That nice feeling of general merriment

There’s a lot of hum-buggery going on out there these days. And deservedly so, what with all the national news about job cuts and the death of newspapers and financial bailouts and declines in home prices, etc. (Though, I must say my natural skepticism is mighty high about this. After all, it was just a few years ago that I was reporting DAILY about massive job losses in manufacturers located across the 18 western counties of North Carolina. While those folks struggled to find work and social services, I felt that, generally, people were worried, but it seemed like it was “those people,” the blue collar workers that folks knew about but didn’t know personally. But now that it’s hit white collar workers — including the media and the financial sector — it’s as if the sky is falling. And maybe it is. I admit I’m really nervous about things, but I know the recession is years-long for a lot of people in my own community. It’s not something that suddenly happened. OK. Now I’ll get off my soapbox.)

Despite all this, I’ve managed to chock my holiday season full of merriment. Pat and I had thought we’d head to New York City over the holiday to visit friends, go window shopping and soak in the lights at Rockefeller Center. I love the tree. There’s a great set of photos from there in the 1950s, including these, and you can watch live video of the tree and ice rink at the center here.

But, well, a quick look at airfares and hotel prices and we decided to stick closer to home. Instead, we headed to Greenville, SC, and went to their very impressive public art museum. (Read: free. Also read: Jasper Johns and Andrew Wyeth, along with the amazing photos of Bruce Davidson.) I surprised my niece on her birthday and my sister and I took her to see the Winston-Salem Symphony and the NC School of the Arts’ performance of the Nutcracker, in all its dancing mice and Mother Ginger glory. I’ve volunteered at the food bank and made cookies for families with relatives in the hospital. I also volunteered at the nature center during its holiday festival, which included me standing with two fuzzy, one-humped camels named June and Glory. We also hosted our first annual neighborhood dinner party, which we held last week, and I’ve made at dozens of cookies and my first pan of fudge. I’ve listened to hours and hours of holiday songs and watched every holiday-ish movie I could find staring Jimmy Stewart. I’ve strung multicolored lights and decorated the tree and ate candy canes.

Whew. I think I’m going to be sad when it’s all over.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this excited about the holiday. When I was a kid, I loved this time of year so much, the candlelight service at church, the Moravian cookies, decorating the cedar Christmas tree with antique ornaments. My mom would bake tons of desserts and make a huge holiday meal. Sometimes our relatives would come over, but other times it would just be us. We’d visit friends and hang out until late at night. I’d sneak eggnog and eat too much ribbon candy while watching ghosts drag Scrooge around to teach him a lesson. I know this all sounds very Norman Rockwell, and I’m romanticising it all a bit. But I also felt like, if only for a little bit, I was a part of something bigger than myself. I don’t mean this in a religious way, though that was part of it, but I felt connected to my community and my family, that we were taking time to celebrate together. The presents didn’t hurt, though I’ve had my share of really, really bad Christmas presents. I’ll write more about those later. 

After my parents died, this time of year was so hard. Really, any holiday was hard, from Thanksgiving to Christmas to New Year’s. Birthdays and anniversaries were completely impossible. I’d inevitably end up in tears. They all just made me remember and that made me miss them and feel regret for so many things.

But this year has been different. I decided it would be so, and that simple act of deciding helped. I’ve spent time with really good friends. I’ve spent time by myself, reflecting on the year. And I’ve come to feel so thankful for things, hopeful, even, that good things are on their way, even if those things aren’t what I expected.