We Need An Early Christmas

Recently, I read an online article that discussed the Christmas rush, if you will—how vestiges of the holiday seem to appear earlier and earlier every year, like Christmas music playing in stores all throughout November and people decorating their homes weeks before Thanksgiving. These things were pretty much unheard of when I was a kid. The author of the piece admitted to once complaining about the Christmas season commencing the day after Halloween. He has, however, thrown in the towel and gone with the flow. His reasoning makes sense to me. Bring Christmas on sooner rather than later because it’s a welcome diversion from the insanity that abounds on so many fronts in the wider world.

This morning, in fact, I encountered Christmas tree salesmen setting up shop in front of a local drug store. Believe it or not, I was actually concerned they wouldn’t turn up. Last year they were peddling trees before Thanksgiving, which was almost a week earlier than it is in 2019. Lo and behold, though, the boys are back and could be open for business as early as tomorrow.

The sellers could be the same guys from last year—I can’t be certain. Don’t know what it is about Christmas tree peddlers, but they kind of all look alike to me. First impressions are that the men in question are suitably slippery for the task at hand. Really, I have to give these folks credit, to call home for an entire, rather chilly month a plastic covered lean-to just off Broadway and only yards away from the El. I suppose the drug store is where they go when nature calls, but what about bathing? There are a couple of dive motels in the vicinity—by-the-hour, cash-only fleabags that have remarkably stood the test of time—which may have functional showers. I would, however, recommend showering with one’s shoes on and BYOT (Bring Your Own Towel).

Yes, Christmas, bring it on, because soon after it will be a new year, 2020, full of posturing and politicking. It never really ends nowadays. Former New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg just threw his expensive fedora into the ring. I voted for him three times, but tired of his Nanny State-mentality and meddling. Nevertheless, despite being quite up there in age and down there in height, I could stomach the likes of him as president. As far as billionaires go, he’s the pick of the litter.

To digress further: My father had a penchant for purposely mispronouncing people’s names, with a particular love for butchering politician’s. He called Bloomberg “Blum-berg” and Giuliani, “Ghoul-iani,” which is particularly fitting now. A ubiquitous New York pol from yesteryear, Herman Badillo, who pronounced his name “Ba-dee-yo,” was “Ba-dill-o,” which rhymes with pillow.

It’s a mad, mad, mad world we live in—annoyances flourish in places they never did before. Leaf blowers, for instance, are not only driving their fellow man and woman bananas, but doing a number on insects, too. Since so many species reproduce in clumps of earth and leaves that are now blown away with a perpetual ferocity, it makes perfect sense. Across the street from me is an apartment building with a super’s helper who parades around with his ear-splitting leaf blower every single morning, often before nine o’clock. Rather than pick them up, he blows the leaves into the street, which is against the law. And while generating this daily racket, the guy simultaneously talks on his phone. It’s nutty, but unfortunately the norm, and not good for man nor bug. So, I say once more: Bring on Christmas now!

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)