So, by process of elimination, Christmas sort of wins by default.
But Christmas would be my favourite holiday even if all of the other holidays didn’t stink. There’s just something… magical, for lack of a better word, about this time of year. All other holidays are confined to a day or a weekend or a week at the most. Christmas isn’t. The Christmas season begins in November and slowly builds up to a climax on December 25th. And during the month and a half or so leading up to Christmas Day, the world as we know it temporarily changes.
Some of the ways in which the world changes are obvious. Turn on the radio, and you’ll hear Christmas music playing. Look outside, and you’ll see lampposts decorated with emerald wreaths and bright lights of green and red. Go into a mall, and you’ll find yourself unable to buy anything without having to wait in an incredibly lengthy line. But some of the changes are more subtle. There’s something indescribable about how the world looks when a fresh blanket of snow adorns it. Few people enjoy blizzards, but most enjoy seeing the aftermath of one. It’s a beautiful thing.
Some adults have become jaded over the years, and no longer really enjoy the Christmas season. They see it as just a month with higher expenses than most months. And that’s a shame, because their rotten attitudes have a tendency to rub off on other people. People like me.
I’ll admit, my love of Christmas has decreased over the last couple of years. Some Christmas shoppers are good people who truly see Christmas as a season for giving. But a lot of them are jerks who are only out shopping because they have to. And so when I want to buy a CD, I have to walk into a crowded HMV with a bunch of people bitching at another bunch of people. It isn’t worth it to me, and so I end up leaving the mall empty-handed. This sort of thing makes me resent the Christmas season a little bit. I think that we need to look to the six year olds of the world as a guide for how to act around Christmas. Have you ever watched a six year old open a Christmas present? I highly recommend you do if the occasion arises.
They eye the gift. "From Santa", the card reads. Their eyes light up. He came! They furiously tear open the gift, leaving shreds of wrapping paper in their wake. A wide smile breaks out on their face. He knew exactly what I wanted! They jump up and down with glee as they tell their parents what they got from Santa. The parents, half asleep still, smile back.
That’s exactly the type of attitude that everyone needs to adopt. That Innocent and unshakable faith in the Christmas spirit. That pure joy.
But it’s really difficult, if not impossible, to recapture that joy once you hit age ten, because by then you’ve learned the horrible truth: Santa isn’t real.
And that’s the most terrible truth that a child will ever learn. Because once they find out that Santa doesn’t exist, what goes along with it? The Tooth Fairy… The Easter Bunny… Magic. All gone. A significant piece of that child’s Innocence is lost, and it can never be reclaimed.
In all seriousness, I think that there should be a fine imposed on anyone who tells a child that Santa doesn’t exist. Destroying a child’s faith in magic is one of the most harmful things you can do. Yes, unfortunately there will come a time when the child will figure it out by themself. Children are remarkably smart, after all. Eventually the child will say, perhaps with a hint of sadness, "Santa doesn’t exist, does he?" And at that point the parents must tell the truth, because telling a direct lie would harm the child. So yes, the child will eventually learn on its own. But no one should ever tell a child that Santa doesn’t exist. Doing so would be to deliberately harm the child, and should be punished by a $100 minimum fine.
As for me, my faith in the Christmas season is dwindling. Ever since learning that Santa doesn’t exist, much of the excitement and magic is gone. Some remains, but not much. And this year’s Christmas Eve hasn’t helped at all.
You see, back when I was much younger, Christmas Eve was a momentous occasion within my household. Relatives from all over came to celebrate with us. Over the years, a few of those relatives have stopped coming. I don’t exactly blame them, since they live about an hour away by car. But still, it has lessened the experience somewhat.
This year, however, my aunts and uncles were all no-shows, opting to instead spend Christmas at their in-laws’ house. And that really bugged me, because in trying to please their in-laws, they wrecked a tradition of Christmas celebrations that dates back to before my birth. So this year’s Christmas Eve celebration was more of a small get-together with my grandparents and a cousin or two.
I don’t know if I’m justified in complaining about aunts and uncles wanting to spend Christmas with their in-laws. But I do know this: I didn’t have a great Christmas Eve, mostly because of how few people were over. My Christmas spirit is at an all-time low, and my own family is mostly to blame.
But you know… Life isn’t all bad. You see…
About two hours ago, and 6681 kilometres from where I currently sit, a golden-haired boy bolted down the stairs from his room. Still wearing his pyjamas, of course. He looked under the tree and saw a great multitude of presents. Closer inspection revealed that a good portion of these were addressed to him. From friends and relatives, and one from Santa. He saved that one for last. He opened each gift, one by one. His pace increased as he drew ever closer to Santa’s gift. The presents were about evenly split between clothes and toys. While he was disappointed whenever he opened a gift to find a new sweater, he at least pretended to be appreciative. Finally, it was time to open Santa’s gift. He tore open the wrapping paper, silently praying that he wouldn’t find coal, and lo and behold… it was exactly what he wanted. He smiled widely and laughed with delight. His family smiled too, for they loved seeing him happy.
A little later today, he and his family will sit down and eat a massive feast featuring a turkey for dinner. He’ll be surrounded by people who love and care for him, and he’ll have good food, too.
He’s happy right now, that little golden-haired boy. I just know he is.
Dan is happy. And so, the world is good.
Merry Christmas to you all.