Mixed marriage. Possibly genetic.

Awkward, but must face it. It’s a mixed marriage.

Nurture or nature? Environment or genetics? Pointless debate.

You’re either a Christmas Person, or you’re not.

I know it’s difficult to overcome, but if we try, we can make it can work. (1933/USPD:pub.date/Commons.wikimedia.org

Not talking Griswolds or the Great Christmas Light Fight.

Or the manic bright-eye caroling Martha Stewart crafty ones who fill every nook and corner with holiday decor…and leave it up all year round.

(The ones you know are headed for a crash and burn-out eventually…usually after the divorce. ..Simply too much pressure for the spouse.)

Just about those who enjoy all the jolly holly holidays.

December in schools used to be heavy with the smell of construction paper.

You could almost taste it in the hallways.

Picky kids would go through the paper pile searching for the red sheets that weren’t faded and the few dense inky black sheets that were left over from Halloween’s black cats and witches.

Cotton balls, glitter, and maybe, if lucky, some multi-colored stars that you had to lick and hope they would stick.

Classrooms were adorned with construction paper projects with red and green paper chains looped everywhere. (Chains that were finally stapled when the glue kept letting go.)

Don’t be duh. Heart is especially needed at this time of year.(1963.CBS /USPD:pub.date/ Commons.wikimedia.org

Then the last day of school before the holidays, it all came down, and kids rushed home with their decorations in their arms.

Travel down the neighborhood and it was easy to tell from the proudly displayed childish  decorations on doors and windows which teacher each child had.

There was a lot of competition among teachers for the most creative, the most beautifully, the most failsafe projects.

Easy to see, too, which moms allowed more crafty holiday entertainment.

And provided scraps of lace, rickrack, sequins, and more!

Lucky kids got to whip up Ivory soap into snow to slather on their pictures.

There were moms willing to spend money on spray-on snow in a can to use with stencils on windows.

Such joy. Such clogged vacuum cleaners.

So quaint, the windows crowded with childish art.

And they probably all had matching Christmas sweaters, too.(1955.Lucy.CBS/USPD:pub date/Commons.wikimedia.org

Now everyone feels obligated to have a professional looking seasonal display.

Readily available yard inflatables make it so easy: Toss, plug in, and done.

(FYI: That entire flock of inflatables pictured in last week’s post are all sold. Gone! Flew the coop. Ceiling is as bare as NASA’s Space Shuttle hangars. Amazing.)

Even modest suburban neighborhoods have services that swoop in and install all the lights any elf could possibly imagine. And take them down again.

Realistically, that may save on trips to the ER.

Instant blimp-like yard decor is perfect for those who must keep up appearances, but are really, at heart, is Not-A-Christmas Person.

But that’s OK. Just so much time, so delegating is smart. 

Leaves time for other more important stuff, right?

A Christmas Person may mumble, but resignedly rolls out the strings of lights down the hall each year, carefully tightening each bulb, and making sure there aren’t lights of the same color next to each other before winding all 57 light strings around the tree. And the lights alone take a day.

A Not-A-Christmas Person plugs in the pre-lit tree. Done!

A Christmas Person gathers little notes all year long to remember what each person really really desires. Something they never dreamed you even knew that they wanted! A Christmas Person quietly notes and makes purchases far in advance.

A Not-A-Christmas Person says, “Hey, Starbuck cards. Everyone loves Starbuck cards! Done.”

Now we must pick find the perfect Christmas card for Aunt Minnie.(1950’s.Australia. Oxley Library, Queensland/PD/Commons.wikimedia.com

A Not-A-Christmas Person knows exactly where each store’s gift wrapping station is.

Very professional looking. So elegant. Impressive. “So much better than I could do.”

A Christmas Person carefully selects even which wrapping paper suits each person.

Traditional red velvet bow on dark green for the Williamsburg type.

Santa with thick fuzzy yarn ties for the kids. (Add a small Lego with the bow?)

Cute Christmas dogs or cats designs for the pet lover.

Chic silver for the sophisticated trendy ones.

And on each a special gift tag – with a cryptic hint of what’s inside. (Anticipation is best part of Christmas!)

It’s not their fault, the Not-A-Christmas Persons. Probably genetic.

My Dad was all Frosty the Snowman, Elvis’ “Blue Christmas” and simple country carols – sung really loud.

Always that last hour on Christmas Eve before the stores closed run to find the most ridiculous presents ever. Wind-up pigs playing drums. Closeout candy canes – from Halloween. And an apple and orange in each stocking as a nod to those “exotic fruit” treats given dirt poor farm kids of his generation.

It was all “it’s the thought that counts”. And fun. A month of twinkling eyes, secret plans, and Ho-Ho-Ho’s.

He made a great Santa at the grocery store a couple of times. Did Christmas really well.

No crowded malls or parking problems. Much merrier! (1910.NY Times/USPD:pub.date/Commons.wikimedia.org)

My Mom was all budget, underwear is fine for Christmas, and you get one big gift with a couple of (very) smaller ones.

Each kids had exactly the same amount – to the penny – spent on them.

More formal orchestra performances and Handel’s Messiah. (No clapping for religious music.)

She always handed the gifts to me to wrap.

Insisted the tree, the outdoor lights, the wrapping paper – all of it – be packed up and stored away before Dec. 28th.

Must have had a recessive Christmas Person gene.

An environmental vs genetic thing? One of the great mysteries of mankind.

Birds of a feather flock together.(Nat.Lib.of Norway/Commons.wikimedia.org)

I do the best I can with those afflicted with sluggish holiday spirit.

Those with the deer-in-the-headlight look in the stores.

Those with Sugar Plum phobia.

Those who tremble at the thought of tinsel

The ones who are secretly relieved they don’t have to do the tree or put up lights allowing them to just sit there and take it all in.

Nudge them gently. Hoping to infect them. There’s always next year.

Year 1, Stage One: Here, you hang the door wreath and stockings.

Year 2, Stage Two: It’s only one box of ornaments. Anywhere you hang them is fine. Ok, just the red ones.

Year 3, A plateau. Don’t want to rush progress. How about another box of ornaments? They’re Santas and candy canes.

Hey, your turn to put the star on the top. Perfectly done!  (And they’re hooked…)

A Christmas wish: please let someone else do the tree next year. (Nat.Lib.of Norway/Commons.wikimedia.org)

It’s not just about religion. Much more than that. 

There’s so many winter holidays, traditions, and celebrations. So many light ones.

Grew up in a predominately Jewish community. Can sing the Dreydl Song with the best of them.

Always envied the Swedish neighbor’s flowing white robes and crown of candles.

And the kids next door got an extra day of gifts on Three Kings Day.

Wooden Dutch shoes in place of stockings. Father Christmas on pony or goat? Whatever transportation gets the job done.

Add the seven days of messages with Kwanzaa.

Of course, Our Lady of Guadalupe, Las Posadas, and Tamaladas for making Christmas tamales.

Sure looks like a prehistoric reindeer. (Cierva de La Cueva del Pendo/Codigowiki/Commons.wikimedia.org

Celebrations are something very human. Importance unfathomed.

Found in dark caves with sooty handprints and dancing ponies.

In oak groves. In cathedrals. In hearts.

A lingering primal need? An instinct, hope, or dream?

An ancient human recognition of survival and community.

Contentment with life also flickers in there.

An army of elves on the way? Careful, they don’t look like they take “No” for an answer….(1895.Nat.Lib.of Norway/Commons.wikimedia.org)

Plenty of time to ponder.

Hot chocolate and a cookie or two?

Settle in by the fire? Holiday Inn is on.

Even if lacking the full Christmas Person gene, bet you can’t help wishing all be merry and bright after a warming up a bit.

(Yes the air conditioner is on, why do you ask? You know how it is: one person is always hot and one always cold…)

(Can you please flip that light string over that branch while you’re standing there? And just snug up that one light bulb there.

Oh, it may not be the brightest one on the string, but in concert with the all others it glows and shines brightly.)

Just right, cookie.

Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.

Related posts: 

Christmas pining: A matter of difference. (Step lightly when opposites attract? Fresh Pressed, 2012.)

Crushed by the Christmas Views. (Simply too much for him. Bad Santa!!!!)

Santy Claus wonders. (One final trip) (Christmas slips in. Awful is not always bad. 2013)

More than one way to get that Christmas spirit….and I’m so not above a little assist with that. Eggnog? Mulled wine? Irish coffee? Lone Star? (1890.Larsen /Nat.Lib.Norway /Commons.wikimedia.org)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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