I really like Christmas. I enjoy giving gifts.
I’m okay with decorating. I
don’t mind shopping. Well, I mind
the hassle a little. I tolerate
the lack of easy parking. I don’t
like the cold.
But what I hate, really hate, is that while we shop we can’t
avoid hearing the same sugary renditions of the same, painfully familiar, irritatingly
vanilla, relentless Christmas songs we all heard as children, repeated over and
over in every mall, market, and Mart.
We hear them every year, as kids, as teenagers, then as
young adults, and now as not so young adults.
Those songs are the meat and bones of the saying:
Familiarity breeds contempt.
The audible onslaught starts well before Black Friday and
relentlessly pursues us through New Year’s Eve.
It feels to me like what the Germans must have felt as the
Russians drove them out of Russia that terrible winter of 1944. No relief, no mercy, no respite from
the misery.
Yeah, I know, that’s way over the top. Our feet aren’t wrapped in rags.
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