Hello, Juneau!
Iiiiiiiiiiiit’s Christmas time! Get the garlands! Dust off your Josh Groban Spotify channel! Try to navigate the ever-tightening corridors of Fred Meyer as they fill with soaring spires of seasonal sales! That’s right, no matter what or how you celebrate, get ready for Mariah Carey, tiny plastic things that only see the light of day once a year, and basically the ubiquitous wafting scent of everything nostalgic, especially if it’s from the baby-boomer era. Time for needlessly melismatic hymns and your neighbors throwing up an escalating series of inflatable sculptures on the lawn, like some sort of Disney-licensed holiday cold war. Time for all things cozy (or hygge, as the kids are calling it these days), things like Swiss Miss and extra blankets, things like mittens and wool socks, or even just a fluffy insulating comforter of snow all over our windows.
Or maybe just a lot of rain. Who knows, maybe by the time this goes to print it’ll be a white Christmas again, but by the time I’m writing this … well, you know what it’s like. I’m practically going to have to shovel the water out of the way to get to the car in the morning. Seriously. Anybody got a number for Moses? I’ve got a crisp 20 if that guy wants to give my yard a go.
So anyway. Back to Christmas. You know that whole giving thing? You know, not just presents but holiday-themed charity drives, collections, and those Salvation Army bells, scientifically engineered to drive the giving spirit into your head like a candy-cane-striped ball-peen hammer. I’d like to think end-of year tax deductions are not the only reason for that “giving spirit of Christmas.” And I think I have a pretty good reason. You see, for those of us outside of the tropics, all across history, from fourth century Gaul villages shivering over a burning spruce bough deep in the black forest to some polyester-fleece-coated shoppers trying to find parking in a Starbucks-saturated American downtown, we all know one thing about this time of year: it’s no fun!
Now wait a minute! I’m not Grinching on the holidays, or snowsports. You can put down the pitchforks and the ski poles. I really mean this “time of year.” I mean this solstice-nearing, dark-all-the-time, snowy, frozen, hard-to-travel, need-a-big-warm-jacket time of year. The I-should-have-prepared-better-in-the-summer time of year. The time of year where you’ll buy a whole coffee just to keep your hands warm (or at least put on the kettle).
I say it’s no fun because it’s inherently difficult, even if for no other reason than the season and the weather. And it’s during times of relative difficulty that we recognize most our need for some assistance. And the harder your life is in the summer, it gets harder around winter solstice by magnitudes. Have no car in the summer? No problem! Take a walk! Bike! Have no car in the winter? Hope you have a warm pair of mittens and a bus pass. Have trouble paying your bills in the summer? Oh, just wait till you get a look at your December gas and electric bills. You get the picture.
This difficult time of year comes around and we start to realize just how much we appreciate a little kindness now and then. So we reach out, all at the same time, with a little something nice in our right hand for our neighbor, hoping somebody will put something in our left. And often, they do! Of course, it helps that there’s a slew of religious holidays all at the same time. But nonetheless, this season is one where everybody needs a little something, and some bodies need a lot of things.
Alaskans know all about the need for community, or at the very least, society, to survive. A lot of people came to Alaska on the pretense of rugged individualism, or a pioneering spirit, but for the most part, only those that used the existing network, infrastructure, and support of other people are still around.
And that’s the other thing about “this time of year.” It’s not just the darkest, coldest (or wettest), it’s also the time of year when the days start getting longer again. It’s when the skiing starts, and when we’ve remembered how to drive on ice. So really it is a pretty hopeful time of year. Because we’re reminded that when it all freezes up, and when it all boils down, whether we like it or not, we need each other.
• “Guy About Town” is a column about seasonal musings on what changes and what doesn’t in a small town. Guy can be reached at unzicker.music@gmail.com.
