CHRISTMAS CHEER by Maureen McMahon

What’s happened to Christmas cheer? Christmas and New Year have now come and gone. Why is it they seem to come around so quickly as we get older, yet take forever to come around when we’re young? I remember sneaking down the stairs at night on Christmas Eve to gaze in awe at the piles of wrapped boxes. There was a golden glow, with the snow in the deep black of night beyond the windows, and only the tree-lights shining. It was magical.

Here in Australia the feel is different. It’s hot, to start, and usually green. The gifts are very different. No sleds, mittens or electric blankets, but beach balls, surfboards and air conditioners.

This year, due to unprecedented drought conditions, there was no green – only the yellow, brown and cream of dead vegetation and the reddish-pink dust. Most of the trees, bar gums and pines, are leafless skeletons. Bushes and shrubs are stripped and bare. The irony of a red-coated-fur-trimmed, bearded, booted, fat man in a sleigh landing on our searing-hot roof to come down a chimney is ludicrous. But Australia hasn’t changed the picture of Santa. They’ve stuck tenaciously to his traditional northern climate image.

Christmas has come and gone, now, and I still wonder about the Christmas cheer. Why is Sanda always saying ‘Ho, ho, ho!”? Doesn’t he realize what a huge amount of work he has to put in each and every December?

I succumbed to my usual last minute panic over gifts, money, time etc. I ranted about having to write the annual newsletter for cards, plan the meals, schedule the events etc. etc. But I also discovered having adult children can be handy. While they don’t patter down the hall and gasp in awe at the delights under the tree anymore, they’re great in a perceived crisis, and will take charge of many responsibilities previously left up to me. Of course, when they pat me on the shoulder and say: “Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll get the dinner.” and “Mum, it’s okay, I’ll help with the cards.” and “Dad and I can go find a tree.” I know I should feel relief and blissful relaxation. Instead, I feel a sinking sense of redundancy, and dissolve into tears babbling that the ‘magic of Christmas’ is gone.

So, perhaps Christmas cheer is all a state of mind. Perhaps if I turn off my automatic worry button, put my mind on cruise control and take deep breaths while droning ‘Ohhhmmmmmmmmm”, Christmas will change back to the magical holiday of my youth. Or perhaps I should simply take up drinking and hope my liver survives.What’s happened to Christmas cheer? Christmas and New Year have now come and gone. Why is it they seem to come around so quickly as we get older, yet take forever to come around when we’re young? I remember sneaking down the stairs at night on Christmas Eve to gaze in awe at the piles of wrapped boxes. There was a golden glow, with the snow in the deep black of night beyond the windows, and only the tree-lights shining. It was magical.

Here in Australia the feel is different. It’s hot, to start, and usually green. The gifts are very different. No sleds, mittens or electric blankets, but beach balls, surfboards and air conditioners.

This year, due to unprecedented drought conditions, there was no green – only the yellow, brown and cream of dead vegetation and the reddish-pink dust. Most of the trees, bar gums and pines, are leafless skeletons. Bushes and shrubs are stripped and bare. The irony of a red-coated-fur-trimmed, bearded, booted, fat man in a sleigh landing on our searing-hot roof to come down a chimney is ludicrous. But Australia hasn’t changed the picture of Santa. They’ve stuck tenaciously to his traditional northern climate image.

Christmas has come and gone, now, and I still wonder about the Christmas cheer. Why is Sanda always saying ‘Ho, ho, ho!”? Doesn’t he realize what a huge amount of work he has to put in each and every December?

I succumbed to my usual last minute panic over gifts, money, time etc. I ranted about having to write the annual newsletter for cards, plan the meals, schedule the events etc. etc. But I also discovered having adult children can be handy. While they don’t patter down the hall and gasp in awe at the delights under the tree anymore, they’re great in a perceived crisis, and will take charge of many responsibilities previously left up to me. Of course, when they pat me on the shoulder and say: “Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll get the dinner.” and “Mum, it’s okay, I’ll help with the cards.” and “Dad and I can go find a tree.” I know I should feel relief and blissful relaxation. Instead, I feel a sinking sense of redundancy, and dissolve into tears babbling that the ‘magic of Christmas’ is gone.

So, perhaps Christmas cheer is all a state of mind. Perhaps if I turn off my automatic worry button, put my mind on cruise control and take deep breaths while droning ‘Ohhhmmmmmmmmm”, Christmas will change back to the magical holiday of my youth. Or perhaps I should simply take up drinking and hope my liver survives.