In A Charlie Brown Christmas, cynicism resulting from the commericalism of the holidays is summed up by Lucy Van Pelt when she says, “Look, Charlie, let’s face it. We all know that Christmas is a big commercial racket. It’s run by a big eastern syndicate, you know.”
Well, I’m not sure about that eastern syndicate, but in Over the River and Through the Woods, James Robinson, Jr. addresses this sentiment—as well as his childhood disappointment in learning the truth about Santa Claus—through his honest yet hopeful essay, “The Day the Magic Died.”
“I guess it’s now that I realize—and expressed in my own twisted little way in this piece—is that Christmas used to be a special time for me. As a child, my senses tingled with excitement when I sensed that Santa was due to make his annual appearance. Even as an adult—at the tender age of 38 or so—my wife and I drove around with our three girls with a New Kid’s On the Block cassette playing the entire season. It was a time of reflection, a time to seize the moment to enjoy the good will, the music, and all of the feelings that go along with the experience.
But when it comes to children, the old mantra that Christmas is for children is simple not the case anymore. Christmas isn’t for kids; Christmas isn’t for adults; Christmas is a percentage increase of the of retail sales. Kids don’t just get a bicycle; they get Best Buy Gift Cards, wireless headphones, iPhones, and a bunch of other meaningless crapola. Christmas is impersonal. Christmas is a fit it in when you get a chance, “I haven’t done my Xmas shopping yet,” “We need to get a gift for your Aunt Pearl,” impersonal mess. Christmas is a lazy online scam, a boon for Amazon, a fiasco.
But my pet peeve has to be the commercials that begin to rear their ugly heads in November and refuse to die until after New Year’s featuring Mercedes Benz’s and Lexus’ wrapped in huge bows—the ultimate gift for the few who can afford it, commercialism run wild. —but I siphon whatever magic I can from the modern-day experience.
If you dread Christmas and breathe a sigh of relief when it’s gone, I can’t blame for your feelings. I can’t chastise you if, for whatever reason, you’ve lost the dream. But if a small spark somehow still burns, despite the madness and lunacy that has overtaken us all, enjoy whatever piece of the magic that remains. After all, people are still a little nicer from mid-November until January. They still smile little more and try a little harder to get together as family units. Take solace in the little things. And have a nice Christmas.” —James Robinson Jr., author of, “The Day the Magic Died”
In the final essay of our anthology, Sherren Elias Pensiero reminisces about rockin’ out with The Beatles on New Year’s Eve…
“I wrote this with the memory of a simpler, happier time… before the earth shook beneath my feet… in my mind.” —Sherren Elias Pensiero, author of “‘Twas A Hard Day’s Night and Another Auld Lang Syne”
Proceeds from the sale of Over the River and Through the Woods benefit the Ligoner Camp and Conference Center, home of the Mindful Writers Retreat. We thank you for your support!
