Carv's Thinky Blog I'm an author with a focus on satirical science fiction.

23Dec/110

Jukebox

Every year, it seems, I write a new Christmas message, devoid of my usual cynicism and skepticism (they are different, by the way), replacing both with my heartfelt wish that you, Gentle Reader, have a marvelous holiday and a better new year. That was proving to be difficult this time around. I searched for inspiration all week. Not that I haven't had a terrific year myself, mind you; it's been one for the record books. Twelve months ago I had yet to pop the question to Amanda, sweat the answer, or celebrate the results. I'd just started writing for Cengage, a gig for which I felt I was still auditioning. Since then I've joined the middle class, so I'm the rare lucky schmuck who's come out of the recession in better shape than when it began. Instead of creepy roommate drama, I fall asleep each night in the embrace of a scrapper with a tender heart. I'm sitting in my office with the Waitresses rapping into my headphones, having just left a schmaltzy holiday revue. It's Christmas all up and down in my world, yet I haven't been able to shake a demoralizing case of the bah, humbugs.

I wasn't raised on Santa's lap. As most of you know, my parents were Jehovah's Witnesses, so I knew the fat man was a myth from day one. I also knew Jesus wasn't born in December, that his "birthday" is really just a glorified winter solstice party, and jolly Saint Nick may as well be a registered trademark of the Coca-Cola Company. Usually none of that matters, and I accept Christmas as a joyous time to chug eggnog and relax with family and friends in the warm glow of a shopping mall cineplex.

But this year, I couldn't pull myself out of a yuletide funk. It had nothing to do with anything anyone said or did. No one's been unkind to me, the creditors aren't baying at the door, the tree is all merrily a-twinkle. I should've been happy as a child with a Toys 'R' Us gift certificate. But when I tried to look ahead to Christmas, I could only look back. I remembered the afternoon Mom and I watched skaters in Rockefeller Center, reenacting Schoolhouse Rock's "Figure 8" while John Lennon wished us all a "Happy Christmas (War Is Over)" over loudspeakers. Meanwhile, our troops were headed into Iraq and Afghanistan, and the Twin Towers' footsteps were still ugly gashes in a heartbroken island. I couldn't get that memory out of my head. Why, you ask? I haven't a clue.

But here's the thing about late December: the days are too short, and the nights are damn cold. We need Christmas. We all need it, true believers and Grinches alike. So just for now, just for a little while, can't I leave all my usual hopelessnesses aside?

Let's pretend, just for now, we're neither Republicans nor Democrats, men nor women, gay nor straight, simply humans of no particular color. Let's pretend we're neither Christians nor Jews nor Muslims nor none-of-the-aboves. I know it's the Lord's special day, and I wish Him well on it, but Christmas is bigger than one religion these days. Every human needs Christmas. We need to feel blessed and loved. We need to feel we're part of a family, and we need that family to sing together, billions strong. We long to hear the music of a planet at peace.

So put on the music you love this starry night, hold that special someone close, and raise a glass to the sacrifices and lessons of so many who helped us arrive at this moment when all is calm, all is bright.

Merry Christmas, my friends. May this new year bring us perfect gifts of laughter, music, and love.

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  1. Well, I’ve been a little down these days, too. And to top it off, the event I was most looking forward to this season has been postponed. Boo!


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