Merry Christmas

Statistically, a lot of people go crazy ’round the holidays, most likely the result of their expectations not matching with their realities. I’ve always been fond of the Christmas season, the sentiments being to be generous and thoughtful — cheerful and celebratory with the people you love.

When I was a young boy, Christmas meant secret presents under the tree, letting my mind run wild with expectations. I was almost always disappointed after opening my gifts — but the next year I’d renew the aspirational excitement and hoped Santa got it right that year.

When I was around 10, I finally learned Santa Claus wasn’t real and it shook me to my core. A part of me was destroyed, the magic of Christmas would never be the same…until I had kids of my own.

With my kids, my wife and I really went above and beyond to give them that magical feeling that, unfortunately, is fleeting for a very brief period during a lifetime. We’d leave the cookies for Santa, carrots for Rudolph, and hope to receive whatever we had wished for in the months and weeks heading into the holiday.

It’s true to say I was an active participant in forgetting the true meaning of Christmas, something I complain about now as an older man. The consumerism I decry as being “evil” is something that I’ve partaken in ever since I hoped and dreamed to receive the gifts of my dreams back when I was 6. Alas the nuance of life and the varying degrees of hypocrisy laid bare for all the world to see.

We’re all hypocrites, to some degree. There are things that I want in theory but perhaps would loathe in practice. Idealism is really something that is best practiced inside one’s mind, sort of like communism. It sounds nice for everyone to be happy and healthy — but would it ever work in real life — especially given the innumerable ways humans tend to fork one another?

My Grandfather used to stick decorations around the house and sing songs in his eloquent deep baritone voice and make struffolis and adorn the table with a Christmas feast of the very first order. He’d build a hundred paper airplanes for me and shoot them around his 6th floor apartment for me to chase around all day, telling me tall tales about past Christmases and when he once saw Santa in a sled from his Brooklyn window. I’d hang onto every word and never knew someone as creative and intelligent as he was, even though I’d notice, from time to time, his temper burned pretty hot. My Mother and Uncles never knew this person. They knew someone far worse, who was now reformed and the same could be said about my Grandmother.

We all take lessons from previous generations and if we’re paying close attention we can become better. My hopes for my children is to be better and live a happier life than me, hopefully passing down this trait to future generations and live peacefully with people who love them.

Cheers to you and your families and thank you for your patronage and the attention you’ve given me all these years. I am grateful.

Fly

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