It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas … and I love it.
That’s right. I’m one of those freaky, enthusiastic people who loves Christmas and who gets judged and ridiculed for it by visibly showing my excitement (and endorsing retailers for doing the same) anytime before the day my belly is stuffed full of tryptophan and regret.
Deplorable, horrid, happy people, aren’t we?
It started—as usual—the first week of November. The Target elves were busily setting up trees and stocking bins with shiny rolls of wrapping paper; Starbucks unveiled their new-and-questionably-improved GREEN holiday cup; our muzak station at work threw in a Christmas song about every five in the rotation; Amazon flooded my newsfeed with gift guides; Santa’s house appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the mall; and I may or may not have added my Christmas playlists back on my phone and listened to Mariah Carey tell me all she wants for Christmas is me on repeat for half an hour.
Too early? Not for me.
Never for me.
But there’s a huge contingent of people out there who seem to think we should all adhere to their timeline and who find their joy not in jingle bells but in judgment. They roll their eyes and complain that it’s too early for
happiness smiles excitement Christmas; that by the time mid-December rolls around they’re so sick of it already. They admonish that we should fully celebrate Thanksgiving (to which I say, I do—I’m thankful for Christmas).
I’ve already heard the complaints this year: The music this early drives them crazy. The mall decorations are obnoxious. The commercialism is disgusting. The lit lights are ridiculous. How is it possible for Santa to be here and away from the North Pole at this crucial time?? (Okay, fine, the last one came from me and is a valid question.)
But I wonder.
This year, especially after the dividing events of the past week’s election, aren’t the lights and the cheer and the happy and meaningful music sorely needed? Regardless of the holiday you celebrate, isn’t the shared joy it creates something we can—and perhaps should—all get behind, even if it is “too early?”
I think so, and regardless of the Grinches who tell me differently, I’m—as usual—jumping in with both Santa socked feet. I’m drinking HO HO Mochas and listening to The Carpenters. I’m buying Christmas lights, putting them up, and turning them on. I’m reorganizing my wrapping paper tubs and buying more (paper and tubs). Today I’m putting up my basement tree, hanging lights over my bar, and making sure it’s stocked with plenty of Baileys. I’m singing loudly (which may or may not be a direct result of the Baileys) because it’s what I do, but this year it’s also to drown out the divisiveness and the hate, and I won’t apologize or feel ridiculous for any of it.
For I’ve grown a little leaner
Grown a little colder
Grown a little sadder
Grown a little older
And I need a little angel
Sitting on my shoulder
I need a little Christmas now.
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