I never really liked the add-on legend of rewarding kids for doing the right thing, never mind the fact that Santa Claus was much mote generous with kids from more affluent families. I had neighborhood friends whose parents had a $150 budget per kid {the dollar was worth a lot more back then). I wasn't envious of the others, but kids often compare notes on what they got on special occasions.
I may have written in the past of how I found out there wasn't a real Santa. I don't remember when I figured it out myself--I probably realized that packaged toys weren't handcrafted at the North Pole (although the folks did label some gifts as being from them, not Santa). I didn't ponder metaphysical aspects, e.g., how did Santa physically deliver billions of presents overnight? It wasn't discussions with other kids, but by fourth grade I was already an agnostic on Santa; I didn't share those doubts with my siblings; it was more like 'go with the flow': I get presents--who cares about the specifics?
But one day my first-grade brother came to me and raised a question about Santa:who did I think it really was. It was important for the big brother not to lose face by admitting I didn't know. So I did what any all-knowing big brother would do--I bluffed. Process of elimination--one man in the house. I stroked my chin and told him, "I thought I saw black stubble under that fake beard." My wide-eyed brother knew one person with black stubble. "Mom! Dad! Ronald said that Dad is Santa!" Technically not true--I did realize my brother would make the inference. but my parents weren't about to quibble over what the definition of 'is' is. My Dad was super-pissed; he whacked my bottom a few times. "Just because you know doesn't mean you have to spoil it for the others!"
Several years later the family of one of my sisters (#3) was visiting my folks for the holiday and talked me into playing Santa (My nephews didn't realize Uncle Ronald disappeared. They sat one of nephews on my lap, and he started screaming. (He liked Uncle Ronald, but Santa Claus terrified him.) That was my first and last time of playing Santa.
Gift exchanges became more difficult and expensive as I got older with 6 siblings and 21 nephews and nieces; in tough times, it narrowed down to my folks and my younger goddaughters. I didn't have kids and have been reasonably well-paid during my career; I just go out and buy things; my mom hasn't visited, doesn't know what I have and don't have. I normally held off discretionary spending near year-end and sent Mom a list of ideas.
Dad is a tougher person to buy for, but, for example, he likes beer and had always talked of brewing his own batch. A Dominican brother at UH Newman was familiar with "The Village" shops near Rice University, one of which sold kits with buckets, a capper and mixes (I remember getting bottles, of all things. was a hassle). Dad seemed pleased, but I remember the stuff had disappeared by a year or two later; maybe Dad decided it was a lot easier to grab a six-pack at the supermarket. Epic failure! Mom is easier since she collects things and is very religious. One Christmas I sent a collection of classic Catholic movies DVDs. I've bought her a multiple-disk music box with movable figures, collectible plates and figures, some items from the Vatican Library Collection, and some inlaid semi-precious sone artwork from an eBay vendor. More recently I've sent volumes from St. John Bible calligraphy project (see below). But the point here was to pick out a rather unique gift, not so much the cost. Some gifts were more of a hit than others; my folks with 21 grandkids have limited wall space; on the other hand sister #3's daughter LOVED the music box.
As for the nonsense of say, gift exchanges at work, I hate that stuff with a passion. Not to mention holiday parties where some people get a little too drunk. I don't shop on Black Friday or Cyber Monday. And I never understood why my grandfather and uncle exchanged boxes of cigars. (They smoked one every Sunday afternoon.) Isn't that a wash?
But to be honest, I get tired of the predictable nonsense:
- the annual court battles over Nativity scenes: I don't know which is worse: the people who feel threatened enough by liberty of religious expression or those whom seem to think religious liberty is at stake (you can set up Nativity scenes on house lawns, at churches, inside homes, etc. ) Atheists love to jerk the chains of Christians this time of year: don't give them the publicity they want,
- The importance of Christmas is disproportionately emphasized. Easter is far more important from a doctrinal perspective.
- I dislike the Santa legend. I don't like the sense of entitlement, a God-like judgment, and rewarding kids for doing the right thing, and an unrealistic business model.
- So help me if I hear one more holiday movie bashing successful businesses or businessmen as greedy, heartlessly shutting down factories just in time for Christmas...
But I realize the season is a cultural tradition. I still remember singing carols in the car when my dad worked at a military base on Cape Cod visiting our relatives in the Fall River area. I used to watch the annual Macy's parade on TV, the annual specials (Charlie Brown, Grinch, Frosty, Rudolph, etc., plus Andy Williams, Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, .. I had VHS or DVD Christmas movies, over a dozen holiday LP's or CD's. Plus, I usually went home for Christmas until the final decade or so.
When did it change for me? I may have previewed the story in past posts. After leaving Oracle Consulting in late 1998, I joined a now-defunct consulting company in DC. I had just started working at a client site in Glen Burnie (a Baltimore suburb). The prior DBA consultant hadn't worked out, and so I was obsessed with getting getting the project back on track. The company agreed to let me fly to Texas rather than back home to Chicago. My flight to Texas went through Atlanta. I did go to the CEO's house for the company annual holiday party (I hate these things with a passion but one needs to be part of the team). But it suddenly dawned on me I hadn't done one of my annual rituals--it was work as usual, no TV specials or movies, no Christmas music. It seemed as it really wasn't Christmas. What surprised me was how ambivalent I was about it. My outbound flight to Texas from Atlanta was grounded overnight ; I got a hotel room and headed out early the next morning Christmas Eve. Except for Christmas music from muffled loudspeakers and a few people wearing holiday clothes or silly (reindeer) hats, it didn't even feel like Christmas. Faith Hill's song perfectly expresses my feelings.
