The holiday spirit

And, please, folks, during this magical time of the year, let’s not forget the true meaning and origin of Christmas.

I confess it:  I love it every time December 25th rolls around, and Christmas morning still sees me scrambling down the stairs, bright and (too) early, poking under the tree, pestering my wife to hurry up as she makes us her customary scones.  It’s ridiculous, I’m pushing fifty and there’s no excuse for such silly behavior.

But I was the kinda kid who avidly followed reports from CKOS-TV (Yorkton) on Christmas Eve, an announcer glibly informing gullible dopes like me that our military radar (Canada’s famed Distant Early Warning System) had picked up Santa’s sleigh as it departed the North Pole and his stupendously improbable round-the-world odyssey had begun. And, yes, later on, I’d be in bed, straining for the sound of hooves clattering on the roof. Swear to God. So I guess you can see why so much of my fiction tends toward the fantastic. It comes honestly.

Both my sons are in high school now so there isn’t that buzz around Christmas that there was in the old days.  We even wrapped their presents early, hoping to draw them like inquisitive ferrets but, well, Sam’s been rehearsing and performing in the school play and Liam wrestles four nights a week these days so they’re quite preoccupied with matters other than rattling boxes and guessing their contents.

Not that it would do any good—I’m a devious wrapper, cleverly disguising even the most modest gift so that by the time I’m done the Amazing Kreskin couldn’t tell you what’s in there.

Christmas is a time of kicking back, reading, relaxing, watching movies…which reminds me, I’ve got to dig some of the classics out of the basement storeroom:  “Charlie Brown Christmas”, “Muppet Christmas” and, it goes without saying, “Santa Claus Vs. the Martians”.  Lots of family time, lots of time in front of the fireplace, lots of…turkey.  Turkey, turkey and more turkey.  That is absolutely mandatory.

Editing on my western novel has been especially intense for the past three weeks. I wanted to have a good draft of The Last Hunt by Christmas Eve and it looks like I’ll achieve my goal.  That will make it easier for me to take a few days off, rest and recharge before I do a final polish of the novel in the New Year.  Everything on schedule, nothing to get uptight about.  Easy, boy, easy

Here’s wishing you a cheery, laughter-filled holiday season. Remember to spare a thought or two to those less fortunate, drop a few bucks in the hand of a street person, send a check to the Stephen Lewis Foundation, do what you can with what you have to make this world a little more humane and compassionate.

Oh, and, ah, KEEP READING.

2 comments

  1. Kevin J. Parham

    Cliff –

    Great post. I’m sure your experiences mirror countless others with respect to the Holiday Season. In terms of out-growing the ‘surprise element’ of Christmas that enchants us as children, I often think of the lyrics in the ‘Christmas Song’ that says, in part: “To kids from one to ninety-two, although it’s been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you”.

    I interpret that to mean that even for a 57-year old like myself, it’s okay to retain a child-like attitude (not childish) towards Christmas. After all, it’s the only time of year that people seem to be willing or able put aside their differences.

    Thanks for sharing your thoughts and Happy Holidays to you and yours!

    Best,
    Kevin

  2. Cliff Burns

    Thanks, Kevin, and glad I’m not the only one who’s a “man with a child in his eyes”, to paraphrase another great tune, by the inimitable Kate Bush.

    Best of the season and here’s hoping for a fantastic year ahead in 2012.

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