No, it’s not because I’m Jewish or Muslim or Buddhist or Confucian. I’m a French-Irish ex-Catholic. And, no, it’s not because of any need to ‘put Christ back into Christ-mas. (There’s no doubt in my mind that if Jesus had any say in the matter, he’d opt out of not only doing Christmas, but being Christmas, out of sheer embarrassment.)
I didn’t do Christmas this year because, at 75, it finally occurred to me that Christmas fits the definition of insanity to a T – doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.
Think about it. Isn’t this what most of us have been doing all these years – entering into the Christmas madness every year (a little earlier each time) expecting that, this time it’s going to be different? This year, by golly, we’re going to be transformed into giddy, giggly fools, just like ol’ Ebenezer himself.
Let’s face it. Christmas is a disaster. No, it’s full-blown horror. It reminds us how unhappy we all really are. It reminds us how superficial our relationships really are. It reminds us how poor we really are. It reminds us how much we hate being manipulated. It reminds us how much we dislike feeling guilty. It reminds us how much we hate confronting those red kettles parked outside every supermarket on the planet.
OK, the good news. I think I’ve got a way I can be lured back to ‘the Christmas Spirit’ and maybe bring you with me. Here it is: We hold a national Secret Santa Lottery. We put all 313,731,079 of our names, including those of all those undocumented terrorists and rapists the Republicans hate so much, in a very large hat, and then we enlist a cadre of humble Hollywood celebrities to draw names on everyone’s behalf. The name drawn on your behalf is the only person you have to gift. What’s more, you don’t have to buy anything. In fact, you can’t. It’s against the rules. What you have to do is you have to make something. Yep, that’s right. You have to make something with your own hands. Your own heart. Your own soul. And then you have to send it to the giftee (by UPS, because the post Office is soon going to be out of business) with no return address. That’s it. That’s the new (old) Christmas.
Are you in?