Not Exactly Rudolph's Red Nose

Growing up Jewish but with our best friends next door Italian Catholics, I developed a severe case of Christmas envy that lasted well into my twenties, and may have even been partly responsible for my first marriage to what is commonly known as a goy.  I distinctly remember Hanukkah as the poorest sort of substitute, wherein I opened a dreary little gift on each of eight nights in the ever-dimming light of the menorah candles, followed by some greasy potato pancakes that gave me an upset stomach; I may have been the youngest person on record with acid reflux. Yes, there was the dreidel game, but big deal-- a few spins and that was pretty much played.

It all contrasted sharply with the fantastic glow coming from the house next door, all lit up like a --well, like a Christmas tree. And inside, there was the actual tree with the sparkling special ornaments and the presents piled halfway up to the ceiling, and hot chocolate with whipped cream and festive cookies and candy canes and that drippy silver tinsel making everything glitter. Outside there were Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus all cozy in the manger and the Three Wise Men on the way bearing even more gifts, and Santa on top of it all, with Rudolph leading all the rest of them, and don't forget that bottomless bag of toys. Christmas was magical, no two ways about it.

Which is why the annual degradation of that holiday always bothers me, bringing the opposite of joy to the world. Here it is only mid-November and I'm already bummed out by this latest affront to the celebration of the birth of Christ that appeared on my Facebook page: "Join Fab.com today and check out fun design objects for the holidays--like reindeer butt magnets." One wonders: WWJD?