I love the holiday season. I love to daydream about a long ago time when Bing Crosby would be heard on every radio station and every department store would be playing Christmas carols. The holiday season was different back in the early forties. The period that gave us songs like “I’ll Be Home From Christmas” and Mel Tormes’ “The Christmas Song”.
It is interesting what the crucible of national hardship can do. We got a glimpse of it on September 11, 2001. For a few days there, it was OK to pray. For a few days there, America wondered if maybe there was a god. Now, four years later September 11, 2001 might as well be December 7, 1941.
The commentary of the movie “Pleasantville” is that the color of life is in being real. The color of life is in the conflict, in stepping out of bounds and breaking the rules. While that maybe true, I still think there is something to be said for a Normal Rockwell Christmas or the ideal of a Father Knows Best family. And maybe it’s not even the idea but rather to fantasy of the notion.
I love the holiday season, from Thanksgiving through to New Years day. Even if what I love about it is more a memory of yesterday than a reality of today. Because in the end, it is the pomp and circumstance, it is the celebrations that delineate our lives. Every day is special is another way of saying there are no special days.
Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.