Holiday Is Hell

Holiday. Damn it. It used to be easy Xmas. (History lesson: the X is Greek for He Whose Name shall not be mentioned, just BTW.) But now, everyone is afraid to say whose holiday it is. That said aloud, decorating is still a thing, as long as there is no acknowledgement of nativity unless behind a closed door. But that is not the problem. The problem is, when to up the evergreens? When can the tinsel and trifles be placed around the house? How soon is too soon? How much is too much? Will my seasonal display manifest offense in a friend whose leanings one does not know? There is no obvious Christ manifest in this merriment. Just a wish to feel, smell, sense the innocence of every childish December delight. And what about Hanukkah? He was a Jew after all. (Are we allowed to say that?) Is blue and silver allowed to coexist with green and red? And why green and red, anyway? Santa used to be blue, before Coca-Cola. But soda Santa was festooned in the color of Christ and blood. The politics of decorating, the worries of preemie dry dead evergreen, the too soon, the too late, the too long, the dissonance innocence project gone wrong. Balls and garlands and angels oh, my. No winning in the war on Christmas. I'd wish you a merry merry if it was safe to do so. Here's to the holiday of hope. Damnit. Holiday is hell.