I started getting worried around Halloween. You see, I knew what was coming. Everyone in North America, unless they’ve been living under a rock, knows what happens after Halloween. The day after Halloween, in fact. Yes, you know what I’m talking about. That’s when the Halloween decorations come down and the Christmas decorations go up.
The day after Halloween is when all the spooky ghosts, pumpkins, black cats and witches mysteriously disappear from front doorsteps and store windows. On the day after Halloween, the black and orange crepe paper streamers and flickering window displays of the fancy shops downtown are replaced by cheery-looking Santas and reindeer, candy canes and snowflakes, twinkling colored lights and nasty fake spray-on snow. And, on the day after Halloween, the “classic oldies” elevator music of the local mall is replaced by the “cheerful Christmas” elevator music.
So, is it any coincidence that, every year on the day after Halloween, I start getting a little more snappish, a little more snarky, a tad bit depressed? Is it really any coincidence that I start sneering at the window displays and the panhandling Santas and the “pre-Christmas sale” flyers? No, it is not a coincidence. Christmas brings out the Grinch in me.
Don’t get me wrong, I love buying presents for people. Actually, just yesterday I remarked to Sam that I wished I had a lot more money than I do, because I’m always spying things in stores I know my friends would love, and if it wasn’t for the $50 price tag I’d get those things for them. I like surprising someone with a gift just because, and I always have fun picking out presents I know people will really like.
BUT.
I don’t like having to buy people gifts. I hate the competitive aspect of the holiday, the “I-have-to-get-her-a-better-present-than-she-got-me-even-though-I-hate-her-and-I-wouldn’t-have-bought-her-anything-in-the-first-place” thing. I hate the way I’m expected to send Christmas cards to near-strangers just because they sent one to me, and to buy presents for every friend and acquaintance simply because they’ll be offended if I don’t.
Yeah, yeah, I can hear you. “But you’re missing the whole point!” You say. “Christmas isn’t about presents and retribution. It’s about giving, and family, and togetherness, and love and joy and, oh yeah, that Jesus guy, too.” I hear you, and I reject your argument. Sorry.
Let’s start with the religious thing. Okay, maybe Christmas used to be a religious holiday, once upon a time. But it sure as hell isn’t now. I mean, how many people actually still go to church on Christmas eve? I know that people still tell their kids the story of the baby in the manger, and they still sing carols about it and all that, but really. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when I say the word “Christmas?” Do you think of the birth of Jesus, or of love and joy and togetherness? I’m betting against it.
And the family thing. I’ll give you that one. Christmas is about family. It’s about frantically buying presents for all your relatives and cleaning your entire house so they won’t think you’re a slob, and then having a great big dinner with said relatives, at which time you try to find stuff to talk to them about even though you have nothing in common, and you pretend to like the presents they gave you, and you try very hard to be friendly and jovial and filled with Christmas spirit when in actuality you feel like strangling your little brother, or telling your grandmother that you haven’t worn pyjamas with feet since you were seven, or smacking your uncle for being so patronizing. Yes, family is a big part of Christmas, all right. A big, annoying part of Christmas. But it’s definitely not what the holiday is about.
So what is Christmas really about? Do you even have to ask? I know you’ve seen the sale flyers. The huge signs. The tv commercials. The Christmas albums. The expensive decorations. The store windows. The magazine ads. Christmas is about BUYING STUFF, people, and don’t you forget it. Not that you could.
You can not escape from the consumerism of Christmas. Well, maybe you could, but you’d have to lock yourself in your house without television, radio, newspapers or magazines and with enough food to last at least a month, because that’s the only way you could possibly avoid the Christmas advertising. It starts just after Halloween, and it continues until Christmas day. “Only 46 shopping days till Christmas!” The ads cry. “Only 45! Only 44!”
It wouldn’t be so bad if you could just ignore this, just turn the channel during tv commercials and throw away the flyers and flip quickly past the magazine ads. But you can’t. No, you have to get out there and buy cards to send to all the people who sent one to you, and presents for all the people who you know are going to buy you presents (or who you suspect might buy you presents), and decorations for your house because everyone else is decorating their house. You have to wait in huge lines full of tired mothers and bored bratty children to max out your credit card on gifts you know people will tire of in a day or two, if they even like them in the first place. And you have to do all this with a smile on your face, because otherwise you’ll be accused of having no Christmas spirit.
Why do we put up with this? Why have we allowed the big companies to take over Christmas, to push their goods on us, to hype the newest, most expensive, most sought-after toy or gadget? Why do we fall for it?
Those were all hypothetical questions, by the way. Because nobody knows how or why Christmas became a corporate holiday. A lot of people don’t even want to believe it. But it’s true, and it’s annoying, and the advertising for it pollutes a good two months out of my year.
At least I only have to put up with it for another month or so now. Because everybody knows that, once the New Year rolls around, Christmas is over and done with. How can you tell this? Simple. Because, on the day after New Year’s, the Christmas decorations come down and the Valentine’s Day ones go up.
