X marks the spot

So, I woke up all panicky this morning, because I haven’t done my Christmas shopping yet, and I usually have it all wrapped up by, oh, September 1 or so. But it’s been a lean year, so I’ve been waiting for this very day, December 15, when all the old bills were paid off and the new money started rolling in. So I go onto Amazon, which is where I do all my shopping, because you can find anything for anyone, and I complete my order, and then realize that Amazon cannot guarantee that my items will arrive by Christmas, only estimate. So then I get all panicky again, and start searching the Borders and Best Buy and Barnes and Noble websites, to see how much of this loot I can actually trot on down and pick up in person. And, as it turns out, I can get everything except one wished-for item, and the total bill, plus tax, will still be less than items plus shipping at Amazon. I’m a wonder, I am.

And all this talk of Christmas makes me think of the Cold Room, which I mentioned to LSBB the other day, and she got a creepy feeling because she kind of knew what I was talking about, until I described it in detail, whereupon she realized that she had blocked it from her memory.

The Cold Room, you see, was an odd little room, about 4 by 6, attached to the basement of our childhood home. It was a little room that was, well, cold. It had a wooden door with a latch, and you had to step up to get into it, and it was where Mother Rubble kept her onions and potatoes and empty mason jars. And in the far corner of the cold room was an old timety trunk, with old-timety Christmas decorations that were never used, and they smelled like Christmas (in retrospect, I suppose they smelled like mothballs and mustiness, but to me it was the smell of Christmas). Though LSBB is apparently blocking some secret fear of the cold room, Big Sister and I agree that it was a magical place full of treasures if one knew where to look.

And speaking of Christmas, why in the hell is everyone so up in arms about calling things “Christmas This” and “Christmas That” ? If your town puts up a tree in the public square, and calls it a “Holiday Tree” or a “Community Tree”, it’s STILL a CHRISTMAS TREE, and it’s up because it’s CHRISTMAS TIME, and EVERYONE has the day off whether they celebrate Christmas or not (except Safeway checkers and Church musicians), and putting up a tree (which originated as a pagan winter solstice celebratory tool) to commemorate what is, for all intents and purposes, a secular celebration of capitalism, hardly constitutes an endorsement of religion by the state. Especially when the “community tree” is flanked by a Menorah and a Muhindi, which are NOT re-named “Community Candelabra” and “Holiday Ear of Corn”. And if someone says “Merry Christmas” to you, and you don’t celebrate Christmas, just smile and walk on by, chances are very good that they genuinely wish you well and mean no disrespect. So everybody just settle down. If you really feel that a Christmas display on public property is exclusive, then pressure your town to build a display that includes all religions of the community. Putting a fake name on a Christian display still doesn’t embrace everyone, and pisses off the Christians.

And don’t think you’re off the hook, Christians. You can settle down, too. Boycotting stores because they haven’t put up ENOUGH Christmas decorations, why the very idea! And writing “Xmas” is NOT blasphemous, if you think it is you’re an idiot and you need to do some historical research on the early Christians and their symbols.

So there.