A Christmas fancy

LITTLE ROCK — Christmas is what you make it. Getting all bent out of shape about what else it is or isn’t rather misses the point, doesn’t it?

I’ve worked my way through most of the holiday’s connotations, from the commercialism to the religiosity, and settled on what for me has proved to be the one constant: goodwill toward others. Hey, it’s a lot easier than peace on earth.

I revel in all the sights and sounds and rituals of Christmas with much the same enthusiasm today as that which swept me up and sustained me for days upon days as a child. Certainly, that child has grown up and is growing old, but the world has changed, too. These days there are more ghosts than people gathered around the tree on Christmas Day, and they are welcome. And when I say my prayers, I thank God for the memories.

The history of Christmas is not unlike that of America, a melting pot, derived from two pagan sources, both celebrating the sun’s “return to health” after its shortest day. We Christians, who adopted the holiday as the anniversary of the birth of our messiah, came rather late to the celebration, at one point even criminalizing it.

But first there were the Roman emperors, who identified with the power of the sun and so celebrated the time around the winter solstice as the birthday of Sol Invictus, “the unconquered sun.” For the general population of Rome, at least those who could afford it, there was Saturnalia, a period of feasting, revelry and present-giving.

Around the same time, the folks who study that sort of thing tell us, many of the northern tribes of what we know as Europe celebrated Yule, a winter festival that lasted for 12 days and gave us the traditions of trees and mistletoe. Christmas cards and Santa Claus didn’t come along until the 19th century, long after Oliver Cromwell’s ban on “pagan” celebrations had been lifted.

Santa, of course, has many antecedents, largely European in nature, but for today’s concept, nearly universally recognized, blame the great American melting pot-with a bit of help from “A Visit From St. Nicholas” in the 19th century and Coca-Cola in the 20th.

Many of our modern touches were borrowed from the English, who in turn borrowed from various points north, south and east. Thank Queen Victoria’s German consort, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, for popularizing the Christmas tree.

If you have the intestinal fortitude, you can start with Advent, beginning on the first of the four Sundays before Christmas, and continue through Twelfth Night to the Day of Epiphany on Jan. 6, but for most of us a week or so of the holiday spirit is all our constitution can stand. In my family, the season has always lasted about two weeks, starting with putting the tree up a week or so before Christmas and taking it down on New Year’s Day, but the height of the season is still the weekend before the big day. That’s when you drag out the Perry Como records, pour yourself a cup of good cheer and spend several hours baking cookies or wrapping packages.

Have I ever made a list of New Year’s resolutions that didn’t have as its No. 1 item the vow never to buy another round Christmas gift? Only a few years ago did it occur to me why so many people give fruitcakes as Christmas presents. The round metal tins usually come packaged in a square cardboard box.

I’m one of only five people I know who like fruitcake, but over the years I’ve developed a taste for proper Christmas pudding, a rich, dark, bowl-shaped cake chock-full of fragrant spices, dried fruits, brandy and ale, and drizzled with-what else?-brandy butter, although rum

will do in a pinch. The sprig of holly on top is entirely optional, mind you, and for decoration only. As is the case with fruitcake, the prepackaged variety is not quite as tasty as that which is homemade, and one ofthese days I’m going to make one. Really.

Speaking of packaging, it never pays in my family to “ooh” and “aah” too quickly upon opening a gift. We’re recyclers from way back. I learned early in life never to yell, “Just what I wanted!” before opening the box, because what’s advertised on it may not be what’s inside.

Some of you probably found that out the hard way this morning. Here’s hoping that old DVD box didn’t contain something you really didn’t want. A fruitcake, for instance.

Associate Editor Meredith Oakley is editor of the Voices page. An earlier version of today’s column appeared on Dec. 22, 2003.