Santa Claus Is Coming To Town
Do you remember the moment you realized Santa Claus wasn’t real? Perhaps, your parents sat you down and explained that growing up is about abandoning the traditions of finding belief in the mythical make-believe heroes of youth. Or maybe, like me, you had an older sibling who found out in their own way, and suddenly gifts stopped being addressed “From Santa,” and you recognized every Christmas special deals with the conflict of the disbelief in Santa. It’s funny how some things seem real to you until you uncover that there is a collective awareness of its disproven nature.
Still, I don’t hold it against my parents. It’s a right of passage, those rituals. Baking and decorating cookies to leave in front of the fireplace, writing letters with all our hopes and wishes sealed tightly in an envelope addressed to the north pole, singing the songs that call for his arrival, the cheesy specials on tv, noticing the shared smiles and glances among adults after they asked what you requested from Santa and not knowing what secret their eyes kept, wearing his hat to school on the last day before winter break, worrying which side of the list your name will fall under, the anticipation on the night before, waking up before the sun rises. I treasure the normalcy these experiences provided me. It was something to look forward to - a sliver of hope to grasp between the family gossip and arguing.
Tensions run so high during the holidays. November and December are months indicated by rushed shopping, scrambled plans, gift exchanges, hours spent in the kitchen, shoveling the driveway, and trying to find that kid who believed in the whimsy of Christmas even when mother had hushed words and father spent the morning in another room. This year, that kid was found. I remembered them, but I haven’t had time to listen. As of writing this, it’s December 5th, and my Beach Boys Christmas record remains unplayed. My small plastic tree is in a box stuck in my closet somewhere. Ornaments and recipes have yet to enter the scene. The only seasonal items I have out in my room are one of those seasonal depression lamps and a bottle of vitamin d supplements. I saw the first ten minutes of Gremlins on tv and caught the tail-end of Rudolph (pun intended?). I am behind. I am 17, and the world moves so fast when you are trying to find a way to enter the world of adulthood. But with the task of writing this essay on my to-do list, I gave my chosen Sufjan Christmas song a listen.
Watch what you’re doing / Always improving / He keeps his eyes on the prize of your spirit
He’s in the window / Gathering info / He keeps his eyes on the prize of your personal
Only Sufjan would think to add these lines to a classic Christmas tune. Hearing this rendition of the song reminded me that the experience of Christmas is different for everyone and that there is no one way to approach the holidays. So what if my mind is tethered to nostalgia this year? So what if my actions are focused on getting myself through the school year and into college? I am bouncing between the past and the future, but perhaps music will be my anchor to the present. I am leaving behind the themed pajamas and excessive decorations, but I will make an effort to tune into Sufjan’s alternative take on Christmas. I am allowing myself to feel joy without the pressure of tradition and schedule. I am taking on the holidays one lyric at a time.
Turning people onto Sufjan’s Christmas music is difficult. I’m not one to share interests loudly; I enter phases with the knowledge that I am most likely just passing through. Sometimes you know your audience – it’s best to keep it to yourself. However, I am stubborn about Christmas music. I want to sit my friends down and make them listen to “River” by Joni Mitchell and “Remember (Christmas)” by Harry Nilsson. These untraditional, original compositions suit my soul, dressing in the comfort of a warm winter coat and a pair of mittens while the storm rages on, demanding for a return to bed, cracked lips, and a heart two sizes too small. Sufjan’s Christmas tunes are statement pieces. You either embrace them or turn your back in discomfort. I remember my sister commenting, “they aren’t for everyone,” with stifled laughter. I don’t understand why some find unease in the bombastic instrumentals or the re-interpreted perspectives Sufjan offers. Fundamentally, this scenario reveals the same question I’ve been chasing my entire life: “Why can’t people see what I see?”
There is a loneliness beyond the usual holiday anxiety. An individual’s indifference to spectacle and unwelcomed tradition is usually made the crux of those specials on TV. They’re someone who has to be won over at all costs. The Grinch, Tim Allen, and me. Not exactly good company, but what else is there to say? Is it really so bad if someone wants to stay home? What is accomplished by ordinance? A child kicking their feet, pets clawing out of their themed sweaters, and the neighbor whose house only bears a wreath instead of a yard full of inflatable copyrighted characters. This year I’ve tried to exercise my independent spirit by issuing a vocal protest, but my boundary is routinely shot down with “sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do.” My counterargument (in the words of the titular Jim Croce song): It doesn’t have to be that way. I am not anti-tradition. There are many things I love to partake in, both with company and alone. Certain movies, events, and songs are a fixture in my life, and there is no performance in my enjoyment of them. However, if some traditions result in passive-aggressive remarks and a general haze of distaste, then it makes sense to do away with them.
My point is this: if we can move on from Santa and recognize when someone has outgrown the implications of holiday magic, then why is it so difficult to withdraw participation in family events and social gatherings? Part of growing up is realizing your own character, and in turn, recognizing which types of people you don’t want to feature in your company. Isn’t an absence better than forced participation? A prior obligation over standoffishness? I’m running out of words to say. I feel like my argument has been heard over and over, and yet, what am I doing to finalize it? A stance must be taken. Regardless of my anxiety over ruffling feathers and trying out a teenage rebellion I never partook in, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and a decision must be made. So perhaps I’ll bring down that box from the closet. Garland and tinsel will find their place in my room, a fake plastic tree will be dressed up, and I’ll play my melancholy songs for winter and its holidays. Still and all, there might be an empty chair in my place at Christmas Eve dinner, and I’ll instead find my way to good company.
Kaycie is a high school senior and aspiring writer. You can find them on Instagram at @boyishblues.