Silent Night? No Thanks

The holiday season is upon us. Isn’t it?

I remember spending this time of the year with family and friends. Big gatherings at homes, restaurants, and bars. Oh, how I long for the good ‘ole days of the fourth quarter of 2019.

We have hosted Thanksgiving for years. I would guess we have averaged about twenty family members every time. We start early with appetizers and end late with drinks and silliness in my basement bar. In between was a perfectly crowded house with enough food for an army, and just in case the soldiers were thirsty, plenty of wine and beer. A garage full of guys smoking cigars and the sweet smell of Ashton’s lingered for days. As did wonderful leftovers.

It was fun. It was loud.

We hosted Thanksgiving this year. There were empty seats. It was comfortable. It was fun and I was grateful to be with some of our family. But it was not loud.

Not the kind of loud I know.

But Christmas will arrive soon. Right?

Well, I am no medical expert, but I think the elf on the shelf may have to keep at least six feet away from the angel on the tree. Humbug.

Christmas may resemble Thanksgiving, but with wrapping paper.

Fun, but not loud.

Christmas is another holiday that we always celebrate as a family. Often, several times. Once with our kids and then again with siblings and their families. We usually add time with friends, some from out of town, who are visiting their families. Not this year.

When we were young parents, we usually traveled to a Christmas party on each side of the family, and eventually again, at home. It included a lot of traveling. It was insanely busy. It got exhausting. But it was exactly how it should be.

At times, it was obnoxiously loud.

When our kids were young, I bought a video camera. It was big, bulky, and the quality was just average, but it did a decent job of capturing moments. One Christmas Eve at my parent’s house, I sat on the floor among a living room overflowing with aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, etc., and hit record. It was like taping a Metallica concert inside a beehive. We were shoulder to shoulder, yet somehow animated and buzzing around. There was great laughter. Everyone was talking. At least it started that way. After a while, it was so loud, shouting was necessary to be heard. I could not tell if anyone was actually listening.

I love obnoxiously loud.

Then there is the last holiday of the year – New Year’s Eve. The chance to gather in big or small groups and really let loose, dance, sing, hug, kiss, and scream at midnight. Music, fireworks, noisemakers.

Noisemakers.

If only auld acquaintances like Covid 19 could be forgot and never brought to mind. Unfortunately, that will not be the case. 2020 will soon be in the history books. Good riddance.

If only there was a way to extract the good things that took place, while expunging all the bad. Too much sickness. Too much politics. Too much hatred and violence.

Not enough outward appreciation for what we have, no matter how flawed it can be.

So, the holidays will not be exactly as we want them. Honestly, I can get sliced turkey at a deli and cheap champagne at a gas station mini-mart and still be fine.

Christmas is different, though.

I couldn't care less about gift exchanges. This time of the year makes me realize just how blessed I am, knowing full well that others are suffering or struggling in ways that I am not.

To me, Christmas is about recognizing and celebrating the greatest birthday ever. And the only gifts that matter cannot be bought at a nice store or conveniently on-line. They are the ones God gave us when he gave us each other. We can never appreciate this enough.

Circle back to loud.

If I could wish for anything it would be for the loudness that comes with being surrounded by the people that mean the most to us. All of us. Anytime and anyplace.

I would wish to see my dad, quarantined in assisted living since April, holding his great-granddaughter and hearing her sweet baby chatter loudly and clearly. Then looking deep into each other’s eyes in a way only the very young and very old seem to understand.

I would wish that we could put our differences aside and focus more on the things we have in common.

I would stick a jagged piece of coal in Covid 19’s sock. Or up someplace else.

So, while I value the sentiment and story behind Silent Night, I wish for nothing close to silent nights during the holidays.

I wish for all reading this to have loud.

This column originally appeared in the Times, a Shaw publication.