"All I want for Christmas is my san-i-ty, my..."

Call me old fashioned, but I love those old Christmas albums my parents collected. Johnny Mathis, Spike Jones, and so on. Yes, we all know what we should know to be the real reason for the season, but there's something heavenly about Christmas kitsch, too. There is a cozy Christmas aesthetic that has been accumulated in our culture. Here are just a few holiday touchstones that come to mind, and you tell me if they don't ring a (Christmas) bell in your memory: Santa Coca-Cola glasses from Krystal; Rudolf, Heat Miser, and the odd way Frosty says, "Happy Birthday" whenever he comes to life in that cartoon; driving through otherwise uninteresting neighborhoods in the cold dark and checking out the lights; the cool feel of tinsel in your palms (because you just took it down from the attic) as you decorate the tree; the funky musty oldness of that 20-year-old cardboard box; the egg-shell ornaments your grandmother made during her "crafty" days; the color-coded (white, yellow, red, blue) painted metal ends of the plastic tree branches that you had to jam just so into the fake trunk; the Hickory Farms salami sausage you bought for your grandfather, which he shared with you; seeing a red light blinking on a jet and your parents confirming, yep, that's Rudolph alright; the plastic grips on your first bike's (a Rampar) handlebars that start to slip off after a few days; the way all the kids put their opened presents in a pile next to the hearth, and the fun of going through that pile again and again for a day or two; the feel and smell of new softback books you got for Christmas; the black, empty face of the Ghost of Christmas Future in the best "Christmas Carol" ever produced for film; putting together your first Star Wars puzzle with Han Solo and "Chewie" in the picture; helping out at the East Side (i.e. poor white side of town) Salvation Army putting toy-bundles together and groceries to give out to the families who show up there (yes, that's a cozy memory, too -- don't ask me why). I guess what I'm getting at is that being told over and over that we better be spiritual at Christmas ignores the fact that we are creatures of our senses, too, and have an affinity for sounds, tastes, touches, sights, and scents that are special and pleasing. Christmas appeals to the senses in so many ways, the closest to real magic we can ever get - save through romantic love. No wonder the Christmas story in the Bible is so appealing from start to finish. Depleting Christmas of Santa and presents and fine food (and fast-food Christmas glasses) might be like cutting out the part about the Three Wise Men and their exotic gifts; the donkey; the "Lo!" of the arch angel. We love those details of Christmas, too. I happen to think that God smiles at our delight of the so-called "trappings" of Christmas, because He gave us an awareness of beauty that is never so alive as at this time of year. Perhaps our senses (and our memories) are never more awake and aware than at Christmas. We're ready for a Scrooge-like conversion from our crazy, boring, insane adult lives. I'll take it. God bless us, every one!