Back in college a ditsy girl was quizzing a Jewish friend about Christmas.
"But, like, don't you do SOMETHING for Christmas?" the ditz asked.
"Yes, I do," said my Jewish pal. "I fly, like all other Jews fly. We get on airplanes and go somewhere and it is so fabulous because no one else is flying and there is plenty of room to stretch out. We call it Jewish Flying Day."
I thought that was hilarious and a great story, but Ditsy wasn't going to give up.
"But you celebrate, right?"
My friend fixed her with a razor gaze.
"I. Do. Not. Know. How. I. Can. Convey. To. You. How. Little. Christmas. Means. To. Me." she said, in a tone that let Miss Ditz know that she had better shut up.
The weird part is that I feel the same way. I don't know how I ended up so curmudgeonly, but if someone announced that Christmas was cancelled this year, my only question would be "So do we still get a long weekend?"
The only reason I do any traditional things at all is to fit in with other people. Other than that, I do not care.
To change the subject from my freakish musings, here is a question: What is your favorite Christmas carol?
Mine? O Holy Night.