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Christmas Without Tinsel

By my count, Americans celebrate thirteen official holidays a year, but most of them amount to little more than a day off from work. No one I know gives any thought to George Washington and Abraham Lincoln on President's Day. Revisionist history regards Christopher Columbus as an imperialist who stole America from the natives, but even before the great explorer's reputation came under attack, who spent the day in his honor reflecting on the events of 1492? The 4th of July is for setting off fireworks, Labor Day is a time to wonder if Jerry Lewis was ever funny, and so on.

But the big daddy of holidays retains its power. Crass commercialism has distorted its true meaning, but Christmas maintains its hold on our imaginations and emotions. Christmas is more than a day, it's a season, and much of its power can be attributed to its position on the last page of the calendar. As another year prepares to disappear into the mists of memory, we turn to the past, lured there by the season's emphasis on tradition. We look back at our own childhood and start feeling sentimental as we remember those more innocent days under the protective wing of our families when all we needed to be happy was a new bicycle, a Barbie doll, or a blanket of snow to skate across. How we respond to these memories often depends on how happy we are now.

Turn on the radio and you'll hear singer Andy Williams describe Christmas as "The most wonderful time of the year." Why wouldn't he? His yuletide recording will get more airplay in one week than his entire catalog receives all year long. But for single people, gay and straight alike, Christmas can be brutal. In TV commercials and holiday images of all sorts, lovers stroll hand-in-hand through snow-filled streets, greeting and being greeted by friends and family, and there you are, alone. If you're not as happy as everyone else seems to be, you feel that life's passing you by, and wonder if you'll ever experience the joy associated with the season.

And Christmas assaults all of our senses. If the beautiful decorations and lighting don't tug at your heart strings, there's the scent of the pine trees and the freshly baked cookies. You can feel the ribbons and wrappings, and hear the ho-ho-ho's of the sidewalk Santas. Then there are the sounds of Christmas. The lyrics to most Christmas carols celebrate love and peace, but the music is among the most somber ever composed. If the mournful melody of "We Three Kings" doesn't bring on a wave of melancholy, "I'll Be Home for Christmas" can make carving the turkey dangerous. You may use the knife on your wrists instead.

Those of us with families may not have to spend the holidays alone but may prefer it to dealing with relatives who are bound to ask why a handsome lad or a pretty girl like you remains single. Some of them may even offer to fix you up, but they'll surely suggest someone of the opposite sex. If you're out to your family and in a relationship, the family member who controls the invitations may have neglected to extend one to your partner. After all, how do you expect them to explain to grandma that you're one of those - whatchamacallit? - queers? So you spend Christmas with your family but not your lover, or with your lover but not your family, and suffer pangs of guilt either way.

Maybe it's better to be alone at Christmas, after all, even if it means a profound despair from imagining everyone else enjoying a Christmas worth immortalizing on a Hallmark card. After watching another rerun of It's A Wonderful Life and dining on a turkey dinner from the grocery store's frozen food section, you can pore yourself an egg nog and "Bah! Humbug" along with Scrooge. You can even take some comfort in the words of Benjamin Franklin: "At Christmas, play and make good cheer for Christmas comes but once a year."

Ponder the last part of his statement and rejoice: "Christmas comes but once a year."

How many of us are glad to hear it?


by Brian W. Fairbanks

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