Dave tells the story of how he once almost ruined Christmas:
Our family loves the holidays. We have always embraced the full experience of this cultural mash-up of a season: cozy-winter-and-sparkly-light-gorgeousness, gift-giving and -getting, and religious re-centering. We have always had, on balance, positive feelings about the season.
But you’d have to be asleep not to see that there is a shady side to it all. At a certain point, our children began to pick up on some of the absurd ironies of the season. It’s a strange moment for a parent when their child calls out the human race because they’ve witnessed crowds of sparkly-peace-on-earth-sweater wearing people trample each other in order to save 40% on a new widescreen TV. Are we proud of our blossoming cynics? Or do we grieve their loss of innocence?
I myself have always been kind of a cynic when it comes to commercialism [“Kind of?” -Anghelika], and for me it was definitely pride. The kids began to realize that happiness was not inside the wrapped presents, that the extreme levels of anticipation around the holiday were near impossible to satisfy, even when their hot little hands finally held The Toy. Post Christmas Crash was becoming a thing. But these realizations did little to reduce the intensity of gift-time on Christmas day. And so, a few years ago, I hatched A Plan. And I thought the family was ready.
It was cooly brilliant. Part of me still thinks it was a master stroke against the spirit of the age, and that it was destined to become a viral phenomenon after I blogged about its inevitable success. It was that good. Except that it almost ruined Christmas.
The Plan hinged on surgically separating Christmas from its evil twin, Xmas. We all know what Christmas is. Christmas is where the whole peace on earth deal comes from—a time to remember the arrival of God in the form of an infant child with a timeless message of peace and reconciliation for all people. Xmas? Xmas put that timeless message on an ugly sweater in sparkly cursive under a soft-sculpture of Rudolf. The time had come to put Xmas in its place.
I proposed the Plan to the family some years back just as the Muzak in the stores was starting to transition to endless loops of Los Vegas Lounge-Gospel. I might as well have used Power Point:
- X-mas has taken over the holiday. We aim to take it back.
- No presents on Christmas, only Christ.
- Christmas morning is for family: nice breakfast, fire in the fireplace, family prayers, walks … Peace On Earth.
Then, in the days after Christmas, we can have X-mas:
- Hit the malls while the rest of humanity is still sorting and recycling wrapping paper.
- Everything will be on super sale!
- Buy each other stuff, see a movie, go out to dinner … Merry X-mas!
The plan had it all: Christmas day without the madness (nobody’s ever been trampled in our living room, but emotions can run high); family excursions during the vacation days after Christmas; a relaxed trip to the stores where we all get to buy something special; and big savings. I felt like a genius. But there was a problem. Nobody else liked the idea.
On the night I proposed the Plan, I was so convinced of its greatness, I was blind to my family’s increasing discomfort. I was like a bargain hunter on black friday: nothing was going to stop me from pulling off my Plan, and if a few traditions need to be trampled on the way to the prize, that would be an acceptable sacrifice. I might as well have been that guy in the news report clawing past less-motivated shoppers, knocking stuffed-flannel reindeer antlers off left and right.
After some extremely tense discussion, there was grudging acceptance. After all, how do you argue with Saving Christmas? I had essentially described a crusade against gifts on the biggest gift-giving day of the year, and backed it up with religious zeal—resistance was futile (or at least suspect). The family had little choice but to try my idea. But Anghelika was sad to have our kids wake up to no gifts on Christmas morning, and the kids, who probably did not know what to make of the whole thing, backed her up when they saw that she was the one who might actually be able to save Christmas. A compromise was agreed upon. We would open stocking gifts on Christmas morning, and implement the Plan for our main gifts. Of course, here in America, our stockings are not small. These are nothing like socks: they are mini burlap sacks decorated by the same people that brought you the sparkly peace-on-earth sweaters. You could say the stockings were the Trojan Horse that let X-mas back into our home on December 25th and spoiled my Plan. But, today I am willing to admit what should have been clear at the start … the Plan was already spoiled.
We followed through with it as best we could. We opened stocking gifts on Christmas morning, followed by a big cooked breakfast, a warm fire, some readings from scripture, and family walks outside in the chill. If everyone was mildly depressed, I chose to see it as a much-needed reduction of emotional intensity. A couple days later, we hit the mall for Xmas, where we found that either the multitudes were getting a head start on next year’s shopping, or that each and every one of them had the exact same idea as me. It was crowded, noisy, and the salespeople were not very happy to be there. The worst part was that it wasn’t much fun just buying things for each other. This was not gift-giving … it was shopping. It was a day at the mall. Merry Xmas.
Where did it all go wrong? The assumption behind my scheme was that family is more important than tradition, and I could change the tradition at will for the good of our family. Sounds reasonable. Except that family is not separate from tradition … the two are intertwined. The removal of one threatens the other. Without family, there can be no tradition, of course. But the opposite is true as well: adding or removing a tradition arbitrarily can harm the bonds of family. Traditions are the expression of generations of family practice. Whether they are the beautiful rituals passed down from our ancestors, or the quirky habits that are only a generation old (jellied cranberry sauce in a can, I’m looking at you), traditions are connections to our past, and do a lot to keep us connected in the present. Traditions are part of family, and should not be trifled with.
I do not love the crass commercialism of the holidays. But I do love me some wonderful people who love giving and getting gifts. So who am I to take away an important part of their holiday because I have a gripe with the world?
The Plan has been retired, buried under a mountain somewhere to make it safe for families to celebrate the holidays again. I won’t be messing around with Christmas anymore. I’ve learned that it’s not my job to critique and do away with the traditions of the past. Maybe now that my head is a little more clear, I can begin to think about what traditions I’d like add for my grandchildren to enjoy, along with their other gifts.
This post originally appeared on the Parenting On The Peninsula Blog