higher.
Despite all of this, however, I always come to the realization that I do love these holidays. Any holiday that celebrates a day of overeating is okay in my book! And I love planning gifts for people. I love the challenge of the perfect gift. I love the feelings of generosity that Christmas inspires in people. As depressing as it is that this seems like the only time of year when it's okay to give a shit about other people, at least it happens once on an annual basis. I love that Christmas can be meaningful without all of the fancy gifts. The Christmas that I remember most clearly from my childhood was one where my parents were still together (though it was towards the end of their relationship), and having financial problems. My brothers and I only received one present (collectively) that year, but it was one of the most special gifts I remember receiving. On Christmas morning, my father snuck outside and rang the doorbell, and my brothers and I opened to door to find a box on the porch. This box was mewing, and there was a note on it. The note said something like, "Hi! My name is St. Nicholas, and I've come to live with you!" Inside the box, as you've probably guessed, was the most adorable gray tabby kitten. We called him "Nick" for short, but he was always "St. Nicholas" in the back of our minds. Best Christmas present ever.
Whenever I come close to despairing during Christmas, all I have to do is pop in my Nat King Cole Christmas album and listen to his rendition of "Merry Christmas To You," also known as "The Christmas Song." In my mind, his is the only real version of this song. He sings it as though he means it, as if he's wishing you a Merry Christmas from beyond. I also love his "Mona Lisa," but that's beside the point.
Anyway, regardless of any religious meaning you choose to take from Christmas, or whatever holiday you celebrate during these winter months, the true meaning of this season manifests itself in the small things: an exchange of "Merry Christmas" between strangers, a handful of change dropped in a small red bucket, a can of soup given in a food drive, a card to someone who needs it, twinkling lights at night, hot chocolate and mittens. May your days be merry and bright, my friends.
