ALMOST

 

I'm whispering. Christmas is almost here. In my miserable, dire, gloomy situation here in the purgatory of physical therapy, I'm not in a celebratory mood. But let's expunge that for now. I won't trash Christmas as I did in my previous post.

What should I write about?

I don't have very many interesting holiday stories to tell. My parents celebrated Christmas when I was a small child. But......truth to tell......

....my parents were absolute direct opposites, but they agreed on certain things. Both of them disliked parties, social gatherings, and holidays. 

They eventually stopped indulging in Christmas when I was still a fairly young age. I suppose I was very similar to them. I didn't really care. They gave me things when I wanted them. They always remembered my birthday.

So there.

Tonight I'm remembering  Christmases so long ago that they seem to be in another realm.

When I was a young child in New Jersey, old holiday traditions still prevailed. People had real genuine pine trees.

(yes, I'm aware of the negative aspects of destroying trees just for a holiday.....artificial ones are much more convenient....but.....I hate artificiality, that's my preference).

The old tradition back then was to decorate the tree on Christmas Eve (usually during the day)....and take it down after New Year's Day.

Nowadays the tree is put up in early September....and reluctantly taken down after Easter....

Very slight exaggeration. Very.

Do we still treasure hand-written Christmas Cards?

Not when cards are $10+ and postage stamps are...what....$5.....??

I lost track when stamps were 50 cents.

Anyway, Xmas cards were a big deal when I was a child. And my parents strung them up in lovely rows across the walls.

What about Santa? I was an extremely gullible child. If I wasn't told that there's no Mr. Claus, I'd still believe in him.

I remember one snowy day, my Uncle Steve (Aunt Irene's husband) called up and pretended he was Santa Claus. I was about four yrs. old and fell for the ploy. I regurgitated the list of toys I wanted. Good ol' Uncle Steve did a plausible Imitation of the hohoho Claus fellow.

Those were blissfully golden years when I was adorably innocent.

You should see me now.

Jon 🌲⛄️❤️⛄️🌲

as far from innocence as anyone can get

Heck, I still luv my sweet AI creations.

Tidings of good cheer. More blogging ahead.....

ALL ABOUT SANTA

It happened about a week ago at the Westgate Mall in Amarillo, Texas (I've been there a few times).

Children were waiting in line with their parents to see Santa Claus - or a reasonable Claus facsimile. Suddenly the innocuous moment was rudely interrupted by a guy named David Grisham - an evangelical street preacher from Alaska.

Grisham began loudly proclaiming to the children that Santa Claus wasn't real and their parents were lying to them. There is no such thing as flying reindeer, there's no toy workshop with elves at the North Pole.

It was a sober moment for the stunned kids and a rather embarrassing one for their now-angry parents.

Grisham was right, of course - he was spewing the truth. But perhaps his method of conveying the fact was thoughtless and crude.

The curious can find a video of Grisham and his dire Santa message at this link:
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Li3N-eYt4g8&t=3s

If the link doesn't work, just go to YouTube and type in a search for David Grisham.

Okay, I can't hide my real feelings. The guy is an annoying nut case - - but I admire his guts and think the whole incident is hilarious.

I was an extremely innocent and gullible child. I fully believed everything I was told - - and would have probably still believed in Santa when I was forty, had the truth not been revealed to me when I was six.

We had recently moved to California and I got a Schwinn bike for Christmas. My Mom revealed the Santa lie to me and I (miraculously) wasn't phased or shocked in the least. I said to my father "Thanks for the bike, Dad."
End of the Santa myth.

Now, a thousand years later, I have no sentimental feelings towards the Faux Claus Connection. It's ridiculous to lie to children about a fraudulent Santa, no matter how noble the intention. Christmas is a pagan holiday and a insanely commercialized annoyance. Celebrate it in your own way - if you must - but don't force-feed it to the unwilling.

Am I a Scrooge or a Grinch? Hell, yea.

What I like most about the holiday season is the festivity of it all - - the beautiful decorations, the fantastic food, the magical wintery ambiance, the feeling (even though it's completely false) of peace and goodwill.

I'll end this dismal epistle with some photos that I post every year. Most of you have seen them - so just pretend that you haven't. I have other photos, of course, but I don't feel like digging them out of the cobwebs and scanning them.

My first Christmas. Actually, it was technically my second Christmas. I would have been just a year old (I was born on December 13th)

The house where we lived during my first Christmas. My father took this photo on Christmas Eve.

 That winter coat amazes me. Kinda looks like a straight jacket. Notice the matching hat. Clueless about my age. Maybe four? I was a tall kid.

Again, not sure of my age. Possibly just turned four?? I look a bit cranky.

VARYING DEGREES OF HUMBUG

The above photo was taken when I had just turned three years old. I look older, because I was a very tall kid. My father wrote the date on the reverse side of the photo and he was never wrong. Trust me on that.

I was an extremely gullible child, and would have probably continued believing in Santa Claus well into my 40's - - if my parents hadn't dispelled the myth by telling me the truth when I was six. Yet, despite my gullibility, even at the tender age of three I was highly suspicious of this strange dude clad in a red suit at the local department store. Somehow, the booze on his breath and the unnervingly cold hands gave me reason to suspect that he wasn't the genuine article.

That was one helluva coat I was wearing (and I think it was a matching hat)

When I was four years old, one of my uncles - plied with too much Pabst Blue Ribbon and Christmas spirit - called us up and pretended he was Santa Claus. Still pathetically naive, I believed him and provided him with my wish-list of toys. Those were the days.

In later years my parents didn't really celebrate Christmas and I didn't really care. Even though my parents were complete opposites, they were in total agreement about their dislike of holidays, parties, and inane social gatherings.

 My first Christmas.
I had just turned one
(my BDay is Dec. 13)

 This is the house where we lived when I was one.

My father took this photo on Christmas Eve.

As for me - I abhor the mass commercialization of Christmas and the relentless brainwashing media agenda of forcing us to comply with it. It's an alarmingly hypocritical and pagan time of year. It  isn't the correct birth date of Jesus. Shepherds weren't abiding in fields in late December. And I doubt if all the blatant holiday ostentation and merciless materialism would have pleased someone so humble and unobtrusive.

How do you know Jesus really existed, Jon?

Hey, Bucko, don't give me the Leon Trotsky shit. How do you know Charles Darwin's monkey really existed? 

You sound very bitter about the holidays, Jon. Where's your Christmas spirit?

Somewhere in the closet. With my alter ego, Scrooge.

In the closet??

Nothing sexual, of course.

I'm not really as bad as I sound. What I like best about the holiday season is the intense festivity of it all. I love the good food and colored lights, the scent of pine trees, the prevailing atmosphere of peace and joy. There is no real peace and joy, of course, but the temporary facsimile is intriguing.

So, what is my Christmas like? Well, I never send cards or buy gifts. And I don't do mega decorations. I'm not that daft. But I always used to have a garland and colored lights on the fireplace mantle. Now that I don't have a fireplace, I might hang garlands and lights on the cats......
......come to think of it, I might hang the cats with lights and garland.

It was a small attempt at humor.
Why isn't anyone laughing?

I have many bad memories of the holiday season, which is one reason why I'm not too thrilled with it. But that's another story for another time.

Whatever your beliefs or non-beliefs - -
Let the holiday season begin!

I was probably three in this photo (possibly four?).

I look kinda cranky, but then, I'm always cranky in the morning.