Eight Crazy Nights

Yesterday was the first day of Chanukah festival of lights and though I am not Jewish, I appreciate the miracle and hope those eight lights represent. Just as Christmas is a miracle to Christians, the Festival of lights is recognition of the miracles and hope of God. Christmas has always been a mixed bag of dynamics for me: Emotionally, spiritually, psychologically and physically. Lately, I have had to grasp at my faith as though grabbing feathers in a tornado. Emotionally, I waver between the joy of what this season and all its traditions brings to the sorrow of missing loved ones passed, the grief my dysfunctional family sows upon me and the frustration at being nickel and dimed to death for every basic living need, in addition to the added cost of Christmas. My health takes a toll as colds, flu and other fabulous illnesses circle me like the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz.

It was difficult to embrace the joy of baking our traditional fudge with my children as I worried over the cost of ingredients. I have a great job, get paid well for doing something inconsequential and I still come up short…then I feel enormous empathy for those without income. This year before the Christmas break, the schools were all about charity which is great, unless technically, we could qualify. Because of karma, I purchased two gifts for make-a-wish children, just so not to piss off the higher powers. My sons class adopted a soldier, so I had to buy Costco-sized Tylenol and gum. My daughter has six teachers which adds up to six presents. By the time I was able to shop for my family’s gifts, I had twenty-two dollars left. I find it a struggle to be gleeful when wrapping my kids presents, concerned that I couldn’t get them this, that or the other this year because of finances. Elation should be my mindset since my kids are not greedy kids at all, in fact they have told me that they really don’t want or need anything for Christmas. As my very poignant 15-year-old pointed out, “Mom, it’s silly really. All that stuff is not the reason for Christmas. Why do the stores think that adding a few snowflakes, Christmas songs and puppies in their commercials make the ordinary stuff we use every day, look special for Christmas?” Amen sister. I should feel pride and relief that my kid feels this way; instead I feel even more guilt. Shouldn’t a kid like that, get everything she deserves? Battling my third cold this season didn't get me in the mood for a Merry Christmas and I was snippy towards my kids as lack of R.E.M and a head full of snot gave me a bitter scrooge face. Bah Humbug, indeed!

Add to that my compiling sense of doom as the day approaches when we have to pack in eight Christmases in five days to accommodate all our dysfunctional relatives. This includes inconveniencing me and my kids so we won’t “interrupt” my pedophile relative’s household. Grandma will meet us in the mall, so the pedophile can channel surf, comfy in his house. The apple didn’t fall from the tree and my dear kids, (like me), detest shopping. This will be a real piece of joy. Whatever. Wish I still drank. Every Christmas, I make the same wish, sending up to God, Santa and even the Easter bunny a distress signal: I wish we could just jump on a cruise and forget the whole thing. Alas there-in lies the rub, the ghost of finances past, present and future. So I continue this game of going through the motions of Christmas.


Like most families we decorated for Christmas. Since we were going to be gone, it was a majority vote in our house to forgo the tree. We have twenty-two years of Christmas anthology attached to every piece: Snowman pillows I won at a bunko game (before I was kicked out, story to follow), Icicles made of fiberglass we got at a shop in Monterrey, our door wreath I got a the dollar tree our first Christmas, advent candles we’ve made on the beaches of both Bodega and San Simeon and mismatched ornaments. Even though we voted on the absence of a tree, I managed to unpack a few ornaments and hang them about the house. There I was, innocently singing along to Chipmunks Christmas when I came across Sylvia’s spiders. Sylvia had made intricate crystal beaded spider ornaments and enjoyed entrancing my kids every year with the story behind the spiders. She lost her battle to breast cancer two years ago. http://www.sandbenders.demon.co.uk/gallery/chrspid.htm

Just as Alvin reached the line of “Hoola-hoop,”all I could do at this point was cry at missing my friend and what a miracle she truly was. Sylvia accepted me. We were polar opposites, yet she and I loved each other and embraced our differences. When one stops and think how many true friends one has, one can come to the conclusion that those friendships are indeed miracles. I am convinced that God puts people in our lives. We are all so diverse. It takes a certain personality, ego, chemistry and mood to be true friends with someone. I’ve met a lot of people I’ve liked, right from the start, but few I've befriended. True friends just accept you, walk with you, don't try and change or mold you into what they believe is right. They are just your friends.

Tonight, as I said goodbye to another friend, Valerie, destined to be another best friend had we more time together, I counted my blessing in knowing her. Though we’d only known each other a short time at work, it was clear that we clicked and our acquaintance graduated to a fast friendship: I will miss our paperclip wars, La Comida payday lunches, arbitrary giggling, movies and confidences. Valerie just accepted me. Valerie had the nerve to abandon our blossoming friendship to fall in love, make wedding plans and will move out of California. After an all too brief afternoon of shopping, eating and a movie it was time to say a tearful goodbye. As we hugged a million times in the drizzling parking lot, my faith was gradually restored. And, as I drove out of the parking lot, watching her car disappear for the very last time, Adam Sandler's song about Chanukah came on. I began to see with new eyes, the miracles of this season. It was a miracle to get my job, it was an amazing miracle to have met and befriend such a fantastic person like Valerie and I am hopeful that this technology will keep us in arbitrary giggling heaven. Knowing this, I can put away my bitter scrooge face and brave the weird Christmas I will embark upon. I can enjoy the miracle and hope of this season. May you enjoy the eight crazy nights of the Festival of lights or your Merry Christmas and God Bless us, everyone!

©All Rights Reserved, Anne Wycoff December 2008