CARLTON FLETCHER: ‘Tis the season of sad songs, indignant zealots

The Christmas we get we deserve.

— Greg Lake

Random thoughts about this Christmas season that somehow doesn’t quite feel like Christmas:

— One (last!) take on that “I won’t shop there because they say ‘Happy holidays’ rather than ‘Merry Christmas’” silliness: Doesn’t an inclusive greeting like “happy holidays” seem a bit more Christlike than declaring economic war on an establishment because they want everyone to feel welcome? And to suggest that “this season is all about the birth of Jesus” is, technically, wrong.

I’m no scholar, but I am aware that Jesus’ actual birthday could not have been Dec. 25, based on tax collection dates and other such data from around the time of His birth. That date was chosen and designated as Christ’s birthday based probably on some retailers’ desire to bump up end-of-the-year sales. And to suggest that the randomly designated Christian holiday is the only one that should be observed during the season is very presumptive.

Jews — you remember them, God’s chosen people? — celebrated the miracle of Hanukkah long before the birth of Christ. And their celebration is actually a little more legitimate in that it is based on the calendar and moon phases, not designated as a matter of convenience. As Sgt. Hulka told his group of misfit recruits in “Stripes,” “Lighten up, Francis.”

— Ten Christmasy things that have nothing to do with the birth of Jesus of Nazareth: 1. Santa Claus; 2. reindeer; 3. Black Friday; 4. Christmas trees; 5. poinsettias and mistletoe; 6. Alvin & the Chipmunks; 7. pre- and post-Christmas sales extravaganzas; 8. Legos (sorry, Sam); 9. milk, cookies and eggnog; 10. stockings hanging from the chimney (with or without care).

— If Christmas is such a joyous season, why are there so many sad Christmas songs? (“Blue Christmas,” “Please Come Home for Christmas,” “Santa Bring My Baby Back to Me” “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” — one of the stupidest songs of any kind ever recorded, along with the equally stupid dogs barking “Jingle Bells,” but always polished off this time of year — “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” “Even Santa Claus Gets the Blues,” “Another Lonely Christmas,” “Cold December Nights,” and Nat King Cole’s tear-jerker “The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot”)

— One of my favorite traditions growing up was sleeping on a pallet in the floor with my brother and sister on Christmas Eve so that we could get up — usually around 3 to 4 a.m., much to my father’s obvious displeasure — at the same time to see what Santa had left us. Every sudden house-settling noise would send a jolt of fear through our too-excited-to-sleep bodies as we remembered the “He sees you when you’re sleeping” line from “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” and our “wonder what he’ll bring” musings would fade ever so slowly as we finally fell out for a couple of hours.

— I don’t know why I remember this every year around Christmas time, but it’s one of my earliest memories ever. My mother worked at a drug store in Tifton (or had a friend who worked there, that part’s fuzzy), and we’d go in there often. I’ll never forget my mother — who can keep a secret about as well as a mean girl who gets a juicy tidbit about a much prettier rival — pointing out these red plastic toy buses every time we went into the drug store and saying, “I really don’t like those buses.” My brother and I, on the other hand, never even paid attention to the toys, our boy-lust settling on baseball cards and GI Joes and other cooler treasures.

As you might guess, when Christmas morning rolled around, under our tree were those damned plastic buses that our mother had “tricked” us into believing she didn’t like. I’m glad I didn’t go with my first inclination when she kept pointing out her distaste for those buses, which was that I didn’t much care for them either. Being the good son that I was, I dutifully played with mine until it got too close to the fireplace and melted. That was when it actually did become kind of cool.

— We fret about “keeping Christ in Christmas.” Here’s an idea to help: Take most of the Santa Claus and Black Friday out, and you’ll be taking big steps in that direction.

— At least all this talk about Christmases past and present has rekindled my passion for the season. Just in time, too. I have three days left to go buy presents!