Dear Editor,
“I’ve got that Christmas feeling blowing in the air… I’ve got this lovely feeling… tell me why can’t this Christmas feelings last throughout the year?” So goes the song, but the feeling can’t last for Christmas is indeed ‘the special of specials.’ Crisis or no crisis, in spite of all the talk of “I ain’t looking after Christmas,” efforts will still be made to give it attention. In the hearts of many, it remains the blue ribbon event. And so the festive season is here with us again. Christmas has a double-edged effect that cuts deep on two opposite sides; it evokes a sense of sadness as well as joy that is hard to dismiss – a feeling of excitement and euphoria. Even though one is poor, it somehow lights up the heart, although ironically a poor person is also thrown into an emotional gear that brings to the surface a feeling of sadness. Again, it is all because of the person’s impecunious condition. The effect of Christmas is always overwhelming.
Since I was a child, like almost every other child, I have grown up to look forward to Christmas – even in hard times and under harsh conditions – with the elaborate and colourful glittering decorations of stores, buildings, business places, churches, streets and trees, etc. Those giant, impressively decorated and well-lit Christmas trees that dazzle your eyes, would put you in the mood, and the feeling like a veil would come over you. The carols and the songs that you heard everywhere you went, the hustle and bustle, the vast array of toys – as a child they create much excitement and expectation.
There is something that happens to you moving about and experiencing all of this. But it is blended with the somewhat sentimental thought that your parents’ economic standing will not be able to afford your wishes, and here is where the joy that this season is supposed to bring knocks you soft. You begin to daydream; your imagination becomes fertile, and suddenly for a while a dismal feeling engulfs you. This is why, even to this day, grown as I am, I am always moved whenever I hear that song: “The little boy Santa Claus forgot.” Those words… “she looked at him very sad as water filled her eyes…as they stroll along the street, no shoes on his feet…” “Listen, mama, I want you to tell Santa Claus to bring a drum set and a concertina for me/ I am so lonely, I have no children nearby me/ Ma you don’t know how happy your son would be.” I get deeply sentimental, believe me. I begin to think of all the underprivileged children and poor homes and wish I had the power. Why should such a grand and joyous occasion come and leave so many in dire need? The American comedian Dick Gregory once said that when Christmas comes around and your parents have nothing to give you, it hurts; but you soon get over it. When you become a parent, however, and you cannot give your children anything, the hurt is greater – devastating. This is why we need to commend and support those who started and those who are keeping alive the Radio Needy Children’s Fund. Our society is richer and better because of them.
As I write, I can hear Christmas songs playing. When I hear ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland’ by Johnny Mathis and ‘Santa Baby’ by Eartha Kitt, I’m transported, even though I’m fully aware of how the season has become bastardised and commercialised, and in some cases just an empty show; and I know that many have turned it into a farce, devoid of its true meaning, where hustle and greed have taken the place of love and humility.
I know of the religious issue, because the season has been trampled under, and if the one in whose name all this fuss is about were to appear he would disapprove in many ways. And even though I, too, try to play it down and not be caught up in the confusion, still, every time it comes around, like it or not, it changes the rhythm and mood. There is an upbeat and heightened spirit all about; almost everyone is affected. Andy Williams got it right when he sang, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” Say what you want, “deh ain’t gat nuttin beat Christmas.”
Yours faithfully,
Frank Fyffe
