Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Well, Thanksgiving was yesterday and for as long as I have known that means one thing: the beginning of the 27-day holiday that precedes Kris Kringle's visit is now upon us. I'm not talking about the fact that every public building will now be festooned with tree carnage and huge bows and smell of gingerbread and pine candles. I'm not talking about the near hedonistic frivolity of a day-long Black Friday retail slaughter. Nothing says Christmas more than the rows of gaudy, garish decorations and too cheerful discount signage (aways check the finer print). But I'm not talking about any of these things. No, ever since I can remember, this day has beckoned forth the true epitome of the holiday Christmas spirit: the Johnny Mathis Christmas Album (now on CD, we've modernized). I was just a wee tot when Mr. Mathis introduced me to the Little Drummer Boy and my life forever changed. "I have no gift to bring," he said. Then he offered forth the most genuinely generous thing he had - his own gift. Profoundly simple, if you ask me. (And Mary's the one who nodded permission. Righteous woman, that Mary.) But it does tend to harken some questions, as in, what gift do I have? And why does it seem that to answer that question is to indicate a lack of humility? Why is it considered haughty to talk about our own strengths? Why do we indirectly apologize for weaknesses by publicly masking ourselves in humor and wry wit? Does this unspoken etiquette make life easier? Well, I don't know about anyone else, but sometimes I just wanna say fuck it and rock the face off the status quo.