‘Tis the Season
By Sean McVeigh
I have to be very careful here. Better men than I have walked this path and better men than I have failed. Oftentimes, they are forced to publicly repent for their “sin” lest they be shunned from their own societies in a coordinated effort amongst their friends and family. Two famous cases that I am sure you are familiar with, especially at this time of year, come to mind.
In the first, there was a free-thinking fellow who dared to have a different opinion than the cultish town that he called home. Exiled for his opinion, he lived on a mountain, plotting revenge. “Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason,” the townspeople claim. Ha! I think we can all guess the reason. In the end, this poor lonely outcast attempts to exact his well-deserved revenge but is foiled by the cult and eventually our hero’s spirit is broken, and he, too, falls under the spell of the town.
In another, more haunting case, a successful man—a local business owner, mind you—just keeping his nose to the grindstone, is mocked relentlessly behind his back because he is not getting into the holiday spirit enough. “Keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine,” does not sound like an unreasonable request to me. And since when does not flaunting your money make you a bad guy? A little frugality never hurt anyone! This time, though, it took the supernatural to change his tune. Three ghosts showed him how people used to bad-mouth him behind his back, how people were presently talking feces behind his back, and, finally, how, even after he was six feet under, people would still be running their mouths about this guy who just wanted to be left alone. Well, they got their way. After some otherworldly coercion, it was said this man “knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.” And to all that I’d say, “Bah! Humbug!”
Call me a revisionist all you want, but this weekend made me think that the Grinch and Ebenezer Scrooge were on to something. Unfortunately, they just didn’t have the courage to see their convictions through to the end. Having to go to work this Monday morning was a blessing. I was finally able to come up for air after a weekend-long, non-stop pummeling.
OK, OK, I joke. Please don’t lump me in with those two notorious lumps of coal. It just feels like this year, my wife and I are running the gauntlet. Last weekend was a whirlwind with parties day and night from Thursday right through Sunday. And, somehow, there is still another weekend to go!
In reality, we are blessed to have so many engagements—a proper word for the battle that is surviving the holiday season. Amid all the chaos, it’s easy to forget that these parties aren’t just obligations—they’re celebrations of friendship, family, and community. While exhausting, it’s a wonderful problem to have. Of course, much of the pain we feel afterward is self-inflicted. After all, it would be rude not to indulge in the festivities.
With a new edition of “The Rockaway Times” arriving, you know that the weekend is here again. Time to don your holiday best, lace up those party shoes, and brace for battle once more. And on Monday morning, when I wake up feeling like I can’t go on, I’ll remember that it’s a small price to pay for all the blessings. And no, these last paragraphs were not written under the coercion of any specter, spirits, or apparitions, and no Christmas cults were consulted in this confession, er, I mean … change of heart.
Merry Christmas!
