Christmas

God I used to hate Christmas. I mean really despised it. I worked in the mall for my first real job and the incessant mannheim steamroller bullshit really bored itself into my head after the four hundredth repeat of the inexplicably short 12 track album that they played over the speaker system. And the people were horrible. Truly awful. Like a never ending sea of Sunday church ladies at an olive garden, entitled, angry and unlike the piano man who was so quick with a joke or a light of your smoke they really leaned into expeditiously requesting a manager. 

It wasn't just that though, I grew up dreading holidays. For reasons that will stay between me and my now wealthy therapist, family stuff was tough. 

It's unfortunate, really, that so much of my life was spent bahumbugging and generally relating to the bad guys from any Christmas film every December. ( And let's be real, it starts in October and just increases in volume and intensity from there)

But then I had a daughter. A beautiful, terrifyingly fragile little human and I watched as she grew and I encouraged all the magical parts of life so as to distract her through that all too familiar parental desperation, from the world and it's many horrors. I told her about Easter bunnies and fairies that hide in the back yard, we whispered secrets of unicorns and dragons and beautiful princesses and magic carpets and yes, also, Santa clause. The jolly man in the red suit rewarding good deeds with capitalistic consumerism. 

I'm kidding. 

Kind of.

Thing is, that's the part that broke me as a bitter young lad with a chip on his shoulder and an aggressive resentment towards anything festive. I hated the encouragement of debt to the impoverished masses for an exchange of shit we didn't really need. I was poor for a HUGE chunk of my youth. Hell, I'm poor now. But it's stressful, trying to meet expectations with a wallet flatter than Hank Hill's ass during a holiday that everyone seems to only appreciate Kim Kardashian's.

Cliche though it may be, the grinch inside me was shown the true meaning of Christmas (beyond co-opting pagan holidays to further the political grasp of the early church). I was able to enjoy the wonder of it all through the beautiful open eyes of my tiny child. Have you ever seen a kid look at Christmas lights? Or that first seasonal sip of hot chocolate? They light up with all the joyous beauty of novelty we lose touch with as we stop looking at Christmas trees and start cursing at traffic. 

She grabs blankets and more stuffed animals than is truly appropriate to crowd the couch and watch harry potter. She points out her favorite lights on a path of houses sparkling with electric bills that grew three sizes this month. She threatens to write Santa a letter for toys she wants that she thinks I won’t get her. And she knows that he has enough elves to make it happen. 

It's remarkable and honestly, one of the coolest parts of my adult life, which I'm happy to say has been full of some really cool things lately. 

So I dig Christmas now. Alot. I look forward to it, and I get the fancy chocolate bars for my hipster hot cocoa that my uncle taught me to make, and I make a big deal out of playing Ariana Grande's Santa tell me (which I maintain is an auditory masterpiece) and we drive up and down decorated streets and bury our proverbial faces in the Christmas spirit. I'm thankful for that. Thankful to continue to chip away at the angry parts of my life while trying my best to raise a kid that will grow up to be better and happier than me.

So if you relate to the more angry parts of Christmas, I hope you take a break, and go look at lights. Take a niece or nephew if you're without child. They make it better. So much better. And make some hot cocoa. Not that swiss miss bullshit either. I'll leave my recipe below. Merry Christmas, thanks for reading. I probably love you. 

Hot Chocolate recipe: 1 bar of your favorite dark chocolate (I dig Love bars) half bar of milk chocolate (godiva or lindt is good, also toblerone is amazing if you don't mind the nuts) Promised land whole milk and a splash of half and half Whole cinnamon stick Melt the chocolate into the milk, add a splash of half and half and toss in a cinnamon stick Make home made whipping cream because you care (just blend whipping cream and two tablepoons of sugar till it's whipped up firm. Add vanilla if you want. Add rum. Get crazy) Top the whipped cream with cinnamon and share with the person you love most (besides me)

Derek PorterfieldComment