The Persistence of Joy
I’m taking a couple of steps away from Christmas this year.
It’s been a big part of my life for a long time. Christmas has a certain gravity to it, it pulls you in whether you want to or not. It’s everywhere. I’m no Scrooge, I enjoy Christmas, and for the first few years of parenthood it was as magical as it’s so often represented to be; seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child is the key, I think.
My kids are out of the house for the first time. I retired early this year, so the promise of a ton of time off holds no thrill. My wife is Jewish, and so while she celebrates Christmas, it’s more along the lines of Arbor Day (I exaggerate). We have a few decorations out, and the presents are sitting under our Christmas Table (my parents had a Christmas Chair for awhile, so it’s a tradition of sorts). While Christmas is still around, it’s been pushed into the background a little. We’ll open presents, then go to my daughter’s house for more present opening and Mexican food. That’s pretty much it.
We might watch Elf or something.
Even when the kids were young, I learned an important truth: Don’t put a ton of pressure on the actual day of Christmas. There’s so much baggage, and so much pressure to make it perfect.
Fuck perfect.
Make it fun, and easy, and enjoyable, and low stakes. Christmas season is a wonderful time, with most people attempting to be their best selves (or at least better selves). Be open to the magic at this time of year, and look for light. But the actual day, you’re gonna be exhausted by noon, and there’s all that wrapping to clean up, and then dinner to worry about, and cleaning up afterward, yadayadayada. Don’t make Christmas Day the focus. Just have fun. Enjoy Christmas Season, but cut Christmas Day some slack.
And with that, my favorite Christmas Season memory, presented without irony. The kids (both daughters, ages 4 and 5) and I were hanging Christmas lights, my first wife was in the house making lunch. My youngest turned around and audibly gasped. We all turned around.
A deer was walking across the lawns on the other side of the street, maybe 30 feet away. We all watched as it strolled, cautiously checking out the grass and trees and gardens, alert to danger.
“It’s a reindeer,” whispered my youngest in wonder.
A dog from one of the back yards barked.
Suddenly the deer jerked to alertness, and began bounding across the suburban yards, in that peculiar pogo-ing gait that deer have, with all four legs pistoning at once, so that with every jump he (she?) was bounding several feet into the air.
“He’s flying…” whispered my youngest, in a tone of nearly religious awe. “The reindeer’s flying!”
And that taught me all I needed to know about Christmas. That note in her voice of simple wonder and absolute belief shot through me like something electric. Joy and love, hope and belief, welled inside me. A belief, not of Santa, or reindeer, or even Christianity, but in family and continuity and connection.
A belief in the existence and persistence of joy.
Happy holidays everyone. I won’t try and sell you anything in this Christmas newsletter. I made a very cool sale last week, and I can’t tell you abut it yet, but I will after the new year comes around.
Peace.