The too many days of Christmas by Angel Perkins
There may be only 12 days of Christmas referred to in the age-old song (Dec. 25 to Jan. 5) but unlike the earlier intentions of the holiday season, in our time, the holiday begins much sooner than that. Barely are the spiderwebs and ghoulish masks of Halloween packed away before glistening balls and colorful stockings beam at shoppers from their shelves.
I loved that Nordstrom, a high-end department store, decided not to decorate for the December holiday until the November feast had had it’s day. I won’t bore or stir you with my opinions of the Thanksgiving holiday and how in the world that first dinner transpired into the warm-fuzzy festival of gluttony it’s become today (and I doubt that ever children will be taught to skip the pilgrim hats and feather headpieces for the hatchets and musket exchange or the smallpox-ridden blankets given as gifts to the Indians shortly after that friendly meal in their holiday programs).
I do like my turkey, loved ones and pumpkin pie but (as I do every year) the decor doesn’t adorn my home until the day after Thanksgiving.
Nordstrom set a classy bar and displayed a much lesser greed than other retailers by not skipping over a national holiday, regardless of my opinions of it (and don’t even let me get started about Columbus Day) and I commend those in charge. Other retailers started busting out the tinsel and Christmas music mid-November before they even had their pre-Black Friday sales.
I don’t approve obviously and while I enjoy the feeling of anticipation of more time spent visiting with loved ones, decking the halls, reaching out to the less fortunate, and putting even more weight on as a result of direct food-abusing — no music or angels or holiday singing programs or nativity scenes or ceremonies or television shows will get me in the mood for the holiday until I see some snow.
I think as a very small child I must’ve looked out a window and saw a blanket of sparkling snow on Christmas morning and felt some magic, because every one for as long as I can remember I do the same, and am hauntingly disappointed to not find icicles dangling from here and there, or to hear the swish of cars driving through the slush, or to watch the brave feathered wildlife tramping their tiny birdie footprints in the snow.
I realize that Mother Nature is a little twisted, with some vendetta against Hoosiers, but she and Jack Frost need to get on it and quit playing with us. Maybe Al Gore has them locked up somewhere so people will take his research about global warming seriously?
Here we are with temperatures in the 60s and already we’ve torn into the advent calendar. To me, unless there’s sand between my toes and I can hear the gentle rushing of the waves there is no good reason to experience shorts-weather in December.
I say give the holiday season it’s due attention — in it’s due time — but actually spend more time remembering the reason for the season … and let it snow!