During roughly the past decade, the so-called “War on Christmas” seems to have made great strides in forcing average people to wish everyone “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas” for fear of being considered an inconsiderate religious bigot.
After all, Christianity isn’t the only religion celebrating this time of year. Continue reading
There are moments, usually somewhere between the fourth and fifth glass of eggnog, when I rank the first few scenes of A Charlie Brown Christmas among the finer artistic accomplishments of our age. The animation is rough-hewn, the voice acting hesitant, the writing somewhere between banality and camp. As art, it is the Gothic rejection of the perfect in favor of the sincere: a lesser stonemason may be allowed his gargoyle, and the cathedral is undiminished when the temple of Apollo would be utterly destroyed.
So if anything saves A Charlie Brown Christmas from itself, it is the sincerity of Charlie Brown, whose soft-spoken anxiety matures into desperation to know what, in a world of pink aluminum trees and impromptu freestyle dance, Christmas is all about.
And Linus’ sincere answer, a simple reading from the Gospel of Luke, is deeply troubling. Continue reading
“Memories for sale! Get your reminiscing and musing here! Memories for sale—!”
“Childhood daydreams, first birthdays, and flights of fancy, yours for only three hundred—!”
“Piano lessons, cooking classes, foreign languages, we’ve got ‘em all! Get your practical skills now—!”
“Memories for sale! What’s past is present again! Memories for sale!” Continue reading
Every year my family struggles to keep up Christmas traditions. It’s not that we find our traditions onerous or time-consuming, so much as that we don’t find many traditions at all.
A friend of mine helped illustrate my family’s dearth of traditions when joining us for dinner one year. When I asked what he would like to eat, he suggested, “Make me a traditional family dish.”
This request stumped me for a while, considering that my dad’s favorite description of my mother’s cooking runs, “Enjoy it while you can—you’ll never see it again.” Casting about in my mind, I recalled a variation on a favorite Mexican dish we had cooked up. Continue reading
“You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense.” – Shakespeare
Teachers pretty much hate it when students cram. It’s a half-step superior to total apathy, they allow, but only just. I think, though, that the issue is a little more intricate than it often gets credit for.