Christmas is supposed to be an amazing time of the year. Those few precious days allow us to step outside our routine, surround ourselves with family and friends, and indulge — gleefully, might I add — in food and fun.
While the season is sparkly and chockfull of cheer, it also comes bearing all sorts of stresses: hunting for presents, planning feasts, crafting, decorating, entertaining. Growing up does something that you can’t prepare for as a child: it somehow takes the magic out of the holidays. When did Christmas get so complicated?
Dickens, Rockwell, Disney
It’s fascinating how throwing a backwards glance to yesterday’s Decembers still leaves me warm and tingly. I grew up in my maternal grandparents’ house, where any red-letter day was a considerable production. As the eldest grandchild and first grandson, I always received something wonderful, such as toys from caring relatives under the tree and money envelopes — allegedly from Santa Claus — in my Christmas stocking. Every 25th, my grandmother often placed me in charge of handing out cash gifts to those our family employed. From what I can recall, the house was always full of food and people.
You see, in my dreams, everyone is content and smiling. Perhaps it’s a longing to return to innocent times that makes those memories suspiciously beautiful. It could also be childhood nostalgia conflated with images of a Dickensian Christmas, translated by Hollywood into something more wholesome, Rockwellian and Disneyfied.
Christmas, after all, spoils the senses and amplifies one’s emotions. I noticed that this genius extends to movies that promote values relevant to the season: tradition, family, goodwill. I assume that classics such as Home Alone, Love Actually and even Meet Me in St. Louis — which isn’t strictly about the yuletide but is associated with it because of Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas — have done their part to raise expectations of our own holidays through the years. Either way, when we compare Christmas present with Christmas past, real or imagined, the current times never seem to stack up.
Expectations vs Reality
When one starts to insist that Christmas be how he or she imagines it, or tries to finesse the event into a preconceived vision, that’s where the trouble begins. The gap between reality and fantasy tends to lead to frustration, anger and disappointment. To keep my sanity, I’ve learned to trade pie-in-the-sky ideas for more down-to-earth ones.
I now allow my Christmases to evolve from year to year. Real magic happens when you forget grand ideals and embrace the festive season for what it brings — instead of what we bring to it — so I’ve adjusted my expectations accordingly. I decided that they will neither be motivated by the desire to recreate my fondest childhood musings nor spurred by a feeling of obligation to do or give more than I reasonably can or want to. The notion of a perfect Christmas is often the Scrooge, Grinch and smug bah-humbugger of our celebrations. Getting rid of that pressure is liberating.
More room to relax
When you think about it, Christmas is unbelievably simple, or at least it should be. It’s about a baby born in a humble manger to parents who did not foresee the detours that would take them to Bethlehem, then to Egypt, then back to Nazareth. As far as holiday themes go, one of unpreparedness is about as authentic as it gets.
I will always love Christmastime, from the sappy tunes and gaudy décor to Mr. Bing Crosby in a cardigan. The only difference is I’ve given myself more room to relax and enjoy it. If you expect little or nothing, anything good will be a fantastic surprise, so here’s to a very merry realistic Christmas.
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