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I am constantly amazed at how people in my city talk about the “spirit of Christmas”, of “holiday cheer” and all that “peace on earth goodwill towards mankind” gobbledygook when, at the end of it, I have evidence they don’t even believe in it.
Should I really be so shocked that I drove to Sam’s Club yesterday on a work-related errand only to see the horns come popping out of people’s heads? The bloated, self-indulgent masses corpulating and posturing themselves as defenders of their sovereign right to the last item on the shelf or the parking space that they didn’t wait five minutes to get is beyond me. As I watched the sad parade of belt-strapped children and wooden, steely-eyed mothers burping and shoving and yelling their way through aisles of overpriced bargains, I became saddened by the whole mess of it.
Was it the man in the parking lot, wearing a Santa hat while driving his brand new Cadillac Escalade, who began honking loudly, rolled down his window in front of women and children walking by and screamed out at the car who cut him off, “You stupid asshole motherfucker! That’s my fucking parking space you’re taking! Get the fuck out of there or I’m going to kill you, you stupid motherfucking son of a bitch,” before opening his door to pick a fight with his baseball bat? (Mind you, the car in front of him moved — you would, too, if you saw that guy carrying a bat and yelling)
Was it the woman with the jewel-encrusted crucifix around her neck who, while carrying a handful of gift wrapping paper, yelled at her crying daughter to “stop being a fucking brat” and took a swat at her as they stood in the middle of a line of people staring on in horror?
I’m not sure which one it was, and maybe it was just my good fortune to have been in Cordova for the one moment of the year where the congestion and the confusion fused together to form a bond of explosive stress. But I saw so clearly what was missing from the Christmases I knew not even that long ago: spirit.
Somewhere, there are people who really understand the meaning of the holiday season. It is not now, nor will it ever be the people who flock to the malls to throw away their hard-earned cash on gifts that, if you can actually afford them, generally go unappreciated anyways. There are many traditions which have since become considered arcane — slavery, public executions, curing colds with leeches — and the traditions of this most arcane of pagan holidays should be curbed without destroying the good intentions behind it.
After all, Christmas really is a holiday for children. We adults are only casual observers who, in our race to prove our own worth, should slow down long enough remember that. There is no joy in the pain we make for other people. Perhaps, in the spirit of real gift giving, we should consider a broader path than the one we take back to ourselves.
So from now on, I’m not planning on going to Cordova or Collierville to drop a bunch of money on Christmas presents — in fact, unless I have to for work, I’m staying out of the Eastern Bloc of Memphis. This year, I’m thinking about who out there is less fortunate than I am. I want to know if I can do something nice for someone in need in exchange for all the gifts I have received this year. I’m open to suggestions if you’d like to drop some on me.
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