It’s always a wonderful time to be able to settle down by the fire, enjoy the Christmas tree and the decorations, and just spend time with the ones you love and surround yourself with the people that you don’t get to see enough throughout the year.
When I was young, we always went to our posh cousins at Christmas. My dad made sure we had new shoes and clean clothes – he was really proud – and that’s why I felt different from everyone living around me. We had the first television on the estate, the first fridge.
Our many different cultures notwithstanding, there’s something about the holidays that makes the planet communal. Even nations that do not celebrate Christmas can’t help but be caught up in the collective spirit of their neighbors, as twinkling lights dot the landscape and carols fill the air. It’s an inspiring time of the year.
Most people think to make green bean casserole around Thanksgiving and Christmas, but honestly, I make this dish more during the summer, when green beans can be found fresh at the market. I think it is the perfect meal when served with crusty bread, a bountiful salad, and a cup or two of wine.
My mother, she had a very good attitude toward money. I’m very grateful for the fact that we had to learn to save. I used to get like 50 pence a week, and I’d save it for like five months. And then I’d spend it on Christmas presents. I’d save up like eight pounds. It’s nothing, but we did that.
We’re raising our girls to understand the real meaning of Christmas, and to know that it’s most important to have Christmas in your heart. We go to our local mall and donate toys, and we say prayers for all the people in the world who might not be as lucky as we are.
We got to the moon on Christmas Eve 1968, at the end of a poor year for this country. We had Vietnam. We had civil unrest. We had the assassinations of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King. But we went around the moon and saw the far side for the first time. A script writer couldn’t have done a better job of raising people’s hope.
I’ve been giving back since I was a teen, handing out turkeys at Thanksgiving and handing out toys at toys drives for Christmas. It’s very important to give back as a youth. It’s as simple as helping an old lady across the street or giving up your seat on the bus for someone who is pregnant.
I was one of six children, brought up by my mother in Swindon after my father died. We had all we needed – food on the table, clothes to wear. When I wanted a drum kit, my mother got me one. When I got into playing guitar, I came down one Christmas or birthday and there was a guitar for me. It amazes me how Mum managed to do it.
Whether it is a garden gnome, the sound of Bing Crosby launching into ‘White Christmas’, the blinking innocent eyes of Bambi or the words of Patience Strong, the kitsch phenomenon is there as strong and recognisable as your mother’s face. You seldom if ever have the question, whether this is kitsch or not. If you think it might be, then it is.
There’s a new holiday tradition in my life, and it comes with an open door policy. Starting at 11 a.m. on Christmas Day, friends, family, whoever, is welcome to swing on through my place – I’ll be cooking and drinking from morning till night.
‘Joker’ was a violent, dark, and brutal book, so I wanted to do something a little less heavy. I played around with the idea of a children’s book, and that eventually became ‘Noel.’ And I just kept finding these parallels between things I could do with Batman and Charles Dickens’ ‘A Christmas Carol.’
My Barbies were usually naked. Once, I took their heads off, cut their hair, drew on their short, spiky hair with some markers, then stuck the heads on Christmas lights. Every year, we’d string our tree with those Barbie heads. It looked demonic. My parents were so cool – they saw it as a form of self-expression.
My first job, 9 years old, part-time, was selling Christmas cards door-to-door. Ten years old, my brother and I had paper routes. We delivered a morning paper called the ‘L.A. Examiner.’ Get up at 4 o’clock, fold your papers, deliver them and get ready for school.
I’m one of those people who had Christmas and my birthday always combined, and generally, my birthday was pretty much ignored. But my parents are always good about making some kind of special effort to make me feel like I also have a birthday that exists.
I can’t tell you how scary it can be walking onto a movie and suddenly joining this family, it’s like going to somebody else’s Christmas dinner, everyone knows everyone, and you’re there and you’re not quite sure what you’re supposed to be doing.
Teachers complain a lot about how tough their job is. But, you know, the day begins in most schools at nine o’clock, ends at 3.30 P.M. They have six weeks’ holiday during the summer, two weeks’ holiday at Easter and at Christmas. Yes, they don’t just work when they’re at school, but even so, compared to a lot of other jobs, it’s not that tough.
For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival. I was convinced that the woods were calling me. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don’t live in the woods by myself by the time I’m 25, I have failed.
One Christmas, Dennis Dermody, the movie critic of ‘Paper,’ gave me ‘Rock Hudson: A Gathering of Friends,’ the master invitation list from Rock Hudson’s memorial service. It’s so great. Everyone’s in it, with personal addresses all bound into a book. Someone else once gave me Ike Turner’s will. I get great stuff.
I wanted a song my 6-year-old niece could listen to in the car. ‘Everyday is Christmas’ sounds like a sweet sentiment, but in reality if every day were actually Christmas it would be a candy cane-riddled hellscape from which the human race could never awaken. So we’re lucky it is just a lighthearted Christmas tune.
I picked up the guitar at 12 yrs old – basically, my mother and father bought it for me for Christmas. I played one at my friend’s house; when I say played it, I just played around with it at my friend’s house. It just struck me as something I really wanted.
What I’m not saying is that all government spending is bad. It’s not – far, far from it, but there is no free lunch, as a former colleague of mine used to say. There is no public tooth fairy. Father Christmas does not work on the Treasury staff this year. You can never bail someone out of trouble without putting someone else into trouble.
The loneliest ebb of my life came on that Christmas eve, only one day after my arrival in New York. The abyss of loneliness. I ate a solitary dinner in a small cafe, and the very food tasted bitter with my unshed tears. One doesn’t dare cry in America. It is unmanly here.
Like the Earth, the Web is a less appealing place than it used to be. If I want attitude and arguing and meanness and profanity and wrong information screamed at me as gospel, I’ll get in a time machine and spend Christmas with my family in 1977.
We have a host of English teachers in the family. My mum is an English teacher, and so are my dad, my aunt and my uncle. I have grown up with family writing competitions, and I can’t remember a birthday or Christmas present that didn’t include books.
