Blue Christmas Lights
Despite
all the tinsel and glow, all the shinny faces and families rushing
around in their SUVs and minivans, Christmas can be a difficult time
of the year for some people. An example? Recently a friend of mine
was talking about grocery shopping with her husband and children. She
came across the seasonal display of Little Debbie cakes, and began to
pick up two boxes to mail to her grandfather. Upon putting them in
the cart, she remembered that her grandfather passed away this year,
she quietly, and sadly, placed the boxes back on the shelf.
Before you get me wrong, I'm not hating on Christmas. I love this
time of the year, genuinely, not in a “Up next on the Donnie and
Marie Christmas Special is Andy Ross and he's gonna read that off
some cue cards” way. I suppose why I feel a need to talk about
this, is that I felt a little down last Christmas. It was odd, I
didn't even feel enthusiastic about making my annual Christmas Mix
CD, which has become something people actually look forward to.
Seasonal Holiday Depression? Maybe. I hesitate to say that was it,
but perhaps it was a mild version of it.
My friend's story about the Little Debbie cakes reminded me of this.
Because it doesn't matter how happy things around her might be this
Christmas, there will be moments when she is reminded of her
grandfather. It may be on Christmas Eve, or it may be when she turns
and sees a photo of him, or catches a glimpse of his favorite
ornament on the tree. Whenever it happens, she'll be sad for a
moment, and I feel like it may be that for more people than we
realize. I know I feel a little this way again this year, because my
grandmother is in the nursing home for the first time during
Christmas.
It breaks my heart to see her there. To see her one day and things
are fine, then the next someone is having to feed her. It's hard
sometimes to deal with the juxtaposition of that, and the other
residents in the home, with hopping into your car and hearing “Jingle
Bells” on the radio. You see this, your friend's heartbreak, and
you think of how ridiculous it all is that this season starts with an
event in which we shoot each other just to get a deal on a damn TV.
When we die, no one is going to stand up and talk about how we once
saved a lot of money in 2011. Instead, I would hope they would say
what a good person we were, and how we made a point to make those who
needed to feel less alone, less alone.
If we all took the amount of time and energy we spent to shove
people out of the way for that TV, on actually helping people, we
could make this world a better place. I suppose the point that I'm
trying to make with all of this, is to tell you what I'd really like
for Christmas. Humanity. I want a little more humanity in the world.
I hinted at this a little bit at Thanksgiving, but I feel it's ever
more important at this time of year to mention it again. Small
gestures, nothing too big, just more kindness in the world.
It's my sincere wish for you and your family to have a very Merry
Christmas, and that the coming year will be much better for us all.
However, do me one favor, and remember that there are those who are
hurting, those who—despite not showing any sign of pain on their
face—may be doing all they can to not cry this season. So let's
raise our glasses in hope. Hope for a better year to come, hope for
those who will one day see light at the end of the tunnel, and hope
that we all might—in our own little way—leave this world a better
place than we found it. Merry Christmas to you all.
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