“The Most Wonderful Time of the Year”; aka Christmas, seems now to officially begin on the stroke of midnight on November first. It’s more of a season these days, and one scarcely registers the end of everything pumpkin before the blast of festive displays bombard you with the cheerful news upon arriving in the local grocery store or humble pharmacy. Autumn may well be in full swing, but that does not stop even the smallest towns from selecting a worthy tree to festoon with lights in the square. Coffee shops drape the windows with tinsel long before anyone needs a winter jacket and concoct recipes full of peppermint and spice. Radio stations begin to play songs about snow and Santa. Religion doesn’t figure into the spirit; we’re all celebrating the season, like it or not.
When I was young, I certainly did like it, and it never occurred to me that anyone wouldn’t share that viewpoint. It could be Christmas year round, for all I cared. Bring on the eggnog and deck the halls! I had a joyous time and didn’t realize how lucky I was to have a loving family and a pile of presents under the tree. Who wouldn’t love Christmas with an experience like that? I sang the songs and made merry without a care in the world. As I grew up, I heard whispers that some people were unhappy at Christmas or didn’t much care for it. This idea was ludicrous; alien, even. The very thought was so foreign that I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. I discarded it and went on, as if it didn’t matter.
Yet it did. That idea, once raised, was a ripple in the pond of my consciousness. Slowly over the years as I grew, I began to see signs of it. Of course, as an adult, one can easily live the inverse of the happy childhood Christmas, even if you are otherwise perfectly content. It is a stressful time of year for any number of reasons. And now it seems to be trying to subsume Halloween in its steady creep forward in the calendar every year.
For a subset of people, Christmas (or indeed, any holiday) is difficult because of the expectations society places on us at this time. Songs and movies and all our conditioning tells us that we can only be truly happy if we are surrounded by our loved ones, particularly at this most important time of year. The messages we send to each other reinforce this idea. It’s a valid idea, but many people don’t have family or are not able to be with them. It is a time of year—now, a season that stretches for an agonizing quarter of the year—when loneliness bites the hardest. Even if people do, indeed, have family, thoughts may turn to loved ones lost and grief is especially keen. Christmas, a joy to the young, can be a torture to those who are older or alone.
I speak to a man every week; let’s call him Peter. Peter is a rather gruff soul and not given to sharing much about himself. He is a recent widower, and I call to check on him and see how he is doing. He has told me that I am the only person who ever calls, since his family is all long dead, and his wife was the last person in his life. There are more people like Peter out there than you might imagine. He seems at peace with his solitude, but I did wonder how he would handle the upcoming holidays. “I’ll be fine,” he assured me. “A potluck at the VFW on Christmas Eve. That’s my plan.”
This is exactly how he spent his holidays, and he didn’t celebrate New Year’s. “I’m too old for any of that stuff,” he assured me. But I do think he was rather pleased to hear the phone ring when I called him during the holidays. He told me about his cat and a book he’d been reading. It is a long day in the winter when you are snowed in at home by yourself with no one but a cat for company. Peter is far too practical to say he looks forward to a call, but he picks up on the first ring every week. He is waiting by the phone. Even he needs to talk.
What is the point in all this? Well, Dickens said it best, (I like to think he was talking about Christmas): it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It all depends on who you are, where you are in your life, and the year it happens to be. For those of you who enjoy your season, I wish you well, and may it always continue thus. But please know that there are a great many who seem as if they are, but cannot share that sentiment. Disconnectedness, loneliness and grief is miserable at any time of year, but most certainly a worse burden during a season that should be joyful. A remedy to this is friendship and conversation. Please be that comfort for others; this is a way to give, too. Be a light at the darkest time of the year and share your joy of the season with those who need it most. Even one phone call is meaningful.
Some people wait all week for it.
