Ron Singer

Extending the Holiday Season

 

​

It is no secret that the Covid pandemic has disrupted everyone’s time sense. Nor is it a secret that economic fallout from the pandemic, together with long-term cultural change (such as the erosion of faith) has made holiday observances both shorter and longer– more hours shopping, but fewer hours of observance (other than window shopping and online browsing). Thus, Christmas-tree decoration has now shrunk to 1.3 hours p.a., per A.F (American Family), and only one AF in five attends seasonal religious services. However, Christmas sales, at least in some chain drug stores, now begin the day after Thanksgiving.

 

“What is wrong with this picture?” my wife asked rhetorically, when I had finished regaling her with those facts. We proceeded to lament the state of American mass culture, and, especially, the decay of real experience in favor of “virtual.” The counterpoint was how the pandemic had accelerated the pace of decay.

​

“So. What can we do about it?” she asked, again rhetorically. “Nothing, as usual?”

​

“Well, maybe nothing, in reality” I replied. “But, at least, we can posit some hypotheticals.”

​

If it will make you feel better, dear, posit away!

​

“At least, dear,” I tit-for-tatted her, “this will give you a breather from doom-scrolling.”

​

After more back-and-forth, we agreed upon lengthening the Christmas season to three months. In a way, this would be a restoration project, Victorian Yuletide Redux. 

​

“That way,” she said, not only will there be adequate time for in-person shopping. There will also be time for proper observance: elaborate tree decoration and wreath-making, leisurely present-opening, protracted family visits…”

​

“Visitations,” I interrupted.

 

“…time-consuming food preparation, and possibly even increased spiritual observance: more church-going – synagogue-and mosque-going, too, of course.”

 

“Yeah, right!” I scoffed. “In your dreams.”

 

“Well, the whole idea of holiday elongation is a dream, isn’t it?”

 

And so, as happens with so many aspirations these days, she proceeded to dream. For several nights in a row, she fleshed out the concept of a three-month Christmas season. 

 

*

 

One morning, over coffee (another ritual), she reported her dream-findings. “Well,” she began, with a sigh, “now I know.”

​

“So which is it, ‘God bless you, Tiny Tim,’ or ‘Bah, humbug?”

​

“Well, let’s say my dreams have updated those basic tropes. Jeff Bozo –what’s his name?—invited me, and everyone else on Earth, to join him in a new program called “Complimentary Space Travel.”

​

“ ‘Scrooge, updated.’ I get it. I bet there were massive strings attached.”

 

“Hawsers. You had to sign up for the ‘Exclusively Nile’ plan, which means no shopping elsewhere, for life.”

 

“Did you have any happier dreams?”

 

“Are you kidding! That was the happiest one. Oh! Thursday night, I got to sit on King Kong’s lap, in Gimbel’s.”

 

“But Gimbel’s closed in 1987.”

 

“I know. And they never did have dates for kids with Santa.”

 

“Did you enjoy your lap dance with Kong?”

 

“It was a dream –a nightmare. I kept thinking I would disappear into his hairy nether regions.”

 

“That doesn’t sound like Christmas.”

 

We paused to sip our coffee before it got cold.

 

“So, then. Should we abandon our extended-Christmas experiment?” 

 

She sighed. “I’m afraid it was a non-starter.”

 

“Alas,” I agreed. “Things change.’” 
 

Note: The ‘facts’ in this story are fictitious.

 

Lately, Ron Singer has been writing about memory and dreams. But his four latest books are about aging (2), storytelling, and Nigerian history. Their titles are The Promised End; Gravy; Weld Tales, Long, Short & Tall; and The Real Presence.

​

​

​