esrosedotblog

The phrase "christmas tree" arose in family conversation today.

A perennial event. The first naming, the first hint of broader issues, the first touching of raw and ancient nerves.

At one level I would like to be shut of the whole thing. Having survived 77 of these times, one would think that enough was enough.

But apparently not.

At best, I am ambivalent.

On one hand there are many happy memories of the day. Little kids and all. Lights. On the other are the collection of the grisly memories of special days gone awry, trees toppled, turkey burned and presents that didn't fit.

My parents had a talent to hear my wishes from Santa Claus and then, somehow, distort them into a kind of reality that rarely matched the thoughts.

I remember a set of skis which I did not want, would not try out (once on an icy hill, see, they don't work!) and so on.

When I came to be in charge of the holiday for my own family we had some good times and the tree was always just the best it could be. But there is something missing from the childhood experience, always.

Not the actual childhood experience but the unfulfilled original fantasy of the childhood experience. The sad taste of misunderstood expectations.

Now that I am older adult, no longer an active member of the fatherhood commitment to creating a happy holiday (we did a pretty good job I think) I am now graduated from the annual bustle. I will not do any shopping nor do I want any done for me, fat chance.

I seceded from the card committee last year. No more snowmen or manic search for "holiday cards, non denominational and non-religious.

It used to be that the first encounter with the holiday occurred on Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. Now it is the day after Halloween.

But that is to be expected. Modern times, warp speeds. All that.

There is no conclusion here. Only that it has begun. The good tidings. The cheer. The bah and the humbug.

Can I just wish you a happy holiday and let it go at that?

Labels: holidays