Bah Humbug
Somewhere deep in the bowels of my increasingly diminished jewelry collection is the holiday pile, that collection of junk that gets pulled out beginning around Halloween. That would include the bug eyed witch and cat pins, the danging pumpkin earrings, and a really cute set of ghoul pins that are too heavy but I can't give them away.
And then there's that spider that is so realistic it scares the crap out of people every October. That's a winner.
At least until someone with severe arachnophobia smacks me on the shoulder with a shovel.
I have on occasion attended conventions which almost always have booths offering fancy rhinestone jewelry - we women are suckers for it- and one year I loaded up on Christmas pins. One was a red, green and crystal version that read Bah Humbug, it made me laugh, and I wear it lined up with the rhinestone Santa with the wiggly legs.
It's not because I feel like Scrooge this time of year. Hardly.
What bothers me is the notion that we set aside a certain time of year to be nicer to each other. More charitable. To give more to the needy. To open our hearts. Empty the cupboards to the local food banks or give away the extra coats to freezing kids. Let people into traffic or pause to open a door for someone with an armload of packages.
What- it doesn't occur to us to do this all year long? We have to set aside just four weeks of holidays and that's the only time we're really required to be aware of our collective humanity and responsibility to each other, when 24/7 Christmas music is blasting away?
Bah Humbug.
Frankly I am a little tired of the pap I hear around Thanksgiving to think about those in need. Who are less fortunate than we are. To be generous. Why? Because generosity is a state of mind. It's not a season. It's a way of being. A recognition of how fortunate we are to be alive and able to enjoy what we have and how we live and that there will always be those who cannot and will never have what we do. And that generosity makes us larger, and allows us to feel graced.
The four weeks preceding Christmas, while far more an exercise in consumer excess and gastronomic consumption than much else any more, are also a bombardment in being more mindful of others "during this special season."
Why not the rest of the year?
Bah Humbug.
My girlfriend Lori made a series of needlepoint pillows for me over the years for Christmas. One of them reads "Believe," and it hangs from a big rocking horse named Nelson. He actually comes from Nelson, B.C., and dominates my living room. His purpose is in part to remind me of playfulness, childlike joy. The pillow is a constant reminder of the spirit of generosity as expressed by the Third Century Bishop Nicholas who became St. Nick of Santa fame.
This article is a shoutout to all those who are generous ALL year long. Who work and give unstintingly of their time and heart and souls to those who are in need. From the volunteers to the charities to the soup kitchen workers who are there in January and June and August, who collect dollars and give dollars and lend a hand and give a hand every day of the year, they don't need to be reminded come holiday season. They are already imbued with the spirit. They wake up with it in their DNA every day.
Most people do not travel the world as I do, but as someone who sees how much we do have, and how little most people live with, I am regularly reminded that gratitude and a generous spirit don't have a season. As Mr. Scrooge so famously learned, they are a way of being all the year long.
Lori also gave me a pillow that reads "Mistletoe."
I've had that one up in my house all year, too.
Hasn't done me a damn bit of good.
Bah Humbug.