And so this is Christmas (in July)

(572 words)

I was careless with the candy and the dog ate all the chocolates so this Christmas-in-July will be a little less special than ones from the past.

Well, for everyone but the dog.

I’ve been busy moving Mom so C-in-J feels rushed. You can tell, too, because that’s maybe the first time in holiday history anyone’s felt compelled to abbreviate Christmas-in-July.

But I got some gift cards, some candy, a couple crappy presents and the weird Bob Dylan Christmas album is ready for its traditional blare in about an hour. 

What’s missing?

A Christmas movie. I usually go to the video store and snag a rental of one of the favorites.

Not this year.

I didn’t have time and I couldn’t settle on one that fit.

I didn’t want “It’s a Wonderful Life” because this year it isn’t. To anyone with a passing familiarity with the headlines it seems like an unrelentingly dark and brutal life.

George Bailey feels like jumping off a bridge? Who could blame him?

Every day seems to bring another bloody episode of either terrorism or mass shooting.

Really, the special I’d most like to see is the one that for me has the most resonance in this sad time.

That would be “How The Grinch Stole Christmas,” maybe the most misleadingly titled program of all time.

Because the Grinch most certainly did not steal Christmas.

If anything it should be called “How The Grinch Failed to Steal Christmas.”

Maybe that didn’t rhyme.

I ask you to recall the 1966 show now and anytime you feel saddened by grim news.

It is, of course, revered for its nostalgic charm, wit, animation and message about how a Grinchy heart can change over time.

But that’s not at all the most relevant message.

To me, the most important message has nothing to do with the Grinch and everything to do with the Whos.

They wake up Christmas morning to find everything gone, laid to waste. The most special day of the year has been ruined by incarnate evil.

What do the Whos do?

They celebrate. They party. They embrace the day.

They react as if it doesn’t matter that evil has struck.

The message isn’t really that the Grinch changes. It’s that the Whos do not.

I’m heartened that every time after every bloody attack that things return right away to normal.

We still attend parades, concerts and live each day to its fullest. There’s no decrease in zany contests or absurd, joyful behavior.

That’s tells me that, as scared as people are, everyone realizes that none of the threats we’re facing is existential. None of the enemies who seek to destroy our way of life will ever succeed.

We still have the option to enjoy so many splendid days.

Despite our divisions, we’re all on at least this point happy little Whos.

I think people get that.

I say it again: Anytime you hear of anyone dying suddenly, it ought to reinforce the need to always be living suddenly.

To me, the most inaccurate cliche of all-time is “You only live once.”

Bullshit.

In fact, you only die once.

You can live each and every day.

So Merry Christmas in July!

That’s what it’ll be here in the Rodell house.

The kids won’t even care that the dog ate all the chocolates.

Related …

And so this is Christmas

’twas a Merry Christmas in July

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Ways Christmas in July beats Christmas (from '12)

The stockings aren’t hung by the chimney with care and St. Nicolas is no where in sight.

You can stand in our doorway and demand figgy pudding until you’re blue in the face. You can go. You won’t get some.

No Black Friday sales stampedes, no wrapping, no in-laws, no Savior-thanking hoo-ha. 

Merry Christmas in July! It’s the secular essence of the holy day everyone loves for all the wrong reasons.

It’s only 153 days until Christmas. That means it’ll only be about 54 days until our area retailers begin cramming Christmas down our throats. It’ll be sales, displays, carols, and mercenary goodwill before they even put out the Halloween candy.

For me, it’s all gone from “Oh! Holy Night!” To “Oh! Holy Shit!”

Just thinking about Christmas in October through December raises my blood pressure.

And I’m not talking about the sacred parts, which I enjoy. I love when duties ease and there’s time to bask in soulful understanding about why Christmas really matters.

That lasts about 30 minutes. Then it’s back to strategizing party visits like Ike did on D-Day.

That’s what makes Christmas in July such a subversive pleasure.

I started doing it for the girls about five years ago. I thought it could be a sort of surprise poor man’s Christmas, which makes perfect sense because I’m a very poor man.

What’s great is the expectations are absolute zero. In fact, as I type this our daughters, ages 11 and 6, don’t even know it’s Christmas in July.

In about 20 minutes, I’ll begin blasting Bob Dylan’s 2009 oddball Christmas carol collection, “Christmas in the Heart.” I love Dylan, but hearing him sing, “Here Comes Santa Claus,” “Winter Wonderland,” and “Must Be Santa” in July is perfectly surreal.

Heck, given his nonsensical interpretations of his own hits, anymore hearing Dylan sing “Blowing in the Wind” is perfectly surreal.

The jarring sounds will cause such a clatter, the girls will storm out of their rooms to rage. Their instinct will be to shout at me for waking them and, even worse, waking them with Bob Dylan.

Then -- hallelujah -- they’ll see the Christmas in July card table, the “Merry Christmas in July” cake surrounded by all the newspaper wrapped presents that include the plastic DVD crate containing the video store rental of the classic “A Christmas Story.” 

It’s Christmas in July!

It’s so unexpected.

Part of that is because I don’t do it every July 25. Not having it every years allows forgetful loved ones to be surprised when it suddenly reappears without any typical holiday hype. That’s the beauty of Christmas in July. You make up the rules as you go along.

For instance, one year I bought for a centerpiece a lovely mistletoe and roses floral arrangement. This year I didn’t want to risk feeling stressed, so I instead used my Pittsburgh Pirate ballcap.

It’s nice, too, for Val because for traditional Christmas she does nearly all the shopping, all the cooking, all the cleaning and all the fretting.

Really, with me doing all the drinking, it’s a wonder it bugs me so much.

So I get her a nice bottle of wine and a card thanking her for all she does.

You know what the best part of Christmas in July is? Telling people you’re shopping for Christmas in July. You get a real charge out of sharing the idea with people.

They seem so charmed.

I think that’s because we could all use a little more year ‘round Christmas, but none of us wants to go through any more Christmas to have it. So it’s nice to take maybe one day a year to have a little Christmas without all the hell and the hassle.

It’s nice, too, because it’s a momentary break from having to think about gun violence, pedophiliac coaches and the national heartbreak of “Twilight” actress Kristin Stewart hooking up with snakey director Rupert Sanders.

It’s a nice respite.

And, you know, for just one day it really ‘tis the season.

Ho! Ho! Ho! Sunday rerun! Christmas in July is Friday!

I’m taking the unusual step of informing you of one of my favorite “holidays” five days in advance to give you time to plan something. Anything. Even a little nothing will make a difference. Yes, Friday is Christmas in July! The surprise in my family is gone and now my greedy little darlings are awash in crass expectation. That ruins it a bit for me. But not for you! Try and throw together a little surprise celebration for Friday. It can be very fun and soul-enriching.

Remember, only five more shopping days until Christmas in July!

The stockings aren’t hung by the chimney with care and St. Nicolas is no where in sight.

You can stand in our doorway and demand figgy pudding until you’re blue in the face. You can go. You won’t get some.

No Black Friday sales stampedes, no wrapping, no in-laws, no Savior-thanking hoo-ha.

Merry Christmas in July! It’s the secular essence of the holy day everyone loves for all the wrong reasons.

It’s only 153 days until Christmas. That means it’ll only be about 54 days until our area retailers begin cramming Christmas down our throats. It’ll be sales, displays, carols, and mercenary goodwill before they even put out the Halloween candy.

For me, it’s all gone from “Oh! Holy Night!” To “Oh! Holy Crap!”

Just thinking about Christmas in October through December raises my blood pressure.

And I’m not talking about the sacred parts, which I enjoy. I love when duties ease and there’s time to bask in soulful understanding about why Christmas really matters.

That lasts about 30 minutes. Then it’s back to strategizing party visits like Ike did on D-Day.

That’s what makes Christmas in July such a subversive pleasure.

I started doing it for the girls about five years ago. I thought it could be a sort of surprise poor-man’s Christmas, which makes perfect sense because I’m a very poor man.

What’s great is the expectations are absolute zero. In fact, as I type this our daughters, ages 11 and 6, don’t even know it’s Christmas in July.

In about 20 minutes, I’ll begin blasting Bob Dylan’s 2009 oddball Christmas carol collection, “Christmas in the Heart.” I love Dylan, but hearing him sing, “Here Comes Santa Claus,” “Winter Wonderland,” and “Must Be Santa” in July is perfectly surreal.

Heck, given his nonsensical interpretations of his own hits, any more hearing Dylan sing “Blowing in the Wind” is perfectly surreal.

The jarring sounds will cause such a clatter, the girls will storm out of their rooms to rage. Their instinct will be to shout at me for waking them and, even worse, waking them with Bob Dylan.

Then -- hallelujah -- they’ll see the Christmas in July card table, the “Merry Christmas in July!” cake surrounded by all the newspaper wrapped presents that include the plastic DVD crate containing the video store rental of the classic “A Christmas Story.”

It’s Christmas in July!

It’s so unexpected.

Part of that is because I don’t do it every July 25. Not having it every year allows forgetful loved ones to be surprised when it suddenly reappears without any typical holiday hype. That’s the beauty of Christmas in July. You make up the rules as you go along.

For instance, one year I bought for a centerpiece a lovely mistletoe and roses floral arrangement. This year I didn’t want to risk feeling stressed, so I instead used my Pittsburgh Pirate ballcap.

It’s nice, too, for Val because for traditional Christmas she does nearly all the shopping, all the cooking, all the cleaning and all the fretting.

Really, with me doing all the drinking, it’s a wonder it bugs me so much.

So I get her a nice bottle of wine and a card thanking her for all she does.

You know what the best part of Christmas in July is?

Telling people you’re shopping for Christmas in July. You get a real charge out of sharing the idea with people. They seem so charmed.

I think that’s because we could all use a little more year ‘round Christmas, but none of us wants to go through any more Christmas to have it. So it’s nice to take maybe one day a year to have a little Christmas without all the hell and the hassle.

It’s nice, too, because it’s a momentary break from having to think about gun violence, pedophiliac coaches and the national heartbreak of “Twilight” actress Kristin Stewart hooking up with snakey director Rupert Sanders.

It’s a nice respite.

And, you know, for just one day it really ‘tis the season.

My affections for inanimate objects

(682 words)

It’s a big day at the Rodell house. There will be balloons, a candle-bedecked cake, songs and warm recollections.

The guest of honor?

The Rodell house.

It was seven years ago today we moved into our little mountain home up in the woods.

My wife, our two daughters, then 6 years and 8 months, had outgrown our charming little home about a mile down the hill. We’d lived there 15 wonderful years before it became too cramped for our needs.

As many of you know, moving can be stressful. I remember when Val and I commenced our then-shack up in 1992 it was so mutually trying we didn’t speak to one another for four days.

Seven years ago, we’d become more adult. We managed to remain verbal with one another but our communications were exclusively profane.

But I love celebrating these types of otherwise inconsequential anniversaries. I guess in that way, I’m like the native Americans of yore who believe everything has a spirit.

I do believe a house acquires the spirit of its residents. 

Nashville songwriter Craig Bickhardt must agree. He wrote a magnificent song called, “This Old House.” It is sung from the first person perspective of a caring home on the day a family it so loved packed up and moved out.

Chorus:

I’ve been strong and I’ve been sturdy and I’ve weathered every storm

And I’ve always kept your family safe and warm

Now you’re packing up the laughter and you’re sweeping out the tears

If this old house were built on memories I would stand a thousand years

Check it out on YouTube and have a hankie ready.

I first heard that song in 1997. Ever since I’ve always apologized out loud to the wall before I pound a nail into it to hang up things like “Go Pens!” banners in the basement.

It may be taking it too far, but I also celebrate the known birthdays of many inanimate objects.

I started doing this when I noticed that the gents who installed some of our more utilitarian cellar appliances wrote in indelible Sharpie the dates when the items sprang to life.

So preparations are being made the celebrate the 2nd birthday of our hot water heater on March 3 and the 3rd birthday of the new furnace just around the corner on April 7.

Thus, the hot water heater is a Pisces; the furnace an Aries.

It would have put the “logic” in astrological if the hot water heater had been delivered two weeks earlier so the big white vessel could have been born under the sign of Aquarius, the water carrier.

Pisces are described as being reasonable, artistic and quiet. The hot water heater is two of out of the three. It’s never behaved unreasonably -- rare for any 2 year old -- and it is always quiet. 

I guess it would take the late Andy Warhol to appreciate its artistic side.

Aries is particularly apt for a furnace because its essential zodiac element is fire. And in its years functioning within our home’s walls it’s been steadfast in its delivery.

I’m perfectly at peace with it.. Yes, it sounds contradictory but I’m cool with the furnace.

The older I get the more I prefer the company of inanimate things like our appliances to anything described as animated.

It’s okay for Bugs Bunny and Homer Simpson to be animated, but obnoxious when you can describe guys like Donald Trump or Hugo Chavez with the same adjective.

Animated men and women are almost always troublemakers.

They shout. They start fights. They disturb the peace.

I’ve been there. When I was a young man, I was always in bars where animated people were forever in a rowdy boil. Hell, I was often one of them.

Not anymore.

I can see my life heading in a trajectory where I spend all my free time with quiet inanimate objects, things that rarely speak and are incapable of motion without the assistance of two stout movers and wheeled appliance dollies.

That’s why I like hanging out at the places where I do. 

They’re full of large inanimate objects. They’re great company.

Just the other night one of them bought me a beer.

Related . . .

Trump’s no jackass; he’s under- qualified

Ways Christmas in July beats Christmas

Ways Christmas in July beats Christmas

The stockings aren’t hung by the chimney with care and St. Nicolas is no where in sight.

You can stand in our doorway and demand figgy pudding until you’re blue in the face. You can go. You won’t get some.

No Black Friday sales stampedes, no wrapping, no in-laws, no Savior-thanking hoo-ha.

Merry Christmas in July! It’s the secular essence of the holy day everyone loves for all the wrong reasons.

It’s only 153 days until Christmas. That means it’ll only be about 54 days until our area retailers begin cramming Christmas down our throats. It’ll be sales, displays, carols, and mercenary goodwill before they even put out the Halloween candy.

For me, it’s all gone from “Oh! Holy Night!” To “Oh! Holy Crap!”

Just thinking about Christmas in October through December raises my blood pressure.

And I’m not talking about the sacred parts, which I enjoy. I love when duties ease and there’s time to bask in soulful understanding about why Christmas really matters.

That lasts about 30 minutes. Then it’s back to strategizing party visits like Ike did on D-Day.

That’s what makes Christmas in July such a subversive pleasure.

I started doing it for the girls about five years ago. I thought it could be a sort of surprise poor-man’s Christmas, which makes perfect sense because I’m a very poor man.

What’s great is the expectations are absolute zero. In fact, as I type this our daughters, ages 11 and 6, don’t even know it’s Christmas in July.

In about 20 minutes, I’ll begin blasting Bob Dylan’s 2009 oddball Christmas carol collection, “Christmas in the Heart.” I love Dylan, but hearing him sing, “Here Comes Santa Claus,” “Winter Wonderland,” and “Must Be Santa” in July is perfectly surreal.

Heck, given his nonsensical interpretations of his own hits, any more hearing Dylan sing “Blowing in the Wind” is perfectly surreal.

The jarring sounds will cause such a clatter, the girls will storm out of their rooms to rage. Their instinct will be to shout at me for waking them and, even worse, waking them with Bob Dylan.

Then -- hallelujah -- they’ll see the Christmas in July card table, the “Merry Christmas in July!” cake surrounded by all the newspaper wrapped presents that include the plastic DVD crate containing the video store rental of the classic “A Christmas Story.”

It’s Christmas in July!

It’s so unexpected.

Part of that is because I don’t do it every July 25. Not having it every year allows forgetful loved ones to be surprised when it suddenly reappears without any typical holiday hype. That’s the beauty of Christmas in July. You make up the rules as you go along.

For instance, one year I bought for a centerpiece a lovely mistletoe and roses floral arrangement. This year I didn’t want to risk feeling stressed, so I instead used my Pittsburgh Pirate ballcap.

It’s nice, too, for Val because for traditional Christmas she does nearly all the shopping, all the cooking, all the cleaning and all the fretting.

Really, with me doing all the drinking, it’s a wonder it bugs me so much.

So I get her a nice bottle of wine and a card thanking her for all she does.

You know what the best part of Christmas in July is?

Telling people you’re shopping for Christmas in July. You get a real charge out of sharing the idea with people. They seem so charmed.

I think that’s because we could all use a little more year ‘round Christmas, but none of us wants to go through any more Christmas to have it. So it’s nice to take maybe one day a year to have a little Christmas without all the hell and the hassle.

It’s nice, too, because it’s a momentary break from having to think about gun violence, pedophiliac coaches and the national heartbreak of “Twilight” actress Kristin Stewart hooking up with snakey director Rupert Sanders.

It’s a nice respite.

And, you know, for just one day it really ‘tis the season.

'twas a Merry Christmas in July

Christmas in July was over before you know it and now I can’t wait until next July 25.

I’m usually Scrooge-like when it comes to all holidays that don’t involve drinking and joking, and I don’t feel the need to crowd the calendar with any more days of structured jolliness. If I feel like being a mean, nasty SOB on holy days like Easter or Christmas, by God, I want to do it.

But as I come to grips with the knowledge that I’ll likely die as I’ve lived -- flat broke -- I’ve understood I need to make some compensations so my daughters will leaven their memories about their lazy, unproductive father with the appreciation that the old man was good for giggling.

So as we entered the dog days of summer, our vacation behind us, school still a ways off, I knew I needed to do something until August 7 and National Lighthouse Day.

I seized on July 25, Christmas in July. It was a natural because Christmas in December is the very best holiday for kids like ours, ages 8 and 3. And because, as we can all agree, Christmas needs some tyrannical improvements.

It’s too commercial. It’s excessively shrill. You feel pressure to do repulsive things like hug in-laws.

But Christmas in July is a fresh canvass. A visionary like me could cast it any way he wants.

And now I’m hopeful Christmas in July will usurp Christmas in December.

First of all, there is no stress to Christmas in July. In fact, I decided to honor the holiday just two shopping days before the actual event. That’s plenty of time because I decided everyone would get just one gift. I was able to shop for and wrap all four gifts in two hours (got myself a DVD of John Wayne’s, “Red River”).

Second, no Santa and no Jesus. They’re both real sweethearts, but every December they engage in an unseemly tug-of-war that makes the holiday difficult for sensitive sorts like me. So for Christmas in July, to hell with the both of them.

Third, decorations are minimized. There will be no neighborhood competitions about who can create the most light and noise pollution with mega-watt, ‘round-the-clock renditions of “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.” Christmas in July is a stealth holiday. In fact, my wife didn’t even know it was happening until she walked down stairs to our cozy basement and saw a fire in the fireplace (it was 84-degrees outside) and the rented version of “A Christmas Story” on TV.

And lastly, there will be no silly arguments about what you can and can’t say. One of the best parts of Christmas in July was going to the local florist shop and asking for a Christmas in July arrangement. They’d never made one so we took a lovely vase full of fragrant summer sunshine (make up your own rules as you go along). The flowers served as the de facto Christmas tree and, believe me, it was a lot easier getting it into the house.

But the girls in the flower shop seemed perfectly charmed when my daughters and I explained the holiday and bid them Merry Christmas in July. One was so tickled, she said she was going to stop by and sing Christmas in July carols. I said she was welcome to do so but Christmas in July meant we didn’t have to answer the door and pretend we were happy with her off-key intrusion.

Wishing people a joyful “Merry Christmas!” in July was the best part of Christmas in July.

They seemed uplifted. For a moment, they could forget about their troubles and remember that once, well, six months ago, there was a time when the mundane greetings of our daily lives were exchanged by something more euphoric.

And because it was so unexpected half-a-year away, it wasn’t freighted with the baggage of all that Christmas in December entails. It didn’t have the pressures, the expenses and traditional obligations.

It was July. It was Christmas. And it was Merry.

I hope next year you circle July 25 on the calendar and remember to give you and your loved ones a little unseasonal treat.

Me, I’ll remain vigilant in looking for ways to bring spiritual improvement to every holiday.

And, remember, only 97 shopping days until April Fool’s Day in November!