You might feel differently, but to me, theres something intrinsically wrong about a TV network airing How the Grinch Stole Christmas in November but thats what happened late last month.
Same thing with Rudolph, the one starring Burl Ives as the voice of Sam the Snowman.
Those shows should be saved for December, preferably mid-month.
Then again, about the time I expect to see Halloween decorations for sale, stores are already pushing Santa Claus to make an early appearance.
There is very little patience in this world anymore.
And you know what they say about patience.
Its a virtue.
So, drawing a straight line between those two points, my only conclusion is that impatience trumps virtue.
Well, thats simply stupid.
Why is everybody in such a hurry?
Why cant we savor the holidays instead of rushing out to buy stuff before the Thanksgiving stuffing has yet to cool in an icebox full of leftovers.
They call it Black Friday.
That should give you a clue.
I got an e-mail from a childhood friend of mine the other night and he wondered if I still did most of my shopping on Christmas Eve.
Funny how a guy gets known for something like that.
But its true.
To me, it seems totally appropriate to walk along Main Street, listening to the carols, enjoying the snowfall, anticipating a family get-together the next day ... and simply shopping with your heart.
Not some list.
No offense to Santa, but I couldnt check it twice, because I never had one in the first place.
One year, when I was maybe 10, I bought my brother a protractor.
These days, Id be hard-pressed to tell you what a protractor even does (or did), but back then, I knew hed need one soon, based on my experiences in Catholic grade school.
Of course, it only cost six bits, which left me with more than enough to get him something much nicer.
Christmas Eve shopping is a very serious challenge. You have to be up for it. You have to have the spirit. You have to be unfettered by simple logic. You have to dare to care.
Creativity is the key that unlocks the door to confidence.
These days, newspapers carry little countdown blocks above the masthead, counting down the days to Christmas They must think were idiots. Who, this side of a cemetery, doesnt know that on the 15th, there are only 10 days to Christmas.
Still, I understand the logic, which is to urge readers to shop, shop, shop ... preferably at places that buy ad inches.
Capitalism in action.
My wife is a pure capitalist who ought to be in the Capitalist Hall of Fame. As I write, shes not only completed her shopping, she has finished her wrapping, her card-addressing, her share of house-decorating and her vacation-requesting.
Shes more than organized.
Shes locked and loaded.
I, on the other hand, am exercising patience.
Faithful readers might remember that my big Christmas gift for my wife was necessarily given to her on our wedding anniversary in October. If youd like to read all about it, click on past columns on this site. Youll find it amusing and entertaining, I hope.
But thats left a great void in my Christmas morning plans and, since the crystal blue conch shell has already been given, I will have to conjure another major surprise. It wont be easy, but Im waiting for a bolt of inspiration to strike, like lightning in a snowstorm.
Speaking of the weather, I miss it. By that I mean, back home, you all take the four separate seasons for granted and you should know that down here, we have only two: summer and almost summer. Fall lasts about three days and winter less than a month.
Christmas, though, isnt about shopping and snowfall and showy exterior lighting.
Just ask the Grinch, though hes probably incommunicado until next November.
I remember one Christmas Eve, when my then-fiancee and I were living in a house in the ghetto. It was my favorite place, down near the grain elevator and the slag heaps, a tumbling-down brick edifice that had been built just before or after the Civil War, it was unclear.
What was clear was that on the day before Christmas, Id done no shopping.
Zero.
I was the anti-capitalist.
Snow was falling but the carols were playing and the stores were open and I pinballed my way from here to there and came up with a bunch of gifts that pleased the woman in my life to no end. Staying up late, Id wrapped them as I listened to the Time-Life Collection of Holiday Classics, sipping grog and smiling.
Which brings us to the other night, when my wife and I were decorating her White Tree.
Kind of like the Beatles 1968 LP, which has become known as The White Album.
I had the Time-Life Collection playing as we worked together, building that tree from stand to star, and when White Christmas came on, I asked my wife, rather facetiously, to name the singer.
Wait, she said. I know it.
I was patient.
Willie Nelson, she said.
I waited.
Andy Williams?
I was virtuous.
Yes, I said, Bing Crosby is what I know you meant.
It is, after all, the season of giving.
Mike Dewey can be e-mailed at CarolinamikeD@aol.com or snail-mailed at 6211 Cardinal Drive, New Bern, NC 28560.
