Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

Everyone says they don't like Christmas anymore, and yet everyone puts so much energy into celebrating it.
It's easy to see why so many people bemoan the start of the holiday season. It's always been a lot of work, and it's getting worse on a lot of levels. With so many stepchildren and parents in the modern world, plus half brothers and sisters and in-laws, the gift lists seem to have grown exponentially in the last decade or so. And how can you leave out that friend who just keeps buying for you year after year, despite your best efforts at hinting that you'd like to stop? The list doesn't end there, either. There's the paper boy, the car pool people, the boss, the co-workers, the neighbors; it seemed like such a good idea at the time to include each and every one, but when taken as a whole, their inclusion adds up to a lot of time and thought and expense and ultimately, pressure.

It's not just the expense involved, it's the thought process. We all want to get that "perfect" present for people, the one that will knock their socks off or at least elicit a large, beaming, surprised smile. Unfortunately, unless you go the lazy and boring route of just asking them what they want and getting them exactly that, you're likely to have a rough time. Sizes are hard to gauge without asking. Kids' interests change from year to year; if the kids are yours, you have a list to go by. If not, you're kind of screwed. Then you have to negotitate spending limits. "Did I spend EXACTLY as much on John as I did on Jill, and if I didn't, does it mean I don't love him as much?" "Why did I spend $25 on a gift for my sister when she only spent $10 on one for me?" It isn't supposed to be about such petty concerns, but let's be honest. That stuff does enter into the motivational mix every year, and it complicates matters even further.
The workload doesn't end with gift giving, either. Whereas it used to be enough to string a few lights around your little pine tree in the house and maybe a string or two on the eavespouts outside, now you really feel a bit inadequate if you don't cover your entire property with blinking, moving, singing electronic gizmos of all kinds, being careful to include representatives of both the secular version of Christmas (Santa, Rudolph, the elves, etc.) and the religious (Jesus, et al). All that stuff that looked so cute and "necessary" in the stores has to be used somehow, and besides, it's no more than the Jones' next door have.
OK, presents and decorations accounted for. Don't forget your cards, your food, and any other miscellaenous Christmas items that can be thrown into the mix, i.e Christmas wardrobe, gifts for the pets (who of course completely understand why they are suddenly being forced to wear felt horns). Cards become a game of Yuletide chicken, i.e. "who's going to send who a card first? I'm not going to send X one till he/she sends me one, maybe (hopefully) neither of us will and we can both breathe easy at the prospect of one less address to save in our address box and one less stamp to buy. Then we have to deal with the old "personal versus form letter" quandry. Does Aunt Martha rate some personal ink or can she make do with the mass mailing sound bite edition? Decisions, decisions...

Time was when Christmas was a lot smaller and a lot more manageable. You gave presents to your immediate family. You sent cards out to family and friends and wrote in every one of them. You had a tree and a few outside lights. You spent the holiday at one address, and you had one Christmas meal and that seemed quite sufficient. The kids got what they were given and were grateful; you didn't feel like a total failure if you didn't manage to procure the "hot, new, supplies are very limited" thing that seems to pop up every year now.

And there was TIME.

There was time for laughing and talking and playing games (that you actually enjoyed and wanted to play). There was drinking and singing and some reflection on the year gone by. Kids were listened to, not patronized and shooed away to be babysit by the latest kid video or game.

Like almost every other aspect of our modern lives, our celebration of Christmas has been hijacked by our need to do everything, be everywhere and our failure to recognize that its the time spent with loved ones that matters not all the grotesque material trimmings and peripatetic dashing about in search of Yuletide perfection. It's tempting to cite this situation as another instance of man being a slave to his own technology, because that's partly accurate. But I think it goes a bit deeper than that. I think we're all reacting to the massive cultural changes we've seen in the last couple of decades; the new phenomenon of living far away from your family and moving several times in your lifetime, the constant time on the road and the emphasis of career over personal life. In spite of all these huge sea changes, we still (admirably, but sadly too) attempt to cling to those traditions of our past that gave us so many great memories. But we're finding the old world traditions and the demands of the new world aren't a very good fit, that we can serve both of those masters at once.

Inevitably, something has to give. The time spent with family is rushed, the "fun" feels staged and hollow, and the traditions become diluted more and more as time goes on and we don't so much honor them as give them lip service. Three or four "holiday" dinners are ultimately unsatisfying because we are just gulping them down mechanically instead of truly tasting them.

Much like the holidays themselves.