Look Forward To This? - Part 2: The Other Half

If you are reading this before reading part one, please back up the truck so what is written here makes more sense. Also, as we get to the last three, please excuse the poetic license I am using with small children that the world is all about them. I know some have charity in their hearts. Those kiddos are the ones that keep my faith in humanity alive. For the rest of them, you are now part of my discussion.

Halloween - By far, this holiday is a favorite. Sitting up, watching scary movies, handing out sugary delights, and dressing up makes this one holiday a one to enjoy. As a kid, we begin to get jittery around the first of October. We have to come up with the best costume idea and then convince our caretakers to either (A) buy us one or (B) make us one. Going back many years, the costumes were fashioned out thin, flimsy material, and the masks were solid pieces of plastic with jagged cutouts for eyes and small slits for your nostrils and mouth. The material was so thin that quite often, you had to wear a jacket over your costume, thus ruining the illusion of who you were supposed to be. Also, those masks were so hot; you would spend half your time with it on top of your head. That is if the elastic string on your mask didn’t snap halfway through your journey.

Then, the big day would arrive, and you and your siblings would race around the neighborhood asking for candy. As a side note, it seems odd as an adult that we only condone candy from strangers one night a week. Hearts pounding, sweat blurring your eyes, you knew you had to make record time before all others before the candy was gone. After what seemed like a marathon, but in reality, maybe two blocks, you returned home. In my house, nothing could be consumed without dumping your hard-earned treasures on the carpet for inspection. After being warned by teachers and news people that there are nefarious villains out there who want to make kids sick, we always agreed.

It did take me a few years to realize this, but my dad eating candy here and there for “safety” purposes makes me understand him better as a man today. After inspection had concluded, then all gathered sweets were placed in a community bowl and stored on the top of the refrigerator, to keep away the ants. Now that I am saying this out loud, ants will discover candy, whether it’s in a bag on my dresser or in a large bowl. My parents are genuinely evil geniuses who did not give their kids enough time to inventory, to keep track of how many Three Musketeers we captured. Therefore, how would we know in this communal process how much the governing powers kept for themselves?

As you get older, it becomes more of a challenge to get candy from your neighbors. Ask yourself, did you give more candy to the cute kid dressed as some comic book hero you never heard of or the pimply youth who wore his hat backward to look like a recording artist? So, in our teens, we had to settle for (A) the lame school dance or (B) a friend whose parents were going to be out all night so we could party over there.

As we get on with life, we begin to be old enough to go to parties without worrying about what would happen if someone’s parents got home early. As a male, I also noticed the changes in what the ladies were wearing to such parties. I will keep further to avoid insensing the reader, but here are some quick observations. First, wearing the same skimpy dress year after year, but wearing a different hat does not count as getting a new costume. Second, it is acceptable to re-gender a superhero, but as a Nerd, I may ask you, would Peter Parker go out like that if he was a woman? Finally, couples’ costumes are cute, but please make him shave his legs next time.

Only when you dig about in history to find out where this holiday came from, do you realize the meaning. Halloween kicks off a three-day remembrance of the dead. All Saint’s Day is about remembering the saints, martyrs, and baptized individuals. From Mexico, we received Día de Muertos that celebrates ancestors over saints, which is more inclusive, and it doesn’t require miracles to honor. 

If you dread this holiday, I get it. Even if you are the Scrooge of Halloween, I understand the frustration of turning off every light in your house and watching television on a mobile device to make it VERY apparent you aren’t home, and the bell still rings. I also understand that some protest this due to their faith. I dread it because it marks the beginning of Christmas, according to Madison Avenue. Let me eat my Snickers for Pete’s sake before you show anything related to Santa!

Thanksgiving - On the list of holidays, this one is not on the top list for me. Bottom line, the historical farce that it sells. Once again, I will not go into the background of this holiday, as I did for Easter, but suffice to say, I am not a huge fan. 

As a kid, it meant seeing family, but I did get to see them every day. Sure, there was turkey and the other trimmings, but it also meant weeks of turkey soup and sammiches. My mom would work overtime preparing, but it wasn’t until recently that I was trusted to carve anything. The only reason for me to even mention this holiday is to recognize her herculean efforts. So, it would be watching football with dad or hanging out in my room until dinner was called. Dad would give the traditional speech about being a family, then chow down. The one thing left on the table was always the canned cranberry, or whatever it was. 

As an adult, well, I guess you can put me down as one of those who go “meh.” It’s not something I despise; I just have a hard time getting pumped up over the whole thing. Some get excited because of Black Friday. With connectivity and overnight shipping, is Black Friday that big of a deal anymore? It also signals the beginning of aggressive advertising through the use of emotional blackmailing ads. Like I said, “meh.”

Christmas - This is the holiday where kids lose their shit. Parents drag out Santa Spies on a Shelf, and apparently, this is the only time the Big Guy pays attention to behaviors. Seriously, when have you EVER heard a parent in the dead of summer reminding kids that “Santa is watching?” 

As a kid, Getting up at 4:30 am began the excursions to the room where the tree was housed. The purpose, to quietly scope out the results of Santa’s busiest night. Of course, we always had an accomplice with us to listen for the stirrings of the parental units. The rule was simple, play with anything that wasn’t wrapped as quietly as possible. It was a simple enough rule to follow with the three of us. It was the addition of son number four that things became difficult. Rob was a great younger brother; he just did not really have a quiet mode. He seemed to have the knack of finding the loudest toy or contraption that had a clanging bell or a clicking track.

The silence which fell over the room every time Rob found the one thing he shouldn’t play with was sometimes deafening. Then there was a slow count to five, a reproachful look, and back to quiet playtime. True, Rob was the youngest, and when he was old enough to understand the dynamics of getting toys during Christmas, the rest of us were delegated to quieter toys and clothes. Then 5:30 would arrive, and Mom and Dad would get up, somewhat groggy, and would set the same rules down that most of us had heard ten to twelve times already.

1. There were no opening of presents, except for what was in the stockings, before orange juice.
2. If grandparents were staying over, no rousing them before 6:00.
3. One child played Santa and distributed one present to each person at least once before a repeat could happen.
4. EVERYONE had to ooh and ahh whenever mom opened something that was cute or wearable.
5. Mushy gifts between Mom and Dad had to be followed with more mush, and we were not allowed to gag, make gagging noises, or make catcalls.
6. Everyone was on cleanup duty.
7. There could be no complaining about the amount of fruit or butterscotch lifesavers that were in our stockings.
8. We all love the socks and underwear we received.
9. All materials had to be in our rooms unless Dad wanted to play with them before dinner.
10. No breaking or hiding of another brother’s presents for at least one week or face the wrath.

As an adult, I anticipate that my neighbors will spend hundreds, or in the case of an exuberant neighbor, thousands of dollars to “deck the halls.” They work like little elves over the weekends preceding Christmas plugging in things and climbing on their roofs. You may be asking why they spend so much leisure time doing this, or even why I now do this, although not in the thousands. I do it because the lights I string up make my heart sing and my soul happy. 

Then, we are inundated with secret Santas, office parties, and crowded shopping centers. We become concerned with finding that right gift so we can sleep soundly without worry. Children become wired on candy canes and adrenaline because they know that they will be able to legally whine in public places and drag their parents around the local toy stores. We are forced to sing the dreaded Twelve Days of Christmas until we are ready to strangle the person responsible for this torturous method of counting.

Local pop artists are busy releasing their Christmas compilations, hoping for that last push of profit before the year ends. Car dealers dress in seasonal outfits, telling us that they will make you a deal because they don’t want to pay taxes. Come to think about it, if I have to, so should they, the bastards. 

Regardless, it is supposed to represent the best of us, treating others with kindness and respect. That is what I love about this holiday; I just wish it would go year-round.