Now that Christmas is over, I’d like to complain.
Enough with the sanctimonious, self-righteous, guilt-tripping scolding about Christmas. Jesus may be your reason for the season, but it’s never been mine, and I don’t feel any compelsion* to disabuse you of your beliefs. Quit demonizing the exchange of gifts. I like to think about what a person might want, to try to come up with something that will be a pleasant surprise, something that indicates that more than the exchange of money for goods was involved. Someone gave me David Sedaris’s newest book for my birthday, but more important than the book was that the person put enough thought into the gift to know that it was perfect for me.
*Thank you, Barney Fife, for introducing that word to my lexicon.
