Charles Dickens’ novella, “A Christmas Carol,” is one of my favorite pieces of writing. It embodies the delicious food and drink of the celebration, people’s philanthropy, good cheer and their affection for each other. It’s also the story of the awakening and redemption of the cold-hearted, grasping, penurious Ebenezer Scrooge. (Names enhance writing. Isn’t “Ebenezer Scrooge” absolutely perfect?)
Here is Dickens’ description of shoppers: . . . the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they tumbled up against each other at the door, clashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of like mistakes, in the best humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh . . .
When I delve down through the layers of tissue-wrapped memories in the trunk in my mental attic that’s labeled “Christmas” I feel fortunate to have grown up during a less contentious era. I learned to love everything about Christmas — both the Biblical account — “And it came to pass . . .” and the secular — “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. “
Knightstown memories: Daddy brought home Christmas trees that only Charlie Brown could love. Even so, after decorating them, we all stood on the front walk to admire their lights. The local businessmen provided an afternoon of free movies at the Alhambra after which a skinny Santa Claus dispensed sacks of candy and nuts. Miss McKinney’s art students painted Christmas scenes on the classroom windows, and the chorus went caroling through the halls. One year a priest with a lovely tenor voice sang “Jesu Bambino” during Midnight Mass in New Castle, and I still hear it in my mind’s ear. After my father lost his sight, we were poor. My freshman year in college I received one gift: a red sweater from Mary Leisure’s shop for which I had yearned. Mother put it in layaway.
Christmas present: Bill’s father was English, and Bill’s family celebrated Christmas in the Dickensian fashion. We have continued those customs into our elder years. A “Dickens” Christmas is a lot of work, and our to-do list is long. However, it brings us joy to do it for each other.
Christmas yet to come: On December 15 there will be a reading of “A Christmas Carol” at Irvington’s Benton House, and Gerry Gray and friends will perform carols on the evening of the Luminaria, December 21. My recently discovered cousin, Amber, is coming to bake cookies with Vicki and me. Vicki, Tom and two of the grandboys will spend Christmas with us. Vicki is going to cook the feast, and Tom will be the maitre d’. What fun!
“Getting and spending we lay waste our powers.” Wordsworth
What a contrast between Dickens’ shoppers and some of today’s! Perhaps “Bah Humbug!” is more apt than “Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!” Did you watch the news accounts about Black Friday’s orgy? Clerks had to work Thanksgiving night and then put in long hours on Friday. Some people camped out for days in order to be first in line. There is a reason why there are more horses’ rears than horses: There was a fight over a TV in Michigan City, and in California a woman socked a man in the face over a $5 Barbie.
People have every right to be religious or not as they choose. That’s why our forbears came here. However, anyone can practice the essential spirit of Christmas. Perhaps I am an old woman wallowing around in the warm fuzzies of the past, but I think that our society is becoming spiritually bankrupt. Santa Claus has become the god of Christmas, followed by the Easter Bunny in the spring. wclarke@comcast.net