maybe i'm just a bad person. maybe i blame my feelings on others because i'm simply jealous. it's a possibility, but i do not
believe so. i believe that christmas truly has become a yuppie holiday.
as i sit on my front porch in the pale light of my christmas decorations, i ponder the meaning of christmas. everyone knows the
true and universal meaning, but i mean that special meaning. that meaning that is personal to everyone. i mean the essay that
grade school children must reluctantly write on "what christmas means to me."
to me, christmas has always been a special time of year, a favorite. lights on houses to show spirit and gratitude. decorations
hung on trees with family and love. presents under that tree, the number symbolizing the amount of people who care and whom
you care for. snow falling in lovely sheets outside the window as you sit inside all cozy and warm. breakfast and dinner with
family and friends - that unique breakfast that tastes different from any other of the year, and the dinner that you must begin to
prepare the moment breakfast dishes are done. and the music of the season that gives you chills and fills you with hope and
joy. these things are christmas to me. waking up to santa's surprises, giving and receiving, eating and laughing and loving with
all those who are dear to you. and to me, christmas always means being a child.
and yet, some of us are no longer children, and can no longer pretend even on a day so special. for some of us, santa can no
longer come, and for some of us, christmas is a day with things to do and places to go like any other day. for some of us,
christmastime has just lost it's special. the family stopped caring, the friends stopped coming, the schedule too tight for dinner,
the money too tight for many gifts, time too short and house too messy for elaborate decor or parties. and for those of us, the
music no longer brings hope, but sadness.
when i was younger, i wondered in awe at the mystery and beauty of christmastime. i also wondered how my mother could
possibly cry during such a season. and now, not so much older in years, but lifetimes older at heart, as i put up the tree alone
listening to judy garland sing "have yourself a merry little christmas," i cannot control the tears. for now, christmas is a day like
any other, only my heart cannot accept that. so i search for the spirit that i know must be hidden deep within. i watch the
movies, hear the music, string the lights, and that spirit does not emerge. only memories surface, which serve as a reminder that
this day was once very much more than just a day, and those memories only strike the pain deeper. with memories, there is no
pretending - there is loss.
as i walked through my neighborhood recently, it occurred to me that christmas has become a yuppie holiday. while yuppies
can least appreciate the meaning of it all, they are the only ones who can still grandly celebrate. because yuppies can afford to
purchase christmas. expensive and meaningless presents fill their pristine living rooms under their elegant trees done all in
white. their beautiful homes filled with more yuppie friends who must remove their shoes before stepping on the carpet to enjoy
lavish parties. family who can afford to fly in and, of course, never hold a grudge, for in a yuppie home one must keep up
appearances. these friends and family always greeted with emotionless hugs and appetizers as the table is set for a spectacular
dinner that the housekeeper or nanny slaved over with no thanks, but perhaps a bonus on their paycheck. listening to music as
they eat, for that music means nothing to them because, really, it's only christmas carols. never a tear rolls down a cold yuppie
face, as there is nothing in the world to be sad about. after all, christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, right?
it makes me quite sad to see something so deep and greatly missed by many become something so superficial and only enjoyed
by surface people for surface value. it is this same superficiality that fills me with confusion, for as superficial as a yuppie
christmas is, as i slowly strolled through my yuppie neighborhood, i saw very few christmas lights. the large, pre-lit trees filling
picture windows, of course, all pretty in solid white, as colored lights would look too childish in this time of merry childlike joy.
no, the friends and family, neighbors and passers by must know that the tree in that window belongs to an elegant and rich
family, theirs a proper tree, not some silly expression of creativity or happiness. yes, there were lights on trees, but hardly a
light adorning a rooftop of window. and as i passed by all of those dark and uninviting homes, i felt like pinning a note on each
undecorated door to let each owner know how selfish they are. all that money to spend on decorations, and such large and
lovely homes to decorate, and they cannot even share with the world a chance to remark on how pretty their lights are as they
pass.
i don't know, maybe it's just me, but i've always seen outdoor lights as not only a chance to share beauty, but also show
gratitude. taking the miniscule amount of time and energy to hang a strand and plug it in tells everyone that you are thankful for
the gift of a merry christmas. no matter what hardships i face, i never forget to hang my lights, for merry or not, i thank god for
another christmas to try. and one day, all my troubles will be far away, and i may again have myself a merry little christmas. i
will have my own big and beautiful home, and people will come from afar to see it. for each december, you can count on every
surface being lit, and my beautiful tree inside my picture window will gleam with every color of thankfulness and christmas joy.
for years from now, i will be a child again.
© jessica huby, 2001
