Confession time: My Christmas decorations have been up since November 1, and I am not ashamed.
The un-passed-out Halloween candy was still intact and there I was, setting out my various Santa figurines. This is not the first year I have broken out the garland and Stewart tartan early, but this is the earliest I have ever un-packed these items.
Sue me!
I literally heard Lucille Ball, aka “Auntie Mame,” singing in my head, “We need a little Christmas, right this very minute!”
Call Christmas commercialized or hit me with any other anti-holiday sentiment you can conjure up, but I will always think “it’s the most wonderful time of the year.”
Sure, people can be rude when everyone is out at the stores, fighting for bargains. Sure, you will inevitably get a gift you know you will be re-gifting next year. Sure, people make it about the presents instead of the true reason for the season.
Argue with me all you want. I will still listen to every annoying Christmas song and watch every sappy Christmas movie.
Also since November, 1, I have been glued to the Hallmark Channel, with its insanely predictable happy endings of movies set in a never-ending sea of quaint, Christmas-ready towns.
Don’t get me wrong, Christmas has been a tough time of year for me since my mother died two years ago. That said, this was also her favorite time of the year, probably for the same reasons I love it so much.
Commercialism and grumpy shoppers aside, I believe in the whole romantic notion of this season of miracles. I also know that my sparkly tree trimmings and gift-wrap supplies make me smile.
In a world taken over by a virus and a heated presidential election, I will go out of my way to be close to anything that makes me smile, for I’ve “grown a little colder, grown a little sadder, grown a little older. And I need a little angel, sitting on my shoulder. Need a little Christmas now.”
Apparently, I’m not the only one, either. I have already seen Christmas lights glowing on other people’s houses. Good to know I am not the only one whose go-to coping mechanism is simply to escape reality.
Pine trees and inflatable dogs dressed as Santa won’t make the coronavirus disappear, but they may remind me, the way they do every year, about what is important: good will toward all men.
In all of the upheaval that’s come with the pandemic and the “us versus them” of the election, we have lost a lot of our good will. I know I lost some of mine. So, I went looking for it in the red and green plastic storage tubs in my basement.
“Haul out the holly!
Put up the tree before my spirit falls again.
Fill up the stocking!
I may be rushing things, but deck the halls!”
