I struggle a bit with Christmas. Not in any serious way. I mean as an unreservedly good idea. That doesn’t include Santa of course. For all my distaste of the supernatural I am a great believer in Santa.
Of course Christmas is a great time to come together with friends, family, other people and giving. It’s the dark side of Christmas I worry about. I know people who admit to struggling with it. When the focus is on one day there are a lot of people who feel the pressure of that day and the lead up to it. The emphasis on that one day that pushes people into mindless, meaningless consumerism, stress and antagonism; the people who are alone, or not with family, or who are with family but find it difficult, the people who really feel the financial pinch, the people who’ve lost people, the divorce rate that soars in January.
Suddenly it's over. There's a party for Hogmanay and then...January and February. This is my second reason. What if Christmas were if not replaced, then diminished, but extended to general winter festivities from December to February. No more months of drear, dreich weather with no vanishing to the sun because you've already blown the budget. No more dread of the end of October when, if you live in the Scottish countryside, most places seem to shut up for five months. Instead, there might be local ice-skating all winter instead of just for a few days. Perhaps new traditions would arise more suited to our time than chopping down trees & sending paper cards, more emphasis on pleasure to see us right through the winter, pleasure centered on each other and not things; on light and stories like Diwali and more emphasis on the unmediated care of each other and neither of these for just one day.
Third is the religious element. I love the old carols but they feel a bit like beautiful bits of flotsam, washed up on the shore of modern life. I love them in the same way that I love hymns and the architecture and peace of churches. My children’s generation don’t seem to learn the old carols at school and the only time I sing them now is with my dad when we’re washing up on Christmas day. Church attendance in the UK stands at 6% of the population yet religious observance as far as I can gather is still mandatory in Scottish schools so I listen to these little prayers at the school church service and to the children being indoctrinated in song, at five, that Jesus loves them. Stories have shaped my life, and I think the Christmas story is a lovely one - as a story, possibly even a real story, but not one I think credulous children should be forced to imbibe with lashings of superstition in the same way that they accept Santa. They will of necessity grow out of Santa. The same is not true of regular doses of religion.
In our house, Santa will come, no contradiction there because belief in Santa is belief justified; there will be presents, a meal. My children insisted on a real tree, which they decorated. They have written and drawn so many cards and pictures that I now understand the relationship between jet engines, Santa and red tinsel in ways you may not. One child snuggled blissfully on my knee at the Bolshoi's Nutcracker at the cinema & the other wriggled as we jigged along to the songs at the panto. They've sung me the Frozen soundtrack so often that I risk knowing it. I already have more than I could possibly want. We've read Carol Ann Duffy's Wenceslas
Then Wenceslas sat the poor man down,
poured Winter's Wine,
and carved him a sumptuous slice
of the Chrismas pie...
as prayers hope You would, and I.
We are lucky.
I look for life and hope in winter, not just in December, especially in our dark, northern countries. For me, that's family and friends, light and music and dance; but any warm, social connection with other human beings. That is why I love ceilidhs and milongas. Anyone can go, of any age, any social condition and most people, especially in the milonga, don't care about your marital status, your history or what you do for a living. They care about music and dance and the rest might come later. In the UK at least you see women dancing with women and sometimes at the milongas, guys dancing with guys too. It's inclusive.
When I am old, don't take me to a day centre, don't leave me alone at Christmas, bring me to a milonga with my friends and foes and if I can let me dance and gossip shockingly and be old and bold in company.
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