Surviving that 'most wonderful time of the year'

The holiday season is, as the song says, “the most wonderful time of year,” but let's face it; it's pretty crazy, too. Marketing and promotion began before Halloween and things ramped up significantly after Remembrance Day. Initially there was the odd jingle; a brief reminder that Christmas was coming and we should plan early to avoid the rush. Funny how a trickle can become a tsunami. Now you can't go anywhere without the iconic commercial symbolism of the season: pseudo-Santas hawking goods straight from the workshop at the North Pole; prices at never-before-seen discounts; ribbons, bows, cards and parcels stacked like cordwood at the post office. And no matter how organized we are, we never seem to box up or parcel that special something for family living away and get it sent on time. There’s always one last item to be included and the package rarely gets taped shut until final notices and deadlines loom as large as Kris Kringle’s tummy on the big day. Indeed, if it's not the hustle and bustle of Commercial Street right now and traffic backed up to Kingdom come it’s the peaceful warmth and affection of little children in the quiet of your own home declaring every couple of minutes a wish list that would put St. Nick in traction should he ever attempt to shoulder such an onerous load. TV is a complicating factor because every second ad is for a toy or tech device. I hesitate to use the word ‘bombardment,’ but I think it describes perfectly the persistence of commercials and the correlative frequency of the kids’ requests. It’d be fine if there were any consistency to them, but their hearts’ desire is all over the map and changes as quickly as the channel. First it’s one thing because it’s “so-o-o-o-o cool” then another because so-and-so has one. Now that's a compelling argument for a shopping trip. Don’t get me wrong. I love the holidays and Christmas is easily the coolest time of year. But it’s not without risk. Menacing throngs jockeying for that last sale item at Midnight Madness are one thing. Then there’s the danger associated with standing on a rooftop attaching brightly coloured lights when a wind is blowing, someone is tugging on the strand below and the ladder has somehow shifted -- which it always does the minute your foot leaves the top rung. I’m not great with heights and I think sometimes it’d be better if we just put those plug-in candles in the window and left it at that. No ladder, no wind, no threat to life and limb. Yes, indeed, a most wonderful time of year, brimming with energy, excitement and youthful imaginings. It’s astounding we manage to survive it, but we always do. And as dizzying as it has been and will be in the ensuing days, we're nearly in the home stretch. Wow! Good thing, too. Because in about another 365 days, after sufficient time to catch our collective breath, we’ll do it all over again, happily, gleefully, joyfully. Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!