THE HOLIDAYS WILL SOON BE OVER, decorations gone from the stores, Christmas music no longer blaring from loudspeakers, our silly Christmas sweaters put away and, in general, everybody will be fa-la-la-la-ed out. We seniors will have finished our holiday luncheons, wrapped up our special gatherings, and endured the last of our family dinners. We could not grit our teeth and smile through one more cookie exchange, secret Santa gift drawing, and – could someone please just let Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney get it on, and leave me in peace? If I hear him crooning one more time, I am going to set my hair on fire and run into the street naked.
In short, I don’t think I am alone in being happy to settle down into a post-holiday mode. We seniors get tired of being “up” for groups of people. We get cranky after the 20th person asks how we are, then proceeds to fill us in on all their ailments. People telling us to have a “nice holiday”, urging us to take more of their green bean casserole slop, pawing us, and expecting us to be “merry and bright.” All of this happening in
crowded, overheated rooms, over an extended afternoon or evening that seems to never end.
Please, I don’t want your recipe for meatballs cooked in grape jelly. No, I don’t want you to drive me, I may never get home the way you drink. No, your tofu does not taste just like turkey, and I do not want a doggie bag.
Please don’t ask me to hold the baby…well, okay – I will just set the kid down here under the sofa.
We hate those bright newsy “letters” some people send out with their Christmas cards. Just once, I would like to get one of those telling the unvarnished truth. “Danny was arrested for pandering in front of the Shrine,” “Sue Ellen is recovering from that nasty rash and has responsibly informed all her previous partners,” “I have managed to cut my vodka consumption down to a fifth per day,” “Dad is doing well, and has finally lost that pesky 20 pounds, turns out prison food can do that.”
Yes, I am a Grinch. I have trouble believing that spreading a little magic Christmas dust will turn all the jerks I know into sweet, loveable elves. Don’t get drunk, give me a sloppy hug, while telling me that we can “let bygones be bygones,” and think we are good. No, not so. You are still a jerk. Don’t get me wrong, in general, I like most folks, it’s just that at this time of year people want everything to be all rosy and happy. Well, it ain’t going to happen.
And we seniors cringe when the gift-exchange time arrives. I admit, we are hard to buy for, and even harder to please. We have everything we need and almost all we want. We can’t eat most things, selecting clothes can be dangerous, knick-knacks are just stupid. Some people say, “Give something you made yourself.” Well, a nativity set made out of popsicle sticks will not float my boat, nor a wreath made of toilet paper rolls.
Honestly, the best gift exchange gift I ever got, was from one of my seniors. He gave me two joints wrapped in festive paper. Now, there was a useful, fun gift!
So, as I bid adieu to 2018 holidays, I plan on enjoying the winter lull. The pace has slowed, no events on the horizon, not so many demands on my time.
I am stockpiling old Joan Crawford movies on my DVR. I love the ones where she slaps someone. In fact, I frequently back the film up and watch that part again.
Good books are waiting on my shelves. I will pull out my old knitting projects. This may be the winter I finally finish that sweater I started in 2011. And, being like most people, I will look back with fondness on the past holiday season with fondness. Go figure.
Jeannie Davis, 248 541 5888