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(In which I look back on the events of my life and try to figure out why I no longer feel any joy this time of year.)
I used to enjoy Christmas. When I was a boy, I looked forward to getting presents that day -- usually new toys and games, and the occasional article of clothing. Dad would film my sister and I opening our gifts with his 8mm film camera and light bar. We'd also get together with the extended family -- my father's three sisters and their families -- and have Christmas dinner together. They'd take turns hosting the annual event.
In the '80s, I noticed that the Christmas season seemed to be a big buildup starting on the day after Thanksgiving, peak on Christmas Day, and then it was business as usual on the 26th. I also became aware of the rampant commercialism of the holiday.
Then I moved away in 1989 for work. I didn't return home for Christmas due to the threat of inclement weather, which would have made driving on I-90 treacherous. I also had no other family or relatives here in Dayton. The nearest relatives were in Lorain, about 30 miles west of Cleveland, and I wan't close to them at all.
And then, in the 1990s, I left the Catholic faith. I got tired of the hierarchy, or as I called it, "the oldest of old-boy networks", telling us how we should think and live our lives. Have you ever wondered why Christmas -- the birth of Christ -- is celebrated on December 25? Because some pope in the 4th century decreed it as such. It coincided with the observance of Saturnalia, and that pope didn't want his people to be left out of the festivities. And so, Christmas became "not my holiday".
Something else I've been missing since I moved here: the observance of Hanukkah. Even as far back as kindergarten, I've had Jewish friends who shared their holiday with me. We spun dreidels, had potato pancakes, sang and played Hanukkah songs in our holiday concerts, and heard the story about the the Jewish people taking refuge in their temple and the oil in the lamp in the temple lasting for eight days. We were multicultural before the term was even coined or even trendy, and no one complained about this at all. I often feel that I'm in Goys' Town USA because there's little to no mention of this holiday here.
Christmas is about family. Where's my family? I'm all alone now. Mom and Dad are dead and gone. My sister is in Colorado. I've been divorced since 2007. I still have relatives in Buffalo, but it's rare that I hear from them. I'm usually the one who initiates contact with them; they don't call or write unless I do so first.
And so I stopped decorating for Christmas. I haven't put up a tree since the divorce. I haven't put lights up on the condo. I don't even hang a wreath on the door any more. It's just too much work to put everything up, only to take it down a couple of weeks later.
For me, December 25 has just another day. But I do like the feeling and sense of stillness I notice from sundown on Christmas Eve to midnight (00:00) on December 26. It's like all the machinery keeping the world going has stopped for a short time.
I used to enjoy Christmas. When I was a boy, I looked forward to getting presents that day -- usually new toys and games, and the occasional article of clothing. Dad would film my sister and I opening our gifts with his 8mm film camera and light bar. We'd also get together with the extended family -- my father's three sisters and their families -- and have Christmas dinner together. They'd take turns hosting the annual event.
In the '80s, I noticed that the Christmas season seemed to be a big buildup starting on the day after Thanksgiving, peak on Christmas Day, and then it was business as usual on the 26th. I also became aware of the rampant commercialism of the holiday.
Then I moved away in 1989 for work. I didn't return home for Christmas due to the threat of inclement weather, which would have made driving on I-90 treacherous. I also had no other family or relatives here in Dayton. The nearest relatives were in Lorain, about 30 miles west of Cleveland, and I wan't close to them at all.
And then, in the 1990s, I left the Catholic faith. I got tired of the hierarchy, or as I called it, "the oldest of old-boy networks", telling us how we should think and live our lives. Have you ever wondered why Christmas -- the birth of Christ -- is celebrated on December 25? Because some pope in the 4th century decreed it as such. It coincided with the observance of Saturnalia, and that pope didn't want his people to be left out of the festivities. And so, Christmas became "not my holiday".
Something else I've been missing since I moved here: the observance of Hanukkah. Even as far back as kindergarten, I've had Jewish friends who shared their holiday with me. We spun dreidels, had potato pancakes, sang and played Hanukkah songs in our holiday concerts, and heard the story about the the Jewish people taking refuge in their temple and the oil in the lamp in the temple lasting for eight days. We were multicultural before the term was even coined or even trendy, and no one complained about this at all. I often feel that I'm in Goys' Town USA because there's little to no mention of this holiday here.
Christmas is about family. Where's my family? I'm all alone now. Mom and Dad are dead and gone. My sister is in Colorado. I've been divorced since 2007. I still have relatives in Buffalo, but it's rare that I hear from them. I'm usually the one who initiates contact with them; they don't call or write unless I do so first.
And so I stopped decorating for Christmas. I haven't put up a tree since the divorce. I haven't put lights up on the condo. I don't even hang a wreath on the door any more. It's just too much work to put everything up, only to take it down a couple of weeks later.
For me, December 25 has just another day. But I do like the feeling and sense of stillness I notice from sundown on Christmas Eve to midnight (00:00) on December 26. It's like all the machinery keeping the world going has stopped for a short time.
