I'ma Go Grinching

Had a strange experience at work this past week. I found that my shoes didn’t quite fit right. My feet felt… uncomfortably large. Either that, or the shoes themselves had shrunk. It was unpleasant, and the tiniest bit painful, and I wasn’t quite sure of the cause – that is, until I remembered that Thanksgiving was nearly upon us, and, with that particular holiday done, Christmas would not be far behind.

In case you missed it, I just wedged a Grinch metaphor into the introductory paragraph. It didn’t quite want to fit, but two or three whacks with a giant hammer made sure it got into place. Now, I believe I’ve mentioned in the past that, while I used to be particularly fond of Christmas, I find it harder and harder to be jolly as the years go by. This year, I’ve found myself anticipating Christmas with two full cups of disgust and just a hint of dread. I’m not quite in full Grinch mode yet, but, if I were you, I’d keep an eye on your Who-Pudding when I’m around, just in case.

I’m trying to focus on the things about Christmas I like: the Christmas movies, the plentiful excuses to hang with family and friends, the music… although that last one’s pretty tough. I tend to favor the more solemn Christmas “hymns” – like “Silent Night” or “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” (and I totally DID put that comma in the right place – philistines) – to the more inane carols like “Frosty the Snowman” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Although, here I have to admit that I enjoy a few notorious holiday songs more than most. Because of some good early memories I have associated with Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime,” I usually DON’T want to stab out my ears with a screwdriver when it comes on the radio. Also, I may be the only person in the world that still legitimately enjoys “The Hanukkah Song” by… *sigh*… Adam Sandler (may he be boiled in his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly in his heart).

Hm… while I just intended that last aside to be a derisive remark against Mr. Sandler and his unfortunate idea of “comedy,” I think it actually comes off a bit anti-Semitic, don’t you?

Anyway, focus… Last year I made the point that Christmas is a time for remembering. It’s a shame if you missed it – made for a heckuva blog post. Now, I’m not the first person to make that point, and I doubt I’ll be the last. The trouble is, though, many of the memories I hold from Christmases past bring me just as much unrest (if not outright angst) as all the commercializing we so frequently condemn (yet simultaneously condone every Black Friday).

My favorite memories from Christmastime involve… (here, I struggled for a euphemism for several minutes, and found that I could do more than tell the unadorned, straightforward truth) girls I’ve dated in the past. I hooked up with my first girlfriend (you know, that eternally-youthful sweetheart that always appears perfect in the misted, halcyon memories of childhood… kinda like Winnie in The Wonder Years) two days before Christmas my junior year in high school. That… is a long story, probably better saved for another date.

Another favorite Christmas memory comes from a few years later: After spending the afternoon with my grandparents on Christmas day, I went to spend the rest of the evening with the girl I was dating at the time, who lived just a few blocks away. We curled up on the couch and watched the movie Chocolat – she lay in my arms, rubbing her stocking-clad feet against mine.

(Okay, I know this sounds silly, but, darn it, those socks are an important detail. I can’t quite explain why – well, I guess if we were both still wearing shoes, it’d be uncomfortable to rub our feet together like that, and if we were barefoot, it’d be weird. And gross. Cuz feet are gross.

Seriously, though, the whole scene of playing footsie in stocking-feet, warm and cozy on a cold Christmas night, has stuck with me ever since. I’ve tried to make a poem of it, but every time, it comes off more forced than any frickin’ Grinch analogy I’ve yet to devise, so it’s on the shelf right now)

For those of you who might be confused by the cacophony of ideas that have been fading in and out of this verbal orchestration since paragraph one, here’s where it all comes together to create a familiar tune: Christmas time can kinda suck if you’re single. I’ve spent every Christmas for the past few years either trying vainly to recreate old memories or lamenting their absence. I’m dreading Christmas this year because, frankly, I don’t want to put up with all these ghosts again.

So, with the Christmas season looming like a kidnapper with a burlap sack, it’s time to grit my teeth and face it. I’ve got no worries about commercialism or anything like that this year – my shopping’s all done, anyway (thank you, Black Friday). This year, I’m going ghost hunting – and I’m going on the offensive.

Here’s my plan of attack – a plan to recruit an army of new Christmas ghosts to combat the old ones:

1 – I’ma read A Christmas Carol. I’ve always maintained that Charles Dickens wrote one of the best novels of the English language here, and it’s been years since I’ve actually READ the freakin’ book. So, yeah, I’ll pick it up again.

2 – I’m kind of excited by this idea – I plan to write a series of poems based on/inspired by A Christmas Carol. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to do it before this moment – I thought maybe a poem inspired by a particularly well-written line. The whole ghost image above, though, gives me a few ideas… (ominous trail-off).

3 – I need to find a way to offer some service to others over the Christmas season, to make it a bit less self-centered. I may not do much. In fact, I may just participate in a few Sub-for-Santa activities. But seriously, if I hate Christmas so much when my only complaints at Christmastime are “my shoes don’t fit and I don’t have a girlfriend,” then I need perspective.

4 – And, speaking of perspective, I need to make this Christmas a bit more of a… spiritual affair. I KNOW what Christmas is supposed to be about (I’ve seen Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown). The fact that I’ve never really felt the “spirit of Jesus” during the month of December is probably more indicative of my failing as a Christian than anything else. Guess this is the year to remedy that.

…Oh, fine. Here’s a last one, with a bit of a barb in it.

5 – I will kill anyone who sings that unbelievably atrocious “Holiday Season” song.

Holy CATS, that song is terrible.