There are two schools of thought these days about the holiday season. The first, more traditional school is that Christmas (or any of the other holidays that are celebrated this time of year, for that matter) is something to be celebrated and enjoyed. It is a happy season, according to this logic; Christmas is be a time of giving and cheerfulness and being thankful for all that is ours.
The other school of thought says something completely different. It says that Christmas these days in America is overly commercial, with people packing the malls and baking Yuletide goodies because it is what society expects -- not because it is what is right. It is a season of commerce, according to this logic; Christmas is a time for battling traffic at the mall and spending too much money and buying stuff for people because it is what is supposed to be done.
For some reason, I have heard quite a few more people expressing that second school of thought this year. Honestly, I was starting to follow that school, too. I had always been the kind of person who likes to sing Christmas carols and decorate Christmas trees and go Christmas shopping; I have always loved this time of year and all the good that it represents. But this year, I felt a little different.
Why I felt this way, I am not sure. Maybe I dealt with one too many jerks this year as I worked my part-time job in retail. Maybe I witnessed one too many arguments over parking spaces in the crowded mall lot. It's just possible maybe I am getting older and more cynical in general. Whatever the reason, I was starting relate to all those who dread this time of year. The phrase "bah humbug" was a phrase I could understand.
But then I talked to a dear friend on the phone. Jaunice, a friend of mine since elementary school, called the other day from Argentina. She moved there with her husband, Matt, and their two children about three months ago to take advantage of a business opportunity. Anyway, it was not a long conversation that we had, and the words that changed my thinking came as just part of a passing remark by Jaunice.
She asked me how things were going, and I said they were OK. I remarked I was tired working my two jobs this time of year, because of the Christmas crunch at my part-time job. I then muttered something about how I would be glad when Christmas was over and done, so that the long lines and crowded parking lots at the mall would go away.
Her demeanor all of a sudden turned sad. "You know what, Jimmy?" she asked. "I really miss all the Christmas stuff."
Jaunice explained that while people celebrate Christmas in Argentina, it just isn't the same. People don't buy presents for each other like they do here, she said. She remarked that there are no mall Santas, nor are there festive decorations or those holiday television specials the networks show every year.
"For a few weeks, people are trying to make things look nice," she explained, explaining what she missed about Christmas in the United States. "Up there, everyone seems to care more, and give a little. Even all the shopping is done, at least to some degree, in a spirit of love."
The conversation then went on to some other topic, and Jaunice's words would not truly strike me until a little later. But when they did strike, they struck hard.
I realized: Yeah, there is a lot of commercialization, but all the shopping and selling has its roots in giving. Most people are indeed a little nicer this time of year, and people donate more of their time and goods, and things do look a little nicer because people are making more of an effort. And beyond that, there are still a lot of people who celebrate Christmas because of what it stands for and what it means, whether they believe in Christ or not: love, salvation, and hope.
Jaunice and I prove the old axiom, "You never truly appreciate what you have until it is gone." Well, thanks to Jaunice, I do appreciate what I have now by living where I do this Christmas season.
Well, if you'll excuse me, I had better go now. I have to go and get a Christmas tree.
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan. His column appears here Tuesdays, and he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org.