Large Fierce Mammal

Mrs. LFM and I had traditional Christmas experiences in our mutual upbringings. We both grew up steeped in that peculiar amalgam of Christian observances,  family traditions, seasonal flavours and smells,  feverish preparation, and breathless anticipation that, for us kids, began with the arrival of the first Christmas gift catalogues mere weeks following the annual return to school in September. The first hint of frigidity in the air, white frost replacing dew on the grass, and the appearance of the first snow flakes that spent their brief lives fanning the fires of youthful frenzy before perishing with the first touch of the as yet unfrozen ground; all these had meaning born of a steady indoctrination each child growing up in Canada was, and is, subjected to. I know it’s the same elsewhere, but neither of us had the time to try out growing up in other places for comparison, so I’ll restrict my observations to The Great White North.

Notwithstanding that we were born 25 years apart, as children of less than affluent families, we saw the preparations – all the buying, the organizing, the calendar checking, the baking – from a child’s perspective, so we each believed our parents were having as much fun as we were. That they were involved in doing all these things year after year because they were actually having fun doing it. We didn’t see how much the strain that came with the arrival of autumn and the return to school, and the promise of winter with its own seasonal stresses, was being compounded by the runaway obligations of Christmas time.

Mrs. LFM and I still feel a building excitement that hits us as the leaves begin to change colour and Hallowe’en draws nigh. There is excitement in the first frost, and fresh snow on the ground makes us as frisky as it does our dogs. We find joy, adventure, and spiritual fulfillment in the magick of Winter, but we have officially cashed out of Christmas.

We don’t observe the Christian rituals of the festival because we aren’t Christians. That having been said, while we don’t believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ, that doesn’t mean we don’t recognize and enjoy the pure artistic beauty of traditional Christmas music, and eagerly devour the fruits of seasonal culinary traditions that only make their appearance during the time the festival of Christmas holds sway. Neither of us will ever take offense at being wished a merry Christmas any more than we would to being greeted with, “Good morning”. What we no longer will participate in is the ill conceived cacophony of self-perpetuating bullshit that is Christmas in the minds of those who pay its annual toll in energy and treasure. I’ll give you some examples.

Driving down the road listening to the radio news recently, I heard a segment on the transit workers strike afflicting Toronto’s York Region. When things like this coincide with the Christmas shopping season, it inevitably gets trotted out as evil management heartlessly Scrooging out on the hearty Christmas each and every worker’s child is truly entitled to. I wasn’t disappointed because a sound bite played in which the father of one of striking workers declared that his grandchildren would be experiencing less of a Christmas this year than he would like. We all know what he meant, and it had nothing to do with being healthy, warm, well fed, and loved. In this all too common mindset, the value of a Christmas season is measured in dollars, and so a new generation of Black Friday brawlers is spawned.

For the next one, I’ll give Mrs. LFM the floor:

“I’m a little tired of how common the phrase “ruin Christmas” has become. Someone, or something, or LACK OF something always *ruins* someone’s Christmas. Grow up! Stop perpetuating the expectations of this season with the next generation of kids.”

Let me add to that from the perspective of my 17 years as a police and fire dispatcher, taking the reports and facilitating the arrests of belligerent half wits who can’t stand the sight of each other at any other time, but who annually feel the compulsion to assemble in a volatile mixture of sibling hatred, testosterone, alcohol, recreational pharmaceuticals, hot chip fat, candles, and one or two of their dysfunctional geriatric parents, because somehow, this time the magic of Christmas will make it all different.

In our security business, some services are invoiced annually, with the due date dictated by the month in which the service first started. Naturally, for some of our clients, that date will fall one side or the other of the annual Christmas money drain. In the 30 years since I started the company, invoices falling due in November, December, and January will not be paid on time. Why? Because in November, people are hoarding money for Christmas expenses., in December they are broke, and in January they’re paying off credit card debt. So a bill that comes at the same time every year for a protective service that is statistically extremely important during the Christmas holidays, gets to wait … because it’s Christmas! As far as possible, we fix this by rescheduling the billing date for clients who exhibit this propensity to shift them out of the danger zone, but this is another example of the way in which the artificially imposed financial obligation of Christmas sends its unsettling ripples out into the void.

In our work in dog rehabilitation and rescue, Mrs. LFM and I support our local animal shelter, provide fostering services, and do a not insignificant amount of pro bono work every year. We are acutely aware of the threat to animal health and welfare caused by the sudden infusion of Christmas revelries and trappings into the flow of everyday life, compounded by the still regrettably common practice of giving puppies and kittens as Christmas gifts. Websites and magazines abound at Christmas time with advice in this realm, and every year people are too busy having fun to stop the seemingly inevitable tragedies from happening.

As screaming children viciously attack what’s under the tree in a desperate drive to assuage fears that life as they know it will end if the latest video gaming console isn’t there , a parent says, as they do every year, “It’s a lot to go through for one day, but I do it for the kids,” without a thought given to what’s coming out of their goddamned mouth. A lump of coal in your sock if you aren’t good, obey your parents, and do your chores? Canadian kids saw the bullshit in that way back, and growing up I saw some of the most vile little bastards come back to school in January sporting ill gotten gains that made me drool. What I learned from that is if there was a real risk of getting a lump of coal in your stocking, particularly while you were wearing it up your ass, voters would be offered better choices in elections.

Lastly; and by no means the very last, but the day’s only so long and I have to stop some time; is the matter of Christmas gift giving. Straight off, let me say that neither of us has an issue with the giving of gifts at Christmas time, any more than we do with the giving of gifts any other time. What we do have a problem with is the air of entitlement and obligation that prevails over gifts given at Christmas. People straining under the financial load find themselves shopping with gritted teeth for something to give to a new co-worker they barely know, or because their office drew names out of a hat. You think your shopping’s done and then some bastard hands you a neatly wrapped package you didn’t expect so you mutter an excuse that you forgot his at home and it’s off to the store yet again! You give something to a friend only to find you’ve forced him or her into admission of a reversal of fortunes when they shamefacedly mutter that they can’t afford anything for you. Merry fucking Christmas. Give somebody a token of your esteem any other time of year and they’ll be happy, but not at Christmas time.

We value our circle of family and friends. We give them our time, help, advice, our company, and the wonders of our kitchen throughout the year whenever the mood strikes or the situation warrants. We show appreciation for the things they do for us. We haven’t turned our backs on the wonderfully festive nature of this season, steeped as it is in beautiful traditions both ancient and modern, but the Christmas industry is dead to us.