Birthdays etc

I hate one day in the year : my birthday.

.

I can understand that my sainted parents wanted to celebrate it, but I see no reason for me to do so, and most certainly not my 67th one. Of course, it is nice to have come so far, but most parts of the machinery are getting rusty, or more or less deficient, and Alzheimer (or worse) becomes a none too distant possibility. No, my birthday was not today but a short while ago - so do not get any ideas - and I can now forget about it for another year.

.

On my birthday, I do not answer my phone or mails, and I do not open my birthday cards, but people simply don't want to understand. I'm sure some think I am a goner already - good for the coockoo's nest. Those who know me better blame it on my "contrarian" character.

.

One single and heartfelt remark : neither my father nor his father lived as long as I have lived up to now : both died in their 67th year. When I compare their accomplishments with mine, I feel very humble indeed. They truly were giants amongst men.

***

And then there is a period in the year I hate with a passion : from December 15 to January 15. The season of unadulterated hypocrisy and terrible schmalzy sentiment, which has lost all contact with its cultural and religious roots.

.

I loved the Christmasses of my youth : they had meaning. A small, self made stable or grotto with Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. No ox or donkey, no shepherds, no angels, no Magii (too expensive). No Christmas tree or other decoration, no presents : those were given on New Year's day. Maybe a good family dinner close to the glowing red stove (no central heating), no TV (which started in 1953). A brisk walk to Midnight Mass through the crisp cold. No snow : I do not remember a single White Christmas in my young years. And my first five Christmasses were celebrated during the second world war, which gave them that more meaning and hope for a better future, not that I was old enough to understand that.

.
Now : frenetic, feverish preparations leading to bacchanalia in almost every home, at least if the people living there can afford it - very often even when they can't ; the present-buying fever in overfilled and overheated shops and malls with the eternal jingles in one's ears. The unwritten law requiring one to keep up with the Joneses or better them. And last, but not least : Father Christmas - my **s - an invention of Coca Cola who pushed good Saint Nicholas (December 6) off his throne.

.

On the day : peace on earth for all people of good will, and the knife in the back the next day.

.

But I have found a solution to the problem. I retire to a safe haven where, surprisingly, most of the commercialism and schmalz falls away. It is my well kept secret. Maybe I will share it with you in the New Year, but don' count on it !

.

And don't let me stop you : enjoy the season ! I'm not jealous, not for that anyway !