"Are you ready for Christmas?," the woman next to me asks with a frozen smile as I'm buying crispy apples at the Farmer's Market. This question starts flying at us too soon after Thanksgiving, a glorious holiday when time is suspended and we are still wearing flip-flops.
Sure, I'm ready for a holiday break and the sweet joy of grown children gathered in my kitchen. But I'm not ready for the mad whirl that this season can mean. I'm not ready to "Jingle Bell Rock."
I remind myself to breathe and embrace the third line of "Silent Night," that "all if calm, all is bright." Yet, there is an emotional cloak that darkens the brightness at this time of year when I'm remembering the blue stuffed poodle that was taller than me and my Patty Play Pal I woke up to at Christmas a lifetime ago.
I'm not ready to remember the faces of my then-young parents, now deceased, as they watched me hug my new toys with glee.
I'm working toward calm. I'm trying to stay bright. Though I'm having some pre-Christmas quivers -- I'm no Scrooge. We are Jewish and I love this season when Hanukah and Christmas collide. I revel in the singing of holiday songs, melodies that stir up memories of my childhood in Oak Park, just west of Chicago. Carolers used to serenade us on our doorstep, their faces whipped red by the blustery wind.
I love all you fat Santas with crooked beards that remind me of decades ago when my sister, brother and I would wait breathlessly in line at Marshall Field's in downtown Chicago, for our own turn on Santa's lap. I used to tell our Rabbi that Santa was for everyone -- and even looked like some pictures of Moses.
What I don't love is that December is no longer a slow trickle of magic. Black Friday unleashes a torrent of spending and stress. To avoid this state of being frantic and frayed, our family has chosen a no-gift holiday, instead donating money to each person's designated favorite charity.
We don't need any more things, nor do most people we know. What most of us need is more time with each other. We all need more love.
I know I'm not alone in feeling the frenzy. When I run into friends at the grocery store in December their eyeballs gyrate and they talk so fast I can't decipher a word. I urge them to slow down, and take five minutes to chat. They say they don't even have five seconds, and that they will be in touch after the first of the year.
New Year's? The coming of 2017? How could this be? I was just getting used to the 1980s.
Join me and stop yourself now. It's not too late to be calm and bright. Grab that holiday magic bock by refusing to get sucked into the madness. Stay home with your family and play Trivial Pursuit. Our version was made in 1989 before the Berlin Wall came down so I always beat my children, all in their 20s.
Don't scramble to find the perfect family picture. Do as we do -- send out your cards in early April when yours will not be lost in a pile.
Wear flip-flops around the house and pretend it's July. Our neighbor near the Chesapeake Bay takes out his small, wooden boat early mornings, no matter how cold or wet the weather. He parks in the fog of sunrise, as the sky is dusted with pastels, stopped in the stillness of the water. He says this routine keeps him centered "in a crazy world."
Indeed, there is chaos and craziness, with global ripples and waves that plague our minds. Stay calm by turning off the news and watch the 1954 film "White Christmas," starring Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye and Rosemary Clooney.
All can be calm and bright as we gawk at tall trees ablaze with colored lights and savor our adult kids, who for one beautiful, fleeting stretch of time are back in their childhood beds, under one roof.
Reprinted from author Iris Krasnow's hometown newspaper, the Annapolis Capital Gazette. More on her books and columns can be found on iriskrasnow.com.
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