I recently ran into an old friend. When I asked how she was, she heaved a dramatic sigh and proceeded to tell me how stressed she was with the holidays. Gifts, dinners, parties and an extra workload had her giving an Academy Award performance of quiet desperation.
Now, I’m sure she has a full plate with numerous obligations. Don’t we all? But when did Christmas become a stress-inducer instead of a season of celebration?
Let’s be honest. Despite the hundreds of commercials offering exactly what you need to make this Christmas perfect, you do not need Julia Child’s turkey, the house hosed down in tinsel, every gift wrapped to the nines, and the whole family on their best behaviour. (Who would recognize them, anyway?)
Every year, we see holiday programs and movies that all have the same theme. The characters are busy trying for the best Christmas EVER and while everything falls apart, somehow they learn the importance of being with the ones they love. It’s sweet. It’s a wonderful thought. Then we roll our eyes, turn off the TV, and go back to the madness of our Christmas to-do list. Obviously, the writers and directors have never met our kids, husbands, (insert your personal noun here).
But crazy as it may seem, is it just a teensy bit possible that Dr. Seuss and the others knew what they were talking about?
My most memorable holidays included (in no particular order): the year my sister contracted German measles and my dad knocked her out with a hot toddy; the December dinner when someone accidentally knocked the bubbling hot fondue oil into my lap; the season we had to choose one, and only one, wrapped gift to bring on the bus to Winnipeg because my grandmother had broken her hip; and the year I had a mini-meltdown because I was sure Santa forgot to bring me my DAS Pronto clay kit.
Oddly enough, I don’t remember the years of perfect turkeys, the one fruitcake that kept making the rounds, or all the parties I attended. I do recall Ballerina Barbie because I unwrapped her in Winnipeg. I also remember the DAS Pronto since it taught me the advertising phrase “not exactly as shown.”
And I remember the first year I saw It’s a Wonderful Life – five times. Hollywood, the most materialistic place on earth, understands. Why don’t we? No one will starve if you run out of gravy and stuffing. And you can shop for January discounts if you didn’t get it for Christmas.
For now, enjoy the season of hope. The Whos down in Whoville did it without a tree or presents. “Maybe Christmas, [you see], doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more.”
