Only at Christmas Time
As I write this in late November 2020, I meditate on the fact that the word “normalcy” has probably seen an absurd jump in usage in our everyday lives. In fact – it’s what we are all searching for as we grasp to the holidays in their strange iterations this year.
I reflect on another difficult time in my life when normalcy was scarce, and my family was unsure if we would ever feel “normal” again. When my father passed away in August of 2014, my family was both overwhelmed and underprepared to the ‘nth’ degree. He had always been the nucleus of our family, and I don’t think my mother, brother, or I realized how much he held us together until he was taken from us over the course of a late-summer weekend. While he wasn’t a pillar of health, my father radiated youthful energy, and the thought of losing him prematurely never really crossed any of our minds.
That year I was still living with my family in the home I grew up in after graduating from college the year prior. My brother was about 30 minutes away and always there to support me when needed. But in my mind and heart, I felt the weight of our loss smother and fog my life as I was in the only place I truly called home with my mother, whose life had been shattered. It didn’t feel like home; it felt cold, bleak, and lonely.
We were in a state of disrepair, and between the three of us, I don’t think there was much hope inside us for finding some equilibrium and returning to normal anytime soon, if ever again.
Rewinding a bit, I have been the butt of Christmas jokes in my family for as long as I can remember. Most commonly, and known by all of my extended family, was my fiendish joy and anticipation for what might be wrapped under the tree by Santa (my father) growing up. In my late teens and twenties though, the joke shifted to how I would commandeer the 8-disc changer in our living room each holiday season and play strange covers and original songs by the “whispery-sad-folk-man,” as they called him. See, when I discovered Sufjan Steven’s music during freshman year of college, I immediately dove into his catalog, and then when I stumbled upon Songs for Christmas, it became a full-on love affair with his discography. Over the years, I shed much of my fiending for gifts and treats around the tree (but come on, who doesn’t love unwrapping a surprise?). But my obsession with the holiday was now being built around gift-giving, indulgence, and spending the highest quality time with loved ones. That truly cemented December as my favorite month of the year and something I could always look forward to.
Back to 2014 - As summer winded down and fall breezed through, my family continued to fail in finding peace. Thanksgiving in 2014 was brutal. A ton of fake smiles and hugs and promises that things would get better in time. But they didn’t – lack of a properly planned will, my mother’s broken foot, uncertainties at work (good and bad). Nothing was settled in its cozy little place as we approached the end of the year and the start of 2015. Driving back from PA to NJ after Thanksgiving dinner, I sat in the car with my family as we pretended everything was fine. I played a few Christmas classics to try and lighten the mood, and my efforts proved to have some charm. But sure enough, when I started to play my new-age favorites from Sufjan, the groans from my mother and brother started right up again, and in the moment, I felt that at least something felt normal. From that moment on I made my only goal for the remainder of the year was to make Christmas feel like Christmas – even if we were missing our version of a Santa.
The song “Only at Christmas Time” is a perfectly executed song across the board. It may not bring the prototypical joy and ‘rock around the tree’ vibe to the party, but it does remind us that we have Christmas year in and year out, and that’s something we can rely on. Just because our father was no longer here in the flesh, he could still be with us in spirit. We still heard the same jingles and carols in all of the stores we visited, we still saw the main streets and avenues transformed into their winter wonderland versions, we still got to indulge and share drinks and stories and gifts, and we still decorated the tree and listened to our Christmas music in the process.
It would be silly to say that Christmas in 2014 was the same as the years prior – but it was damn close. It was a huge step for my family in moving forward and grieving properly. It let us see hope, and for that – I am eternally grateful for Sufjan’s Christmas collection for sparking that fire for me (and my family whether they like his tunes or not).
For as wacky and unorthodox Sufjan’s Christmas catalog is, I think many of us are so drawn to it because it normalizes some of the other sides of the holiday. It normalizes loss, it normalizes the darkness we may feel, it normalizes reflecting on that which we should be grateful for, AND it normalizes all the things we may be missing that year. Of course, there is much joy and love felt in his sing-a-long original tracks, goofy lyrics, and classics covered with new playful elements - but for me, it’s the songs that remind me it’s ok to feel down around Christmas time. It’s okay to hurt. It’s ok to not be in the Christmas spirit. But never forget that each year, no matter what, we always have Christmas Time, and for me – that brings peace.
My name is Theodore Smyk. I am a consultant based in the greater Philadelphia area but still feel quite connected to Brooklyn, NY, where my wife and I “Covid-moved” from about a month ago. My life is centered around my wife, Tully (our Golden Shepard), music, food, running, and anything outdoors I can find the time to do. Sufjan has been a staple in my life for over a decade, and his Christmas music continues to be a staple in my life year in and year out. I am grateful to have this awesome platform to share my story on.