Grandpa Is a Weary Christmas Enthusiast

By CHARLES M. GUTHRIE
of the editorial page staff
published by the StarTribune
December 14, 1969


   ALL MY long life I've been gung ho on Christmas and still must be numbered among the day's staunch supporters. But ardor has cooled to the point where I catch myself wondering why everybody scurries around so at this time of year, buys with such abandon, and never allows sufficient time for stringing the lights or whipping up the eggnog. Everything is done under pressure.
   No lights yet twinkle in front of my residence and I shudder at the effort required to establish the setting. For years we have draped blue lights on a Colorado spruce and strung yellow, green and red bulbs along the porch windows.

   I ONCE was revved up for this chore by the spirit of the season, but no more. This goes particularly for the spruce. Back when it was six or seven feet tall it posed no challenge. Now a 14-footer, it's not only a challenge but a threat. A ladder must be used and my meager aptitude for ladders is cancelled out when snow is on the ground and overshoes on the feet.

I MAY LEAVE the decorating job to the weather. It has done admirably for most of the month, and the snow on the branches provides a natural look that blue lights do not. Anyway, the bulbs are stolen as often as not and why risk a broken neck to gladden the hearts of thieves?
   My plaint about Christmas, I confess focuses on the grinding effort it demands. I am physically out of tune with the season.
   The Christmas card custom drives me to the brink of madness, which is a shameful admission. The attitude saves postage but does violence to the love, joy and fellowship the holiday engenders.

   CHRISTMAS cards have been blown out of proportion by those having a vested interest in their production and sale. You are a cad if you don't send cards to everyone with whom you have a nodding acquaintance. A cheery "Merry Christmas" to those you see regularly is not enough. You must send a card. I emphatically disagree-- but will spend hours, nevertheless, addressing cards, licking stamps and penning little messages to all and sundry.

   MY grandchildren--and most children-- simply dote on Christmas. Why shouldn't they? The abundance that awaits them is the stuff of avaricious dreams. They receive so many gifts that each one loses identity and blends into a glittering and confusing amalgam-- bicycles, tricycles, scooters, walkie-talkies, books, dolls, doll houses, radios, cameras, record players, construction kits and tools-- an all but limitless flood.

   WHEN GRANDPA was a kid he considered Christmas breathlessly rewarding if he got candy, nuts, an apple and an orange in his stocking, an Uncle Remus book, a necktie and a flashlight. He also got some time to reflect on the meaning of Christmas.
   But those days are gone. The journey to Bethlehem and the divine birth no longer are the big story. The hucksters have taken Christ out of Christmas and made Santa Claus the top man; the preachers can't compete with Madison Avenue and anyone who can spare a dollar for a gift might as well forget it. In today's world, a dollar is peanuts. Christmas comes much higher.


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