Happy (insert holiday here)

                                              Happy (insert holiday here)

                                                       by Marco M. Pardi

“April 1. This is the day upon which we are reminded of what we are on the other three hundred and sixty-four.” Mark Twain, Pudd’nhead Wilson, 1894

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Very early on I took great interest in etymology, the derivation of words.  I was not surprised to learn that holiday derived from holy day, religion pervading so much of our lives. About that same time some kids asked me how we celebrated Thanksgiving in Italy.  I did not then know that just about every agrarian society had a harvest festival of some kind.  I also did not know how it was done in Italy, but for different reasons.  Born in the midst of WWII and living there into its aftermath, I knew only that the locusts (Germans) stole everything they could get their hands on including food, medicine, blankets, and even women’s wedding rings.  The “deliverance” by the incoming Allied forces did little to mitigate the problem as they “bought” (appropriated) local food for themselves.  I’ve had lifelong consequences.  And, no, I don’t remember any glut fest. So, I told the kids we stuffed a turkey with spaghetti. Some people believe anything.

I also found it interesting that when naming a holiday in a greeting there are rules: Easter, 4th of July, Halloween, and Thanksgiving are preceded by Happy; Christmas is preceded by Merry. An Illegal, a foreign intelligence officer inserted into the U.S., must remember this distinction as saying Happy Christmas might draw unwanted attention.  What is it saying that Halloween, an opportunity for deceit and extortion, is quickly becoming America’s favorite holiday?

I also learned that America has a long tradition of blurring the line between secular and religious celebrations.  One demonstrates the “Christmas spirit” by near bankrupting one’s self in the mercantile race for the approval of others. My family was never drawn in much by gift giving.  This was fine with me; while other boys were unwrapping their presents I was unwrapping their sisters.   

Of course, ultra-conservative politicians have merrily plunged into utterly unfounded rhetoric about the “War on Christmas”. This dog whistle is heard sharply by xenophobic fundamentalists who reject anything differing from their concept of a Northern European looking Jesus who founded the U.S. on their version of Christian principles, a Jesus who points a finger accusingly at the United Nations building in New York.  “Religious freedom” means you are free to practice their religion.  

Although I’m aware of the solstice ceremonies pre-dating the Christmas ritual by thousands of years – the latter (Christmas) being retro-dated on the calendar to absorb the former, I’m fine with Christmas itself even with all its edits, deletions, additions, and myths. I don’t get offended when greeted with Merry Christmas.  But the fundamentalists can’t let it stop there.  A few years ago I went with a neighbor to the 4th of July celebration held in the town square of the small. ultra-conservative town we live near just northeast of Atlanta, Georgia.  It was to be a celebration of Independence and all the wonderful freedoms Americans enjoy. The centerpiece of the square is the courthouse at which Hustler magazine publisher Larry Flynt was shot and crippled for life. His magazine regularly published articles exposing American policies and practices curbing personal freedom in the U.S. and around the world.

A very large crowd was in attendance as ceremonies got off to the usual start: high school kids dressed up as a military honor guard, canned drum and fife music, and flags held defiantly toward a sky which showed no interest.  A young lady yodeled the national anthem, people stood and held their hands over their pacemakers,  and Chinese lawn chairs from Wal-Mart brought from home scraped the pavement as patriots in variously emblazoned hats sank into their seats while grandchildren looked in vain for anything of interest.

As the mayor held forth, Americana became momentarily timeless.  That Lexus parked just in sight became a coach and two, the VW a buckboard and tired mule, young adults eyeing each other were surely anticipating the coming barn dance. And then it happened.

The mayor turned the podium over to the minister of the largest congregation in the area. Audience affect immediately changed from vibrant and interested to pious and subdued, a talent honed by many in a society which is religious one or maybe one and a half days a week and cut-throat mercantile the rest.  Caps were doffed, heads were bowed, nasal oxygen tubes adjusted. After invoking the attention of his favorite deity, he embarked on a frothy condemnation of those “un-Christians who would destroy our way of life and surely burn in Hell.”

My memory flashed to a funeral I had recently attended for a young man whose father was Christian and mother Vietnamese Buddhist.  Being much closer to the mother’s side of the family, I sat with them as the Christian minister excoriated them and told them they would burn in Hell.  The Buddhist monks stood passively by until their turn to carry out their function. I wondered if the minister knew that the conclusion of the ceremony would be the monks guiding the mother to the cremation retort where she would turn the switch to cremate her son.

Refocusing on the 4th of July event, I was appalled and offended at a political event, the celebration of a successful secession from a tyrannical British monarchy, turned into a Come to Jesus tent revival. And so, with Larry Flynt in mind, I quietly left.

But in some situations it is not as easy to just leave.  Family get togethers can be problematic for people of principle.  My daughter’s mother and I divorced when my daughter was almost 4 years old.  I was spared direct participation in the Swedish/Norwegian Lutheran celebrations her mother attended.  But when I had my daughter at Christmas I decided to make it meaningful in her life.  I planted a Norfolk Island pine in my backyard and explained to my daughter that instead of killing a tree for Christmas we would celebrate and give to our tree, which we did by my holding a fertilizer spike – an 8″ cone of hardened fertilizer, as she hammered it into the soil at the base of the tree. We also prepared special meals for all our companion animals and gave them toys – or apples for the horses. This seemed to become very meaningful for her. Of course, I had no control over the rituals she would have to attend on her return, but deep feelings have more power than shallow acts.

Throughout my teaching career students have asked how I navigate in social settings with religious overtones.  If I can avoid them, I don’t go.  Ironically, my first real test of this came in my first year of full time teaching.  The college president, an ardent fundamentalist presiding over a State institution, mandated faculty attendance at graduation ceremonies.  Donning the robe and hood was no problem but the ceremony began with a “Benediction” by a local evangelist. I found it offensive and in violation of basic principles of higher education.  I also wanted to keep the job, at least for a while, as it provided an excellent legend. I was “saved” by a fellow faculty member who was Chairperson of the regional American Civil Liberties Union.  He threatened to sue the college and the president for making attendance at a religious event a condition of employment.  It worked.  I attended only the first event and still received tenure some time later.

But we can’t really threaten to sue our families and friends, can we?  I’m guessing we’ve all heard the saying, You can choose your friends but not your family.  (Please, let’s not go into the stuff about floating in the pre-born ether and choosing a birth family for the lessons we will learn).  Besides, that old saying is only partially true.  One marries a spouse for who that person is. Sometimes that means navigating in an in-law family that would not be of one’s choosing.

I like to suggest that when people find themselves in uncomfortable familial settings, by birth or by marriage, they ask themselves, “Would I be with these people if they were not family?” In either case, if the answer is no there are indications that interactions must be examined and negotiated to the extent of one’s tolerance. “Domestic tranquility” is not free.  Having it all your way can mean you are quite alone. If you are fine with that, then so be it.  If other factors outweigh such an option, one should do a cost/benefit analysis and accept the results. 

I’m a pretty tolerant person.  Just don’t ask me to say Grace.