January 8, 2008
1822: “ ‘Twas the night before Christmas…”
1990: “ ‘Twas the month before Christmas…”
2000: “ ‘Twas October before Christmas..”
2007: “ ‘Twas July before Christmas…”
I was reading the famous Christmas story ‘Twas the Night before Christmas by Clement C. Moore to my daughter Tarrah as her second Christmas approached. It was December 24th, officially known as Christmas Eve, and as I read those words he scripted in 1822; a newer 2007 version entered my head.
With each passing year, Christmas seems to come a little earlier. Not that the date is changing, but the prelude has shifted. Gifts are bought in August, the wrapping is done by September, the decorations are bought in October and the Christmas songs come in November, immediately after Halloween. The stores are all bright and decorated, Thanksgiving is just a reminder for Black Friday and Santa Claus is the centerpiece in every mall. This past July when I walked into Big Lots, to my amazement, plastic Santa Claus heads were hanging in my face for Christmas in July. Christmas in July!?!
I was excited that my daughter was going to be 14 months old this year on Christmas so that she could have some fun unwrapping gifts and things, but by the time Thanksgiving came, I was oddly ready for the holidays to be over. I was sick of all the Christmas carols on the radio and sick of sleigh bells ringing in my ears at the store.
What was happening? Wasn’t Christmas special anymore? Didn’t it hold magic or wonder like it used to? Maybe as we grow into adults, the magic is overshadowed by the madness of the season.
I had no energy to run to the tree in the morning, I was not motivated to open presents, and by the time the snow fell it was after Christmas.
When I was little, my eyes used to light up at the sight of presents under the tree, now I know I am the one putting them there for my daughter. I used to have to eat breakfast first before presents, now I am the one making breakfast for my fidgeting little girl. After Christmas dinner at Grandma’s I used to go out and play in the snow, but now my daughter cannot do that because there is no snow on the ground due to global warming.
I used to love Christmas music whenever it would play, but now between November and January, that is all the radio plays. I used to love looking at my Christmas gifts under the tree for Christmas week until my mom put them away, now I am the one putting them away, putting in the batteries, putting together the kitchen set, setting up the playhouse, and programming things to talk.
Maybe when we all grow older and become the adults we always wanted to be when we were kids, Christmas becomes almost dreaded. The true meaning has been obscured and the new meanings have grown tiresome.
Then there are those who wish us to keep Christmas present all year long. Now that would be the icing on the fruit cake.
©COPYRIGHT 2008 ASHLEY VINCENT
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