It’s October. The summer heat has finally lifted, and the first crisp nights have arrived. We have two big, beautiful potted mum plants by the front stoop, and I’m thinking about a nice steaming bowl of soup for dinner. I turn on the TV to catch the news, and I see . . . a Hallmark Christmas movie??!!! Holy crap!!! How on earth . . . ???

Well, sit down and I’ll tell you how it happened. It’s the merchants. First they came up with “Christmas in July” — a clever way of getting rid of last year’s unsold inventory to make room for the newer, brighter, shinier (and more expensive) gifts that the oh-so-clever “early shoppers” will not be able to resist buying even though they thought they’d gotten a jump on their shopping back in July but who can resist these new beauties, right? Whew!

Then August slips by and it’s back-to-school time. But wait . . . what’s that? Alongside all the lovely fall and winter clothes and the school supplies, do I see . . . yes, I do . . . it’s the Christmas decorations. Trees dripping with colored balls and silver garlands, jolly plastic Santas scaring the crap out of you with a booming “Ho-ho-ho” as you walk by, and Mel Torme singing about roasting chestnuts when the temperature outside is still 80-something in the shade. Are they freakin’ kidding?!! It’s September, for pity’s sake!

So you wonder if you’re losing it and maybe you actually slept through October and November. But don’t worry; it’s not you. It’s those damned merchandisers again. They know that if you start shopping early, you’re not going to stop even when you’ve bought something for everyone including all the people at work and that great-uncle you can’t stand but who always shows up for the Christmas Eve potluck. No, they’re going to save their most original, most temptingly beautiful stuff to put on display in December, and you’re going to say “what the hell, it’s Christmas, I’ll just buy everyone a little something extra” because what you’re seeing now is so much better than what you bought back in July and September. Right? Right? Come on . . . you know I’m right!

And before you know it, you’ve got Christmas burn-out, and you’re sick to death of the Chipmunks chirping “Please, Santa, don’t be late,” and the repeats of all those Christmas movies that are indistinguishable from one another, and the house is crammed full of extra gifts and wrapping paper and the decorations you couldn’t resist buying even though you already have boxes of them in the attic. And you wish it were January and it would all just disappear for another . . . what? . . . seven months until next Christmas in July. Or forever.

*. *. *

I don’t know about you, but I want to bring back the days when time passed more slowly, and half the fun of the holidays was the long period of anticipation. When the first smell of crisp autumn air meant the leaves would be changing colors. And Halloween was a big deal, and you spent weeks finding just the right costumes, and decorating the house with pumpkins and potted chrysanthemums and skeletons and fake cobwebs, and having pumpkin-carving contests, and trick-or-treating, and making pumpkin bread and hot apple cider with a cinnamon stick standing up in the mug.

And then thinking Thanksgiving would never come, while you ordered the biggest turkey from that farm out in the country, and planned a menu with everything from sweet potato casserole with marshmallows to your grandmother’s special dressing (or stuffing, depending on the part of the country you came from), and both apple and pumpkin pies, and green beans because nobody else likes Brussels sprouts, and homemade cranberry sauce. And invited everyone you could think of, including anyone who didn’t have any family nearby. And finally the day came, and you stuffed yourself beyond belief and vowed you would never eat again, or at least until the football game started and someone brought out the nachos and beer.

And on that Friday, the stores were finally decorated and you started your Christmas shopping, and everyone was in the holiday mood and rushing from store to store and wishing each other a merry Christmas and meaning it, and you waited for the first snowfall. And the month of December was crammed with all of the hustle and bustle and music and wrapping and cookie baking and parties you’d waited for all year. And standing in line for the kids to sit on Santa’s lap and recite their impossibly long wish-lists. And Christmas Eve when you watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” for the hundredth time and put out the cookies and milk for Santa, and Christmas morning when everyone rushed to see if he had come, and exclaimed over their gifts and the floor was littered with torn paper and ribbon, and the the dog got a new bone and the cat found her favorite box to curl up in. And it wasn’t a drag at all; it was special, and happy, and magical.

Why did we ever let all of that slip away from us, just because someone decided it was better for business? That’s nothing short of criminal, and I, for one, want it back. Maybe I’ll just go out tomorrow and buy some more chrysanthemums and pumpkins and sniff the air for the first sign of fall, and see if I can reclaim the magic.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/12/23