It’s that time of year again.
That’s right: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; King Kong; Harry Potter; Munich; um…Cheaper by the Dozen 2…winter blockbuster season is here!
Actually, that’s just a happy by-product of the real reason I tend to become insufferable in December.
It’s not Ray Charles singing “Little Drummer Boy” at Starbucks. It’s not the reindeer scene in the lobby of my building, or the sprigs of plastic holly that seem to grow like fungus on every pristine surface. It’s not even the scraggly Santas with polyester beards and coffee-stained mittens who try to hijack Simone’s attention when we’re on a mission in the mall. Well, it’s not any of those things by themselves.
This is truly the only time of year when I whine, so deal with it.
It’s also the only time of year when I feel so freaking marginalized. Try being the only Jewish kid in a suburban elementary school, forced to paste googly eyes and glitter on Santa Claus cutouts. Or try being the sole teacher in a suburban/rural elementary school who doesn’t think the Christmas tree in the main office is appropriate, and says something. Live with the school secretary giving you the fish eye every day until “winter” break, grumbling under her breath every time you walk by her desk.
This year feels harder than ever.
We have the zealots upset because the president and Wal-Mart are sensitive to the fact that some people don’t actually share their beliefs. Wait. I just wrote nice things about the president AND Wal-Mart.
Last spring, our mayor made noises about changing the enormous lighted letters on top of the Denver City and County Building from “Merry Christmas” to “Happy Holidays” and he got such a rash of shit that he relented. So now, when I go to work in the morning, and when I drive home, I’m greeted by 20-foot lights that remind me of my minority status one month out of the year.
And, finally, there’s Simone. She is Jewish. She identifies herself as Jewish. Her mom converted before we were married, not so much because of me, but because Judaism had always resonated with her. Now Simone’s mom is married to a guy who’s not Jewish, and I wonder how long it’ll take before Simone has a Christmas tree in her yellow house.
This part of the year is tough for another, related, reason. Because Simone’s mom’s parents aren’t Jewish, Simone helps them celebrate Christmas in the Midwest. So she’ll be gone for eight or nine days. Being away from her is always hard. And this year, she’ll be gone for the first few days of Hanukkah.
On the other hand, today was amazing. I spent most of the morning cooking my “famous” potato latkes with Simone’s kindergarten class. My mom used to do the same for me when I was a kid. I helped them grate potatoes, we added the flour and broke the eggs and stirred it up together. Then I cooked them in an electric skillet, and we ate them with sour cream and applesauce. Simone was SO proud. And, as the resident expert on all things Hanukkah, she held court all morning.
But, before the kids arrived the teacher told me they had written letters to Santa the day before (which made me want to slap her), and when she told Simone she could write to someone else (nice way to alienate a kid there, teach), Simone said she wanted to write to Santa, too, because Santa comes to her Nana’s house. I haven’t disabused Simone about Santa, because I don’t want to be the big villain back in that Midwestern city when she blows her great uncle’s cover in front of the other grandkids. But, damn, it’s hard.
Simone knows my issues with Christmas, somehow. And she’s really sensitive to them. It’s touching and kind of heartbreaking at the same time. The other night, she said over dinner, “Daddy, I want to tell you about something, but I don’t want you to feel bad.”
I thought, “She wants her mom’s husband to be her real dad. She wants to live solely with her mother. She thinks my new haircut is silly.”
But what she said was that the school counselor, whom she sees once per week as part of a divorce group, gave her a couple of reindeer bookmarks. When I asked why that would make me feel bad, she replied that it was because I don’t like Christmas stuff.
I smiled, and said that it’s okay to enjoy the special parts of the season. Simone has caught me grimacing at Xmas carols. She sees me rolling my eyes when commercials for Xmas specials find their way to Nickelodeon. She knows it’s hard for me, but somehow, because she’s a magical creature, she has found a way for it to be easy for her.
I actually think Simone is going to have a better time of it all than I did, because her stress about the holidays comes only from my Grinch-ness. She doesn’t feel like she lives alongside with, but separate from, the rest of the world this time of year. She embraces it all without losing her sense of identity and heritage.
I think I could learn something from her.
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