don's report archive

by Donald B. Ardell, Ph. D.

Wellness in the Headlines
(Don's Report to the World)

I had planned to entitle this essay, "Christmas 1944 and Christmas 2007 - What A Difference In My Attitude A Mere Half A Century Can Make." However, I sent it to one of my best friends and favorite editors for review, and she responded with a very different take on the holiday. I'm holding on to my view, but I think Wendy Shore's take on the season might be more uplifting than mine and more conducive to the "joy to the world" spirit. So, I decided, with the good Dr. Shore's permission of course, to conclude my essay with hers. Enjoy at least one of these takes on Christmas, preferably mine but Wendy's, if you must. 

Don's Take on Christmas, Circa 1944

I recall quite vividly the thrill of Christmas Eve, 1944 when I saw God. 

Well, not THAT god. The god I saw was the god of small children, the divinity known as Santa Claus. Never mind that no adults then and probably few now knowingly paint Old Saint Nick as a god -- kids figure that out for themselves, even if they don't use the term. Santa was and I suspect remains, for the tot set, a deity.

Anyway, my big thrill came when I glimpsed His Eminence, old Claus himself, from the top of our staircase as he stood by our magnificent Christmas tree. I was wide-eyed and slack-jawed with wonder that wondrous Christmas Eve, transfixed at the sight of the Great One resplendent in red with white beard, round spectacles and funny hat. It was HIM, in MY house. 

Boy, I wished at the time that my best friend Henry, who lived just across the street, could have been there to see this. I wanted to call to my parents, but the rule was NEVER let Santa see you. I can't recall what would happen if he did. I assumed Santa would disappear with my presents if I were discovered, so I remained very quiet. (Question: If Santa had caught me looking, would that have made me a Peeking Don?)

In any event, Santa was in my house, with my new stuff. Think of it. This was HIM - the most amazing incarnation of wonderment a six-year old could imagine, the very one about whom I had heard so much, at least during the Christmas season. While Santa was rather busy (His mission: Fly around the entire world in a sleigh powered by reindeer, creatures not known for their flying abilities and, in a single evening, dispense age-appropriate presents to everyone who was good), he was, at that special moment, placing neat stuff around our tree. It's a wonder I didn't pass out, as the bliss was beyond the beyond. I don't think any moment since has been as overwhelmingly mind-boggling as that long ago still treasured occasion. Was it an apparition, a dream or a reality? Whatever it was, though it lasted only a minute or so, the precious images and feelings remain intact, luminously stored in my ancient neurons, tottering synapses and neural circuits. There IS something (much in fact) to be said for good theater.

Of course, my parents and society, for the most part, might have preferred that I were more attentive to the religious service the next day and the more reverent, somber and transcendental occasion Christmas was supposed to be about, at least according to the parish priests. That, of course, was to celebrate, for the 2000th or so time, the birth of a god or godlet, whatever the newborn of a God might properly be termed. This occasion, unlike Santa's visit the night before, was supposedly an even bigger occasion, but somehow it was kind of hard to get really worked up about it. Not getting excited might even have been a sin of sorts, I can't remember, for sure.

One reason I'm an infidel today, half a century and a bit more, after that thrill of thrills of seeing Santa, is that I could never get my mind around the trinity thing. Just the same, as I got a little older, I did come to recognize that the season was supposed to be less about Santa Claus, shopping, Christmas trees, special music and lights. The fuss was really about the arrival, approximately two thousand years ago, give or take a few hundred years assuming anything remotely like it ever occurred, of a third god, named Jesus. As mentioned, I still don't get this trinity notion. (What, there were two gods in one - God and a Holy Spirit, whom we called "the Holy Ghost" in those days), who one day decided to add a third god? I dunno. Anyway, this mythological baby Jesus is what the devout insist Christmas is supposed to be about.

Don's Take on Christmas, Now

Personally, I don't have much use for Christmas. A year or so after my big thrill in 1944, I stopped believing in Santa Claus and soon after that, The Tooth Fairy was history, as were werewolves, fairies, devils and gods. I'm skeptical about all of the Christmas folderol -- I don't buy gifts, I don't bring a dead tree into the house, I don't hang lights or send cards - and I definitely don't sing or even listen to Christmas music. (I avoid stores that play it). It probably won't surprise you if I add, just to be sure you know, that I don't go to midnight or other Christmas Eve religious services. I want none of it, and that's what I get - none of it.

But, I have to tell you, if I could suspend rationality, reason, dignity, sanity and most of my panache in order to believe in Santa just long enough to have another peek at a tricked out character actor at the foot of another staircase placing gaily wrapped Christmas presents, I'd go for it.

Merry Xmas. 

Wendy's Take on Christmas

Donny, the truth is, very few people who celebrate Christmas give a flip about Jesus. The reason that churches are so busy proclaiming "Jesus is the reason for the season" is because he isn't. So getting worked up about what a few priests and fundamentalists say about this holiday just isn't worth the effort.

The reason most people do it is because it is fun. It is fun to give people presents, and fun to get them. It is fun to eat special food, and fun to make it. It is fun to decorate the house, and people like having a party. In general, Christmas gives one an excuse to "shovel out" the detritus that collects with normal living, and make the house look pretty. It is fun because it is a holiday that can be celebrated any way one wishes. Some people do trees and carols, some people go to the beach, some people get Chinese takeout and go to a movie. But knowing that everyone else is also doing something a little out of the ordinary on this special day also makes it fun. The fact that there is a section of America that can make anything tacky who really goes all out on Christmas is not a reason to proclaim the whole thing tacky. Besides, for them, that is fun. 

You are usually happy to find an excuse for merriment, Donny. Why be so disagreeable about this one?

Don's Final Words

Why indeed. Be well and look on the bright side of life.

(Note: This essay will be filed in the archives in the MEANING DOMAIN under the skill area of applied wellness. Additional articles related to this theme may be found there.)

(Ed. Note: Views expressed in this and other columns are those of the author and not necessarily those of the SeekWellness Editorial Board.)

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