Editorial
The True Meaning of Christmas
by Tom Vartabedian
What is Christmas?
Christmas is many things to many people. But to some, It is nothing at all because poverty and ignorance — or both — prevent them from celebrating this most blessed of holidays.
What is Christmas to me? It is hard to describe, so maybe we had better jot down a few thoughts at random. It comes out like this.
Christmas is a time for decorating your home with bright-colored lights and tucking those precious gifts under the tree, then making sure all the doors are locked.
Christmas is watching children open those beautiful cards the mail carrier brings and shaking each one before reading it, looking for the dollar bill.
It is a time when business districts ring your head dizzy with carols, but only during store hours. Owners claim holiday music puts you in the mood to shop. I’ve yet to acquire that feeling.
Christmas is sending “Season’s Greetings” to all your friends, then dashing out two days before to buy another dozen cards to answer those that arrived to your house late.
Over the years, Christmas has meant huddling over a foxhole in some Godforsaken corner of the world and reading a letter from home — which complains that fuel costs took another hike and the nation’s economy just plummeted.
It is walking through the Holy Land on a starlit night, much like the one Jesus was born on, in a stable — and grumbling about the weight of a rifle and ammunition on your shoulder.
Christmas is a tree decorated with popcorn balls and blinking lights, peppermint sticks and tinsel — a tree that cost $5 more this year than last.
It is passing a little old man on a darkened street and asking yourself a minute later why you didn’t wish him a Merry Christmas.
Christmas is working a picket line in the snow and cold and worrying whether or not you’ll still have a job in the coming year as the employment picture turns grim.
It is a comfortable bed and a warm blanket — and the tear on a soldier’s pillow in Iraq as he thinks of home.
Unfortunately, Christmas is a new national record for highway deaths. It is a time when we stock up on turkey’ n fixings at a festive table setting, then rush for the antacid at 2 a.m.
It is another pair of woolen socks from your mother-in-law, which she has been giving you ever since she found out you were allergic to wool.
It is your daughter asking Santa for an $80 American Girl doll and you wanting to punch his big red nose when he says she’ll get it, despite the fact you’re broke.
Christmas is getting a nifty-looking green tie with red polka dots from a friend, then remembering it is the same one you gave him a year ago.
It is a hockey stick that winds up being broken on that very first slap shot — and a saucer sliding down that steep hill with you and the kids in the middle as your bursitis suddenly appears.
Christmas is shaking the hand of a companion and knowing he’s a true friend and not just some acquaintance.
It is watching your son shovel out an elderly neighbor’s walk, then sneaking away so he won’t know who did it.
Christmas is a cease-fire on the battlefield of any nation that wants to call itself civilized and a truce in the everyday war of life.
It is opening a box of chocolates and discovering they’re all softcenters — your favorite.
Christmas is putting the little guy to bed, then laying out the toys hidden in the attic for a month. It happens to be the great midnight taste of cookies and milk you put out for “Santa.”
It is a very ordinary church choir putting its best voices forward during a service and pumpkin pie with whipped cream that doesn’t come from a can.
Christmas is opening a late piece of mail and finding out there’s been a mistake and the department store owes you $20.
It is the boss on Christmas Eve saying to the office crew, “Have a happy holiday everyone!” But no one dares to leave at noon because he couldn’t get the bonus checks processed in time.
Christmas is the love of family — and strength against whatever bad times may come down the pike.
It is chocolate-smeared little hands creeping into yours and saying, “Thanks Dad, thanks Mom. I love you both.”
Putting it all into perspective, Christmas is many wonderful things to wonderful people, some commercial, yes, but the one-day, 24-hour feeling it brings all over the world that far outweighs phony tinsel, the buying and the bills.
It is singing Hayr Mer at a special service and getting a handmade Christmas card made in Armenian School with a picture of Mount Ararat.
It is a youngster giving you an Armenian greeting and another celebration that falls on January 6. With a granddaughter born on Armenian Christmas Eve, it could mean three times the giving.
It is a Genocide survivor in some rest home that may dwell upon the Christmases celebrated in the homeland. Give them a special blessing because they’re so precious and few.
We could plant a tree in Armenia for someone special or sponsor a child in the homeland. We could get our own families more involved in the Armenian community, pledge ourselves to an Armenian church, and take on a charity in Armenia.
Often, the best gifts we receive come from those who have nothing to give but themselves. As Christmas arrives this year, let us count our blessings, or even better, make other people’s blessings count.
All you really need is a little presence of mind — and not presents in mind.
The young say it is “swift.” Adults may bemoan the fact it creeps by too slowly. But it is the one time that words do not matter. It is Christmas and there’s no other word like it, folks: Cheers!