You know, I”ve never read Dickens” original “A Christmas Carol.”
I have nothing against the classics, mind you. Indeed, I”m one of the few to have turned every page of Melville”s “Moby Dick,” Tolstoy”s “War and Peace,” as well as a 10 pound block of a book called “The First Team: Pacific Naval Air Combat from Pearl Harbor to Midway” — which I”ll admit is not in the literary pantheon, but still something of an accomplishment to finish … especially when forced to study it in the very same week as Moby Dick.
Pretty sure my essay on Melville”s work included an errant reference to F4F Wildcat fighter planes.
But Dickens — no. For some reason I suspect the book would not quite measure up to “Scrooge,” the big screen version with Alastair Sim. I”m not even certain it would match Bill Murray”s “Scrooged.”
Sacrilege, I know. Yet while I”m an avid reader, I also grew up during the television age. Like many others of my generation, I tend to measure the approach of Christmas by the appearance of animated characters on the small screen (as well as the appearance of egg nog cartons on grocery shelves). Charlie Brown, the Grinch, Rudolph, Frosty — these mark the waning shopping days until December the 25th.
I am aware, however, of Dicken”s last lines, the ones confirming the redemption of Ebeneezer Scrooge: “and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!”
Now, I”m not sure if I manage to keep Christmas well. I possess the knowledge, certainly. The joy of consumer capitalism, the spirit of giving, the sentimental Budweiser Clydesdales, the family gathering where you tried to summon enough will to thank your grandmother for the cuff links without a hint of disappointment or sarcasm, the lights, the color, the tree — I”m aware of what the holiday means in the modern world.
At some point, though, the idea of receiving gifts becomes tedious. Shopping for a dozen people equally reluctant to answer the “what do you want for Christmas” question becomes a chore easily dropped. Finding a tree to brighten a corner of the living room without blocking the television or inviting the attention of adventurous cats, becomes an afterthought.
And I”m too old to try the mistletoe trick.
With work and the other humbugs of life weighing in, Christmas loses much of its secular charm . It becomes just a day off in an otherwise normal week … well, normal except for that attempt to play the “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” drinking game one more time.
You never realize just how many times Dr. Seuss used the word “who” until there”s alcohol involved … and then you don”t remember.
Yes, the Christian holiday was always a celebration. But Dickens recognized in Scrooge the crushing nature of the Industrial Revolution on the spirit of redemption and joy. In 1843 when he published the novel, grueling six-day work weeks, child labor, debtor”s prisons and the like were common features. Healthcare, sick days and vacation were not. Some say his story saved Christmas from the grinding gears of production. Others say it invented the modern, consumer holiday.
In our era, it is just as easy to feel the vise of responsibility. So what Scrooge learned remains relevant. It takes effort and time — which might be in short supply — and energy to keep Christmas well.
Oh, and a willingness to look away from the bowl games.
Christmas as a religious holiday is about redemption and sacrifice. On the secular level, it may then also be an effort to redeem us from whatever blinds us to the gifts we could be giving or receiving with thankfulness, the good we could be doing for others or for the community, the things we could be sharing.
Ideally we keep this spirit throughout the year, and many in this area do commit themselves to the community in various ways. The commercialization of Christmas we all moan about is just a reminder that, like old Ebeneezer, we must make an effort once in awhile to look up from the desk and consider the welfare of others, including friends, family and out of touch grandmothers.
It”s just better when Bill Murray says all that.
