Sunday, December 18, 2011

And So Happy Christmas

I am a Happy Christmas guy. Love the way that sounds. Merry Christmas is weak. When else during the year do you use the word merry?
You don't say Merry Birthday. If someone asks how your vacation went, you don't tell them you had a merry time.
You don't walk into work and announce "I feel merry today." Your colleagues would throw tomatoes at you,wrap you in a straight jacket, and then write obscenities on the straight jacket.
Your kids don't make you feel merry, you don't have a merry cat. No self help guru ever wrote a book called In Search of Merriness.
You get the point. You only use the word once a year and I think it sucks a little of the bang out of Christmas. Of course one could make the argument that the very fact that you only use the word at Christmas gives it more power, makes it stand out, makes it more noticeable. I contend there is no context in which merry becomes powerful. It is a naturally weak word, limp in sound, devoid of passion. If Elton John got into a fist fight, it would not make him look powerful; it would make him look like overcooked spaghetti doing battle with a nice prime rib.
The English say Happy Christmas and I love them for that. I must consider moving there. When you watch Love Actually you will hear it a lot. When John Lennon sings "And so Happy Christmas" it thrills me and fills me, spangles my emotions and makes me smile.
I did a Happy Christmas experiment one year. It didn't go well. I said it to family and friends,anyone within earshot. I got strange looks or total indifference. I was hoping for a revolution. "Yeah, Happy Christmas. I like the sound of that. Gonna start saying it myself." It would spread like wildfire and soon it would be the standard in America. Instead I wound up shunned by my own family, forced to eat Christmas dinner at the kids table. Alone.
I like the phrase, I love the phrase. I like the way it sounds and think it makes perfect sense. I think it enhances the Christmas spirit. Christ, if it is good enough for John Lennon and Hugh Grant, it's good enough for me.
However, I already get sidelong looks from my family. They see me as a refugee from The New Hampshire Home for The Bewildered, and are fully cognizant of the fact that I may end up locked within someday. I can't risk alienating them any further because of the spectre of The Grim Reaper sitting side by side with The Mortgage Vampire outside my picture window once a month. Those two assheads taunt me and remind me that I am not in charge and that time is a-wasting. They point their fingers at me, lean their heads together and laugh. When I go out to confront them, they throw acorns or snowballs at me, and vanish into the ether.
Anyway, I shall keep Happy Christmas in my heart. And I'll sneak a few into the Christmas cards I mail (recipients are defenseless against the written word).
Dig Christmas hugely this year, my friends. Open your arms wide and embrace the beauty and uniqueness of the day.
To all of you I say "Happy Christmas."

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