Calendars play tricks by just doing nothing. The one on my desk in our computer room in the house is the sneakiest one of all. Without a word to anyone it has quietly reached the last weekend of 2014. We have no more Saturdays left in this year. Really wish I'd paid more attention but I didn't. Again.
Christmas 2014 is so past tense, some of us look away as we drive past light displays in our neighborhood at night because, well....let's face it, it's a little embarrassing. We've already gathered up the wrapping paper and ribbon and all the packing and shipping materials and sorted it out for the recycling bins (all of ours was emptied this morning making this the saddest trash run of the year, in my opinion).
A lot of us, inspired by what we understand the season to be about, headed to shops and malls to return what we got and didn't want or to gobble up a 'post-holiday' bargain. Or both. There'll be a raft of situations where your present proved to be a Cuddly Toy and so became part of The Great American Holiday Barter Bonanza.
We can also stop wishing one another 'happy holidays,' which is a relief for many who know me and dread dying suddenly with a lie on their lips. And that's fine since I've always been upset with those who for 50 weeks out of the year cross the street to avoid me, will wish me 'all the best for the holidays', either unheeding or uncaring of the contradiction of the rest of the year.
For those who celebrate something other than Christmas, or who don't celebrate at all, what do they make of this synthetic snow globe world we create (and then so casually, and callously, discard)? Are they impressed or discouraged by how quickly, like a fever breaking, 'normal' returns with all its petty frustrations and intrigues.
Should they, and (most especially) we, spend more time and energy trying to make the 'holiday season' fifty-two weeks long or seeing what can be done to extinguish the last references to its actual origins? Ho, ho, ho. (Lather, rinse and repeat.)