I grew up in the 1980s to parents whose social consciousness made Christmas a loving chore. December meant travelling to the economically struggling homesteads to give away every single possession we had carried to extended family members, who were not shy about taking things like underwear and toothbrushes. It meant jiggers, dodging drunk uncles and sitting through interminable midnight masses, where those same drunk uncles would shout disruptive retorts at the priest.
Of course, I grew up to be an agnostic. Christmas became commercial by the 1990s, which irritated me and, by the 2000s, I was an experienced Grinch. Agnosticism is very good for this. People try to fight atheists whereas agnostics get left alone because we are confusingly apathetic or we happily purport to accept everything as a possible truth. This has enabled me to endure the Christmas “cheer” while waiting for the bacchanal of New Year’s, which is the true celebration. Another calendar year done.
