December 17: Christmas Dough, Christmas Concert, Christmas Prayer

"Just my Christmas dough.  For presents and all.  I haven't done any shopping at all yet."

That's Holden's sister, Phoebe, talking.  Holden has run out of spending money, and Phoebe is trying to give him her Christmas money.  She hasn't done any of her holiday shopping.  She only has eight dollars and eighty-five cents.

Funny thing, Phoebe has about as much money as I do this year to spend on Christmas.  I started my shopping this evening on Amazon.  I'm not a big fan of huge retailers, and I think Amazon is killing the independent booksellers.  However, when you're strapped for cash, you can't really beat Amazon and Walmart.  There's reasons why everything they sell is so cheap.  First, they don't pay their employees living wages.  Second, all their merchandise is made by seven-year-olds in sweatshops in China and Guam.  And, third, they're run by soulless millionaire and billionaire Republicans.

I started my Christmas shopping finally this evening.  I couldn't avoid it any longer.  My sister lives in Utah, so I have to plan a little ahead for her kids.  She has four boys and two girls.  Many years ago, I instituted the rule of buying only books for my nieces and nephews.  I got a little tired of the endless lists of gadgets and games and phones and computers and laptops.  Everyone knows now that Uncle Marty gives the written word for Christmas.

I went to my daughter's Christmas band concert tonight.  But it's not called a Christmas concert.  It's called a "Winter" concert, which is a load of crap.  Any concert in which I hear three different versions of  "Jolly Old Saint Nicholas" is a Christmas concert.  And the music filled me with the Christmas spirit enough to make me click onto Amazon when I got home.

Dear God,

I know that money and expensive presents aren't the reason for Christmas.  I know about sacrifice and humility and charity.  I know about giving unto the least of my brothers and sisters.  I learned all that stuff in religion class when I was a kid.

But there's so much that I can't do this year.  So much that I simply don't have the energy and spirit for.   I'm not dreaming of a white Christmas.  I'm not decking any halls.  I'm not singing with any choirs of angels.

And that's what I'm praying for tonight.  It's a Christmas prayer.  I want to experience a little joy this holiday season.  I'm not asking for a full-blown George Bailey moment.  I'll be satisfied with something simple, small.

A phone call from a friend.  A beautiful song on the radio.  A new job.  A multimillion-dollar lottery jackpot.

I'm not asking for much.

Your faithful servant,

Saint Marty

I don't really miss this...

December 10: "Little Shirley Beans," Gifts, Christmas Prayer

...I was lucky.  The first record store I went into had a copy of "Little Shirley Beans."  They charged me five bucks for it, because it was so hard to get, but I didn't care.  Boy, it made me so happy all of a sudden.  I could hardly wait to get to the park to see if old Phoebe was around so that I could give it to her.

Holden can't wait to give his little sister, Phoebe, the present he bought her.  It's a silly record he thinks she'll like.  It's not a birthday present.  It's not a Christmas present, even though the book takes place a few days before Christmas day.  No, there really isn't a reason why Holden wants to give Phoebe a present.  He just finds something she'll like, and he buys it.


We are in full gift shopping season now.  The countdown has begun.  Fifteen more shopping days until Christmas.  A coworker at the medical office asked me this morning, "So, do you have all your Christmas shopping done?'

"Well," I said, "it's kind of hard to shop when I don't have any money to buy gifts with."

"Well," my friend said, laughing, "then you are done shopping."

I felt embarrassed and angry.  "Well, it kind of sucks not being able to get your kids things they want.  It sucks having to go to the Salvation Army to get your kids' Christmas presents."

For the first time in my life, I'm not looking forward to Christmas.  Christmas, this year, is something to endure.  I'm looking forward to December 26, when it's all over.  No more gifts to buy.  No more people to disappoint.  I'll just be able to get back to my normal financial worries.

I wish I could look forward to the choirs, music, cookies, eggnog, but I can't.  I can't even look forward to the church services because of some rather un-Christian decisions that have recently been made there.  I'm not feeling very Christmasy at all.  I haven't said "bah humbug" to anybody, but the thought has crossed my mind.

Christmas, Christmas everywhere, and I don't want to have anything to do with it.

Dear God,

I'm sorry for not having any Christmas spirit.  I know I'm supposed to feel charitable and blessed this time of year.  I'm having a really hard time getting to that place.  I'm just going through the motions.  I wouldn't care is Christmas was cancelled.

Somehow, I'm hoping You will fill me with some yuletide joy.  Or at least some yuletide acceptance.  There are only 14 days until Christmas Eve.  Two weeks.  Maybe I need a visit from some ghost of Christmas to snap out of this mood.  The Ghost of Christmas White Fudge-covered Oreo might do the trick.

I want to get excited about the holidays, but I can't afford it.  Help me, God.  Please.

Your loving Scrooge,

Saint Marty

It would be my luck this is my Christmas ghost