|
Honolulu Lite Charles Memminger |
On the 85th Day
of Christmas ...
I went shopping a few days before Halloween and was upset that the Christmas wrapping paper hadn't been put out in department stores yet. It's taken a while, but I'm finally used to the fact that instead of 12 days of Christmas, we now have roughly 85 days of Christmas, starting somewhere around Labor Day. I used to get upset when Christmas trees started spouting at the mall before the ghouls and goblins were put away, but now I'm on the program. I don't care if it is still officially autumn, I want to see the halls decked with balls of holly and a few partridges in pear trees thrown in for good measure. I want Santas ringing bells on sidewalks before the Thanksgiving turkey is even in the oven.But what do I get on my Christmas shopping trip before Halloween? A couple of lethargic salesgirls trying to pass off "Barney" birthday present wrapping paper as Christmas wrapping paper. I attempted to explain to them that a purple dinosaur was not one of the animals in the manger when Jesus was born, but they were already deeply engrossed in ignoring other customers.
I GOT A CALL from a reader upset that Thanksgiving has completely been shoved aside by Christmas. Stores no longer even put out Thanksgiving decorations, he complained. And he's right. When was the last time you saw a pilgrim in the mall? The only thing stores put out now for Thanksgiving are turkeys first frozen in the Kennedy administration. Supermarkets just have big old trucks dump several hundred frozen birds into the isles, stick some canned cranberry sauce and boxes of Stovetop Stuffing on the shelves, and -- there you go! -- Happy Thanksgiving.
The 85 Days of Christmas are actually in danger of being expanded further. The Kaneohe Police Station didn't even put its plywood Christmas elves display away from last year. The cops just laid the display against a wall where the little elves and whatnot stared out at passers-by with increasingly forlorn, weathered looks. Around April their smiles went from cheerful to ironic, and by July they projected the pitiful countenance of those big-eyed waifs from poor countries that you can adopt for 47 cents a day.
I'm not sure what day of Christmas we're in now. I see no maids a-milking on the driveway or geese a-laying golden rings in my hibiscus. But I'll tell you one thing, buddy, I'm ready for them this year.