Blue Christmas
Every holiday season, I think of those for whom cheer is not on the menu. This year the thought strikes close to home, because one of my oldest Susanfriends lost her husband in early November.
Gone, far before anyone expected, is their tradition of cutting their own tree. Susan loves craft shows, and though we went to one in Montréal last week, there was no more searching for the perfect treat for him.
I was reminded of a Christmas 19 years ago. Le Duc's best friend, Harvey, had died just a week earlier. For years, Harvey and his family had joined us for Christmas dinner. He and Le Duc cooked elaborate menus while the kids played with new toys. That year, Ingrid and the children came with his parents, a dignified couple who stumbled through the evening, still in shock. "Well", someone said to me, "I guess that ruined your Christmas!"
Not really; it was profoundly sad, but isn't the real purpose of the season about connection and community, about giving—and not in the material sense?
I enjoyed those years of pounding footsteps way too early on Christmas morning, of the wonder in our sons' faces as they looked into Christmas windows, of the vaulting hymns of a Christmas Eve service. I'm still pleased by a box of chocolates on a table, a tray of cookies.
But always, I'm haunted by faces on the street who look bereft amid the bounty, and wonder what the manufactured merriment does to people who are unable to summon joy, for whatever reason. We put a date on the calendar and the message is more or less, be merry or be left out.
Maybe that's why my favourite secular Christmas song is "Blue Christmas", naturally, the Elvis version— so that's "Chrrrisssumus."
The other one that chokes me up, every time, is "I'll Be Home for Christmas" which younger persons often think is about catching a flight to see the folks. Not exactly; it's a WWII song, first recorded by Bing Crosby in 1943, the midst of the war. (The other side of the single was "Danny Boy"; talk about a sobfest.) There are many versions, but the Frank Sinatra one is my favourite.
My favourite religious one is "Ave Maria" (the Catholic prayer version), especially when Rufus Wainwright performs it live. It's not only a Christmas hymn, but you'll hear it often during Advent.
What's yours?
Here, we say "Merry Christmas" and "Joyeux Nöel", to friends and strangers alike. The bland "Happy Holidays" pops up too, but Montréal, a city stuffed with churches, retains more religious tradition.
Perhaps we should have a variant, something like, "Peace, friend".
I've spent a decade in the Passage with you, and sense that whether you observe Hanukkah, Christmas or a non-denominational season, you will make room at your table, in your heart, and through your giving for those who are struggling.
Gone, far before anyone expected, is their tradition of cutting their own tree. Susan loves craft shows, and though we went to one in Montréal last week, there was no more searching for the perfect treat for him.
I was reminded of a Christmas 19 years ago. Le Duc's best friend, Harvey, had died just a week earlier. For years, Harvey and his family had joined us for Christmas dinner. He and Le Duc cooked elaborate menus while the kids played with new toys. That year, Ingrid and the children came with his parents, a dignified couple who stumbled through the evening, still in shock. "Well", someone said to me, "I guess that ruined your Christmas!"
Not really; it was profoundly sad, but isn't the real purpose of the season about connection and community, about giving—and not in the material sense?
I enjoyed those years of pounding footsteps way too early on Christmas morning, of the wonder in our sons' faces as they looked into Christmas windows, of the vaulting hymns of a Christmas Eve service. I'm still pleased by a box of chocolates on a table, a tray of cookies.
But always, I'm haunted by faces on the street who look bereft amid the bounty, and wonder what the manufactured merriment does to people who are unable to summon joy, for whatever reason. We put a date on the calendar and the message is more or less, be merry or be left out.
Maybe that's why my favourite secular Christmas song is "Blue Christmas", naturally, the Elvis version— so that's "Chrrrisssumus."
The other one that chokes me up, every time, is "I'll Be Home for Christmas" which younger persons often think is about catching a flight to see the folks. Not exactly; it's a WWII song, first recorded by Bing Crosby in 1943, the midst of the war. (The other side of the single was "Danny Boy"; talk about a sobfest.) There are many versions, but the Frank Sinatra one is my favourite.
My favourite religious one is "Ave Maria" (the Catholic prayer version), especially when Rufus Wainwright performs it live. It's not only a Christmas hymn, but you'll hear it often during Advent.
What's yours?
Here, we say "Merry Christmas" and "Joyeux Nöel", to friends and strangers alike. The bland "Happy Holidays" pops up too, but Montréal, a city stuffed with churches, retains more religious tradition.
Perhaps we should have a variant, something like, "Peace, friend".
I've spent a decade in the Passage with you, and sense that whether you observe Hanukkah, Christmas or a non-denominational season, you will make room at your table, in your heart, and through your giving for those who are struggling.
The Passage closes from now until January 3, 2019.
Thank you for reading and commenting, and see you soon.
Comments
A peaceful and happy Christmas to you and your family.
Wishing you and Le Duc and all your family the smaller, more constant joys and satisfactions of a home filled with "all the feels" as the kids say. . . Thank you once again for your wonderful blog, and See you in the New Year!
I wish you, those you love and those who love you, peace
"So we are told this is the golden age ... gold is the reason for the wars we wage"
As you know, a friend is going through difficult up-and-down health crises affecting her husband.
It is very low-key for me; some human friends, fish dishes and a duck tourtière, and Livia the black cat of course.
We do also say "Joyeuses fêtes" referring to the period encompassing Christmas and New Year's, which was the major celebration.
Happy Solstice tomorrow - the sun will return.
LauraH: I had a friend who, facing a first Christmas as a single parent, decided she wanted nothing to do with it and took her two children to a Malaysian island where Christmas was not at all prominent. It was their sole gift. She said she really appreciated the break, and the kids had a wonderful adventure.
materfamilias: About the shoulds: an old friend wrote that this year, she is bringing only one contribution to Christmas dinner at her brother's and asked me, "Remember when we did it all... how did we do it?" Now is time to bring the dish of sweet potatoes ;)
lagatta: "Christmas in New York", the Pogues.
Lily: What a deeply tragic event. I am so sorry. Yes, life does not unfurl according to calendars and that is one of the very worst things to happen to parents and a family.
And Lily, that is horrible.
Hugs and Best Holiday Wishes to you and yours, Dear Duchesse! Your blog is the BEST out there. Thank you for all your posts, funny and sad, full of cheekiness and wisdom.
Love from N. California,
Marina
This year I have been persuaded to travel to my brother's for Christmas with his family and then a couple of nights with my best friend who lives in the same city. I am looking forward to it but I will have to "gear up" a bit not to be in my own little apt. - I find being around a lot of people can be a bit overwhelming after living on my own - even though I grew up in the midst of a large family.
I would also like to thank you for all your wonderful, thoughtful posts throughout the year and a very Merry Christmas to you, your family and all your readers.
My favourite album for playing at Christmas time is Jethro Tull's "Songs from the Wood" which is so evocative of our English winter solstice.
Jane