My Night Before Christmas

My Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas for this crafter of blogs,
And what needed a break were my mind's gears and cogs.

I'd spent the year banging at these keys with delight;
Sometimes laughs I'd elicit; sometimes ire I'd incite.

But I wanted to take some time off for a rest.
I wanted to start the New Year at my best.

Remote in my hand, 'fore my TV I plopped,
With my martini chilled and popcorn freshly popped.

I wanted a movie - I didn't want news.
A break from debate was what I could use.

When what to my wondering ears did I hear?
Not my home theater's speakers, but something quite weird.

It sounded like hooves tearing up my front grass.
In a fluster, I almost tipped over my glass.

Then suddenly helping himself to my couch
Was dear old St. Nick. What the heck's that about?

"Hey, Santy Claus," I said with a smirk,
"I don't mean to pry - why aren't you at work?"

"Hello, little boy," he said to this man.
"I'm here to bestow just one gift, if I can."

"I made you a present; it took but a wink:
The chance to make everyone think like you think."

"Every piece that you write, every column you post,
Will meet with agreement from East to West Coast."

I wasn't sure how my response should begin.
I said, "Are you kidding?" I sniffed at my gin.

"Your drink's not been spiked," Santa went on to say.
"And you haven't had too much...not yet, anyway."

I said, "I thought miracles were what's-His-name's game;
The one whose day of celebration's the same."

Santa said, "Sure. He's got miracle clout.
But every so often I like to stretch out."

"So I'm here to tell you dissent won't exist;
Not one single misspelled retort will be missed."

"Put pencil to paper, boy; soon you will see
That with all of your words the whole world will agree."

The offer was tempting as it laid there unfurled.
I think I'm right - why not the world?

But I just looked at Santa, and all I could ask:
"What good is opinion not taken to task?"

We must all offer comment, we must all criticize.
We must cross uncrossed T's and dot dotless I's.

We should stand and defend that in which we believe;
To do anything less would be simply naive.

"I thank you, but no," I said to Old Claus.
"And destroy that gift now, with great haste and no pause."

"Not one single man should have such verbal might;
And all should be ready for an opining fight."

"Are you sure that you're sure?" Santa asked with a grin.
"You know that this offer will not come again."

But I just said, "Hey, while it's tempting, for sure,
Life without debate would become quite a bore."

Then Santa flew off in his red hat and coat.
So I fired up the PC and ditched the remote.

"I take issue with something..." I started to write.
Merry Key-Banging to all, and to all a good night.

Happy Holi...no. Merry Chri...no. Merpy Holimas! Yes!

I woke up one Saturday morning and realized that I needed to go Christmas shopping. I could have surfed the Internet, but it wouldn't have been the same.

I wanted to risk a hernia by lifting the circular-stuffed newspaper. I wanted to jump in my car and choose a radio station that played Christmas music all day, interrupted only by commercials that promoted nothing more than an overrated cleverness at rewriting the words to "The Twelve Days of Christmas" so that the last word of the jingle rhymes with "cordless."

I wanted to battle traffic, with lead-foots behind me and lead-brains in front. I wanted to spend three hours searching for a parking spot, and then settle for a space farther from the mall than my house is. I wanted to be greeted by the ringing of the Salvation Army's Bell of Holiday Guilt. I wanted to dodge department store perfume commandos. I wanted to apply swift, defensive leg maneuvers on coupon-bearing elves. I wanted to fight my way through the food court's throngs of patrons (who really don't need to court anymore food to begin with). And I wanted to find everything I needed, provided everything I needed was in the wrong size, wrong color, and wrong price-range.

It was August 23rd.

Okay, I exaggerate; but, Christmas WAS in full swing in many stores on November 1st, leaving no time for the good Halloween candy to be devoured, and the bobo candy to just sit there in the bowl, forever unwanted. Given the cyclically-changing song sung by the retail industry at the end of every third quarter (break-even in good times, desperation in lean), it comes as no surprise that each year, the day many reserve to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ has been transformed into the months (yes, plural) that will pull the butts of box stores and boutiques alike out of another year's red ink. No sooner is Frankenstein folded or deflated or peeled off the glass, Santa Claus is there in his place, and every retail outlet is awash in a sea of red and green and silver and gold, piping in holiday standards by the likes of Bing Crosby, The Carpenters, Harry Connick Jr., and John Tesh. Oh, the horror of Tesh.

But all of this, and so much more (MUST Santa arrive at the mall by parachute?), is at the root of what puzzles me about one particular "front" in the so-called "War on Christmas." And I'm not picking one side over another here; both sides puzzle me.

The particular front I'd care to address concerns the utterance of "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas" when a store employee offers a greeting or a valediction to a customer. In the corner to my left are those who think that when a store clerk says "Merry Christmas," that clerk is using the occasion to force Christianity down the customer's throat. In the corner to my right are those who think that when a store clerk says "Happy Holidays," that clerk is using political correctness to undermine Christianity.

The puzzling part is that both corners are so busy being offended, neither can see that they are both to blame for the very problem that has introduced military euphemisms into the season of peace, love, and snowflakes. The problem is that a long time ago, someone put their secular chocolate into someone else's spiritual peanut butter, and Christmas became a religious day enrobed in materialism.

You folks in the right corner helped create this dilemma when you shared your day with Macy's, Gimbels, et al., in a move that could be considered a precursor to stadium-naming rights. No, Christmas Day is not called "Sears Christmas Day," but the materialistic mentality of retail is associated with Christmas at a Pavlovian level. In fact, Christmas has become the movie star of holidays, and you must take some of what you think is negative along with all of the good press the day gets. If that means sometimes hearing "Happy Holidays," that's on you.

You folks in the left corner aren't without blame, either. Even though you've lived there for decades and you've earned a certain latitude, you can't rent a house and then complain that the owner doesn't like what you've done with it. Sure, you can argue that thanks to spectacular advertising campaigns and deep discounts, Christmas Day gets more exposure than every other Christian holiday combined (including Easter), but you have to consider what made you pick Christmas in the first place, and at least have respect for the day's origins. If that means sometimes hearing "Merry Christmas," that's on you.

What we (and by we I mean all us, whether our church has an altar or a cash register) are left to contend with is somehow separating the chocolate from the peanut butter on this Reese's Cup (Jesus Cup?). Unfortunately for both sides, that isn't going to happen overnight, if at all. As I see it, there are three options.

The first option is for the folks in the right corner to move the holy day of Christmas to another date and return it to its humble, spiritual beginnings. Part of me thinks that this would serve you right for subletting such an important day, sometimes to patently cheesy ends (Exhibit A: the Fisher Price Nativity Set). However, you had the date first, so you get first dibs. I'll go out on a limb and guess you'd like to keep your date.

The second option is for the folks in the left corner to take Secular Christmas and not only move the date, but rename it as well. I recommend calling it MichaelNaz Day and shifting it to August, where there are no holidays to be found. This, too, is unlikely to happen, as too many good Secular Christmas songs reference the cold, and the last thing I want to think about in 100-degree August heat are chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Plus, the first boy to buy one of The Girls a string bikini for Chri...MichaelNaz Day would create a conflict so great, it would simply crush any and all holiday cheer. I can't have that.

Since you are stuck with each other, you are left with the third option: Get over it. Both of you.
Hey Left, stop being paranoid. Christians are not secretly trying to recruit you into Christianity through mystical verbal hypnosis. Saying "Merry Christmas" is, at the very least, a long tradition that is done with best of intentions. Besides, a statement of "Merry Christmas" by the woman who just sold you three-for-one smelly soaps is about as far from Jesus as you can get. And you spent enough money to get the free tote bag, so be merry.

Hey Right, stop being paranoid. Stores are about making money, not spreading the Good Word. If a store owner thinks the best way to make money is to be as inclusive as possible, and if a store owner thinks that saying "Happy Holidays" is more inclusive, then it's a business decision, not a religious one. Besides, with the shopping season covering three major holidays (Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Day), "Happy Holidays" is pleasant, accurate, and a little more digestible on November 1st, some 54 days before Christmas (imagine saying "Happy Halloween" on Labor Day). And you got a free tote bag too, so be happy.

Merpy Holimas, everybody!