Season's Gifts

(photo by Lillian Craze)

By Frank Varano

How we react to snow can be a good indication that our attitudes are changing. As a child growing up in the suburbs of New York, I always greeted the first snowfall of the year with shouts of joy, shortly followed by volleying salvos of snowballs among the kids in the neighborhood. I would gladly trade being repeatedly pelted by the older kids (even my big brother) for a glorious day off from school. Even shoveling was fun--it provided us with raw material for our impermeable, yet all too fleeting snow fortress.

The newness of the first snowfall made everything (even our neighbors' yards) look pristine. The streets were shrouded in silence until the piercing shrieks of children hurling themselves down icy hills in unsteerable contraptions raised even the most indifferent heads from their morning newspapers. Such fun afternoons logically progressed into serene evenings watching marshmellows melt in hot chocolate and gluing eyes to the evening news weather reports, hoping for more forecasts of snow and school closures. There was never anything wrong with these (dare I use the term?) good old days. Each year, I was seeing snow as if I saw it for the first time. And that's what gave it its excitement. But of all the great things about the first snowfall, one was clearly the most signficant: it meant that Christmas is coming. The near future brought promises of more days off, gifts, unmitigated fun.

Grown-ups (usually the type who gave socks for presents) occasionally discouraged us by saying, "Wait until you get into the Real World!" But there was nothing more real than experiencing the happiness we were meant to. Undaunted, I would throw them a puzzled look, followed by a snowball. Yet despite their imposing (and perhaps self-imposed) schedules, even grown-ups were forced to slow down and take a break from the hectic pace. After awhile, they would realize that the world wouldn't end if they couldn't make it to their 9 a.m. appointment. The weather certainly didn't mind.

Now many years later and an official grown-up, my reaction to the first snowfall has changed dramatically. No longer a novelty, it has become a nuisance. I have to wake up earlier to scrape the white debris off my car while ungracefully hopping around to avoid getting my shoes wet. As I drive to work, I mutter threats to an indifferent dashboard vent which refuses to pump out warm air any faster. In the evening, I run inside as if avoiding a swarm of locusts, and brace myself for the forecaster's predicition of how many more inches are expected this evening. The onset of winter has become an onslaught.

One thing still has not changed: Christmas is coming. But the future isn't what it used to be. Even this blessed event has degenerated from the one day that every child could wholeheartedly enjoy, to an annual ritual of socially imposed parties, baragain-hunting among crazed mothers clamoring for the latest movie-action-figure-du-jour, and irreverent plots to find tactful ways of telling friends that I don't want another necktie this year. And yes, the year-end resolutions which I know I'll keep as long as the fruitcake. All the while, TV shows and department store ads remind us that this is the happiest time of the year. No wonder depression sharply rises during the holiday season. It has become a season to be endured rather than enjoyed. What went wrong?

I can't recall a specifici Christmas when it started going from good to worse. Perhaps it was when I began taking on progressively larger responsibility. When I finished college and started work, I began running out of time. This is a common excuse. My day still has 24 hours in it, as it did when I was eight. It's not what I've done with these hours, it's the attitude I have that has made the difference.

I'll admit that my intention at Christmas when I was an 8-year-old boy was not to welcome the Messiah into the world, but to see how many presents I could receive. My attitude, however, was one of joy, excitement and wonder. As refelcted in my grown-up reaction to snow, it is an attitude which changed remarkably for the worse over the years. And I was unaware of it.

Then, I had the tremendous fortune to spend Christmas 1995 in the southern Italian village where my parents were born. There was no tinsel or eggnog in sight, and I loved it. It was perceptibly real experience. One evening, I came across a small church where I found the most poignant expression of the meaning of Christmas humbly displayed:

If you have enemies, reconcile your differences;
Christmas is Peace.

If you have sinned, asked forgiveness;
Christmas is Friendship with God.

If you have friends, seek them;
Christmas is Gathering.

If you have debts, pay them;
Christmas is Justice.

If you have the poor at your side, help them;
Christmas is Giving.

If you have pride, overcome it;
Christmas is Humility.

If you have erred, reflect;
Christmas is Truth.

If you are sad, rejoice;
Christmas is Happiness.

If you have hatred, defeat it;
Christmas is Love.

-- post to be continued tomorrow... --