The Christmas Speed Bump

Of the short list of things I dislike, I hate, loathe and despise Cache Valley radio stations. They range from sadistically arduous to listen to, to horrifically annoying. Country is off that scale for me. Although, for reasons I can't explain, I love Bluegrass, which is like the redneck, Southern, inbred, kinfolk to Country.

Occasionally I will stumble across a song on the radio that I like. A glimmer of hope slowly kindles within me and then the next song comes on, I shriek in horror, yank a fist full of hair out of my head and quickly turn the station. In process of trying to find something on the radio last week, I stumbled across something I liked. It was the glassy smooth vocals of Frank Sinatra. I ignored the fact that he just happened to be singing a Christmas song. I hoped it was just a coincidence. I hoped to hear a song by Sammy Davis Jr. or I wouldn't even mind a Michael Buble, something more of that genre. The faint gleam of hope flickered to life inside of me. I smiled and listened to the song to the end, held my breath for that brief second before the next song came on, and -- JINGLE BELLS!!!! This time I ripped out two handfuls of hair from my head and quickly changed the channel. It is a good thing the kids were not in the car. I would have certainly startled them when I shouted "JINGLE BELLS? WHAT THE HELLS?" (incidentally, if you can rhyme a rant, it makes you feel nearly twice as satisfied) Don't get me wrong. I love Christmas music probably more than the next person, but come on! The corpse of this years Halloween hasn't even cooled. We just finished patting down the last shovel full of dirt on its grave and I turn around and there's Jolly old St. Nick? Shove off blubber butt, you've been eating too many chocolate chip cookies and now you are starting to crowd out the best holiday ever known to man -- Thanksgiving. You got the WHOLE month of December to yourself, you don't need to be elbowing in on my turkey day with your sweaty palms and your Ho-ho-hos.

Those pilgrims might have dressed funny and shot funny guns, but to their credit, I hear Calvin Klein was very much into wearing belts on your hat that year. They sure knew how to make a tradition. Thanksgiving has everything. First, you get to have a big dinner with all of your family. Not only is "turkey" a fun word to say, but it is delicious. Then you have mashed taters, olives that you can put on your fingers, pumpkin pie, sometimes you get ham. top that off with a nap in front of the TV playing some football game, wake up have some more pie, shove celery sticks up your brother-in-law's nose who is still sleeping on the couch, until he wakes up and screams at you and says he hates everyone and he wishes he would have never come to this family's thanksgiving dinner and he slams the door as he storms out and we all laugh, because his keys are still on the couch where he was laying. You just don't get better than a holiday centered around eating really good food with your family and naps. That's really the best life has to offer.

You will have to understand when I see Santa hip bump a pilgrim to the side as he settles up to the Thanksgiving table, that I don't hate the jolly old soul, I am just afraid that if he gets near that pie, there won't be any more for me when I wake up from my nap.

In a lineup of the holidays, Thanksgiving is much like it's puritan founders. Simple and neat. Christmas is the same holiday just pimped out and blinged up. You gotta warm up for something as grand and spectacular as Christmas. You can't start out full stride on a marathon like Christmas. You gotta practice. Get your pacing right. Get a feel for the eb and flow of things. You gotta make your brother-in-law apologize before you put his name back on the Christmas list... or before you give him his keys back.