December 10, 2005
Only a fortnight left until the holidays!
Plenty of time remains, though, for superwomen (and some supermen) to create miracles, a splendoras décor, joy for all, and a feast worthy of Paula Deen, famed Southern cook extraordinaire.
I figure, when I am 80, I can say or do anything and get away with it; such as, announcing that I will be in Hawaii from December 1 until January 2.
I will not decorate one whit. Nor will I cook.
I am tired.
I grumble that I need a break from Christmas.
This year, in our household, I sometimes want to live the movie “Christmas with the Kranks,” or so, I am quick to say. The movie, you may remember, is based on John Grisham’s novel, “Skipping Christmas.”
The Grisham classic is explained by its publisher, Doubleday, this way:
“Imagine a year without Christmas. No crowded malls, no corny office parties, no fruitcakes, no unwanted presents. That’s just what Luther and Nora Krank have in mind when they decide that, just this once, they’ll skip the holiday altogether…because on December 25, they’re setting sail on a Caribbean cruise.”
Here’s the rub—no matter how much I might protest that I want to find my own Jimmy Buffet Christmas Island with sand and palm trees and lots of sunshine, I could never skip Christmas.
Friends and family know that I am the biggest marshmallow of them all when it comes to the holiday season, despite my complaint that it is just too difficult to “keep all the balls in the air” anymore.
My family will not let me forget the year I zeroxed a newspaper story about tiny cedar trees along I-70 that are decorated yearly by some anonymous local elf.
I loved the story so much that I included it in my Christmas cards.
Year after year, as we drive along the highway, we cannot wait to see if and when the little trees will be decorated. When we first spot them, adorned with tinsel and ribbons, we are elated. They bring us joy in the simplest way as we drive past.
A friend in California, who received the newspaper clipping from me, wrote back and said, “You can’t fool me. You are the one who decorates the trees. I know you.”
I swear I am not, but I would love to be.
And speaking of Christmas cards and letters, if I do not get my newsy Christmas letter out by New Year’s Day, I start hearing from out-of-state folks who wonder why.
One year it did not get sent until Valentine’s Day, and another year it became a 4th of July newsletter. I think those were big hits just because they were unexpected. The point is, I always send my Christmas letter, no matter how late, and everyone knows it. I am a sucker for it, and for yours, too.
Yes, I admit it-- I love your Christmas letters, whether the practice is considered chic or not.
Another holiday tradition I am passionate about is watching Christmas movies.
I could never skip those, no matter how sentimental or sarpy the movie. Even if I went to an island for the holidays, I would have to take my DVDs.
What is better than making some hot chocolate and watching our favorites: Christmas Vacation, It’s a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, A Charlie Brown Christmas, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and the Bing Crosby/ Rosemary Clooney standard, White Christmas.
Despite how much I might say I want a holiday from the holiday, I know that skipping Christmas would likely only happen in the movies, not real life.
Perhaps, the question I really want to ask is “why can’t real life be more like the movies.”
Henry David Thoreau figured that out a long time ago when he penned this advice: “Live in each season as it passes; breathe air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each. Let them be your only diet drink and botanical medicines.”
Even Luther Krank finally arrived at the right conclusion: “Skipping Christmas. What a ridiculous idea.”
