By Arthur Vidro
On Consumerism
I reached age 10 without particularly liking any Christmas songs.
First, a little background.
When I was born my father earned his living driving a dairy truck. A year later he was fired. After that, his unemployment was a recurring condition in our household. (In middle age he would return to the road, as a cabbie.)
Partially because I recognized our family’s limited means, I struggled to take delight in the holiday season. To me it just meant (and often still means) wealthy people shopping because they’ve been conditioned to do so, and poorer people also spending (often beyond their means) in a frantic attempt to keep up.
Nor did I enjoy the seasonal music. It held no meaning for me.
“Frosty the Snowman” was always too juvenile. Even if I could build a snowman (I couldn’t), I knew it wouldn’t come to life.
“Jingle Bells” was harmless, but I had never (and still haven’t) seen a sleigh, so where’s the pleasure in singing about one? And to some of us, bell-ringing is mere noise.
Although it might be fun to root for an underdog like Rudolph and his red nose, reindeer — flying or not — were never a part of my life.
“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” presupposed one believes in Santa — which I never did.
Granted, I enjoyed hearing “The Christmas Song” (which begins with “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire”), but not because of the song. I enjoy Nat King Cole’s voice no matter what he’s singing. (And I prefer his non-seasonal hits.)
“Winter Wonderland” romanticized the season but the wonders always eluded me.
“White Christmas” made it sound as though our lives will be so much better if only it snows, as if that would make all our ills go away. Even in my childhood, I saw snow just as something that accumulates and has to be shoveled (not easy for us asthmatics).
“The Twelve Days of Christmas” was the worst offender of them all. It always struck me as a non-stop, exorbitant, and unbudgeted spending spree.
As for the overtly religious tunes, well, let’s just say I understand their appeal to many, but I’m insufficiently Christian to derive pleasure from them.
However, there is one seasonal song I love. It was written and sung by Merle Haggard. It was released October 27, 1973, when I was 10. It became a number one hit on December 22, 1973, and remained number one for four solid weeks.
When I started listening to music on the radio, the New York City suburbs didn’t receive any country stations. But early in 1973, one local station went country and sometimes I would tune in.
Without that one station (WHN) going country, I never would have heard the Haggard song, which remains my favorite holiday tune — and the only one I’ll sing along with.
In addition, that song somehow turned me into a country music fan, for it sang about Christmas and the holiday season from a viewpoint with which I could identify. It resonated with me.
The song seamlessly combines a lilting, upbeat melody with depressing, somber, real-life lyrics.
When the snow comes falling, the singer doesn’t exult jubilantly about magical white Christmases. No, this chap says, “And I shiver when I see the falling snow.”
The song concerns a factory worker who’s been fired from his job and laments:
“I don’t mean to hate December.
It’s meant to be the happy time of year.
And my little girl don’t understand.
Why Daddy can’t afford no Christmas cheer.”
I got goose-bumps when I first heard the song, and I still get them.
This season, the piped-in music in the local supermarkets is exclusively Christmas songs, but they somehow never play the only holiday tune with meaning for me:
“If We Make It Through December.”
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