I am *so* done with Christmas.
Oh, sorry – wrong pronoun. WE are so done with Christmas: you, me, everyone. That’s it; it’s over. How do I know? Here’s my go-to grocery store in Tempe AZ on Dec 30.
This display was relatively modest: Walmart had an aisle (or maybe two) of Valentine’s Day paraphernalia. Standing at one end, I peered cautiously into the modern analogue of a formal Victorian garden, an arch of hearts above me standing in for the wrought-iron trellis supporting trailing wisteria.
Epiphany is still seven days off, but we say pfft to Epiphany. As for the Jan 11 Feast of the Baptism of the Lord (which feast I’d never heard of before today, honestly, that whole liturgical calendar thing not being a big thing in the United Church in which I grew up, and like, is it always on Jan 11? Dunno.)? Well, we say pfft to that, too, although that seems a little more disrespectful somehow. But in any event we can’t be expected to sustain Christmastide for more than two weeks. No, we are done with Christmas. After all, that Valentine’s Day chocolate isn’t going to sell itself, you know. Pitter, patter, let’s get at ‘er.
If my assigned duties ever included policing retail/promotional start times for holidays, surely I would now be excused from the Christmas portion of these duties. In fact, though, no one ever did ask me to take on any portion of this task and it’s just as well: It’s as futile as it is thankless. But that lack of formal responsibility doesn’t mean that I don’t notice the infractions, especially the ridiculous ones. And going all-in on Valentine’s Day before we have even begun to celebrate New Year’s Eve is ridiculous.
Our culture was once a dinner of appropriately sized portions, each beautifully plated with ample white space. Now we’ve doubled or tripled the portions and then smeared them all together. We’ve gone from a multi-course meal with time to anticipate, delight in, and think back on each offering, to plates piled high with a hopelessly muddled hash with no discernible beginnings or endings.
And the thing that’s really awful about this trend? It’s as unnecessary as it is obnoxious. Because chocolate really does sell itself.
