December used to be very difficult for me. For many years, I fought the transition to the new year, was generally exhausted at the end of the year, and just wanted to hide. I described myself as a ‘cranky Jewish kid who felt left out by Christmas.’
Every product you have ever loved was a compromise from the ideal vision of its creators to the realities of shipping on time, on budget, and on price point. Anyone who has ever manufactured a physical product that had to be on the shelves for Christmas shopping knows how painful these choices can be.
For me, the two weeks between Christmas and Twelfth Night have come to be reserved for desultory reading. The pressure of the holiday is over, the weather outside is frightful, there are lots of leftovers to munch on, vacation hours are being used up.
A show like the ‘Only Fool and Horses’ Christmas special got 24 million viewers, so practically everyone in the country was watching. But of course it’s a different world now, with so many channels. And those kind of figures are really difficult to achieve.
It always depresses me when people moan about how commercial Christmas is. I love everything about it. The tradition of having this great big feast, slap bang in the middle of winter, is an essential thing to look forward to at the end of the year.
Back when we was in school in Mississippi, we had Little Black Sambo. That’s what you learned: Anytime something was not good, or anytime something was bad in some kinda way, it had to be called black. Like, you had Black Monday, Black Friday, black sheep… Of course, everything else, all the good stuff, is white. White Christmas and such.
When I was eight years old, I got a dummy for Christmas and started teaching myself. I got books and records and sat in front of the bathroom mirror, practising. I did my first show in the third grade and just kept going; there was no reason to quit.
I started making music… I guess I was 12, and I started playing ‘Guitar Hero.’ And you know, it got to a point where on expert, you can only exceed to a certain point. And so, you know, I was like, ‘Let’s play real guitar. Let’s not waste more time.’ So, I got my mom, I told her to buy me a guitar for Christmas, and I started making music then.
My mother was a professional sick person; she took a lot of pain pills. There are many people like that. It’s just how they are used to getting attention. I always remember she’s the daughter of alcoholics who’d leave her alone at Christmas time.
Mums and dads, if you’ve bought something that needs putting together, do it before Christmas. When the kids have gone to bed, do a little bit every night. Then on Christmas morning, they can actually play, rather than standing over your shoulder, saying: ‘Is it done yet?’
I’m well-travelled so I can see places coming up. I went to St. Croix in the West Indies at Christmas and it had been hit by a really bad tornado. Values there have gone down but I guarantee they will be up again in eight years. So I’ll get in now while it’s cheap as chips.
Some of my favorite records growing up were Christmas albums. The ones I liked best were the albums that you could listen to from start to finish. You could put them on while you’re decorating the tree or driving around looking at Christmas lights.
My daughter is 15. None of her friends know who the hell Chris Rea is, but they know that song – as soon as it comes on, they start singing it. I’ve played with everyone from Status Quo to Talk Talk, but nothing impresses them as much as the fact that I play on ‘Driving Home for Christmas.’
Miramax seems to be showing the same faith in Roberto Benigni’s ‘Pinocchio’ that the Republican Party showed in Trent Lott; the live-action version of Carlo Collodi’s fairy tale about the wooden puppet whose only ambition was to be a real live boy was sneaked into theaters Christmas Day.
We used to indulge hopelessly as a family at Christmas. When the children were little, I dressed up as Father Christmas. They knew it was a gag, but they loved it. I remember stealing into their bedrooms at 1 A.M. and filling the stockings up at the end of the bed.
Almost any American can connect on some level to a family background of having come across some ocean. They say, ‘My great-grandparents came from wherever… this is why we have this last name, why we do this thing at Christmas.’ All the details get watered down but don’t quite disappear.
I had always sung in choirs. Even when it was something to be laughed at or made fun of, you know, in school. And I was always the kid who was picked at the Christmas concert to sing the solo, you know, while the other kids snickered in the front few rows.
Most Americans acquire dogs impulsively and for dubious reasons: as a Christmas gift for the kids. Because they saw one in a movie. To match the new living-room furniture. Because they moved to the suburbs and see a dog as part of the package.
I use the period between Christmas and New Year to potter about, think and completely change my mindset. In that easy no-man’s-land between Boxing Day and New Year, loins are girded and mettle readied. It is time, as we voyagers bid farewell to the old year, to fare forward.
On the morning, Daddy and I get up at six o’clock because Christmas trees must be bought in the dark. We walk to the other end of town, as the big harbour is just the right setting for buying a Christmas tree. We spend hours choosing, looking at every branch suspiciously. It’s always cold.
We’ve all sort of been there: It’s coming on Christmas, all that preparation is going on, and you just want to escape. You don’t want to buy into it. It’s a time of year that brings up a lot of memories for people, and if you’re missing somebody, it’s hardest at this time of year.
Comparing ‘Christmas Vacation’ to ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ is the silliest thing. That film starred the greatest movie actor of all time, and the idea that our movie could ever be connected in some fashion to something so brilliant and beautiful always made feel like, ‘That’s all they had to write about?’
My grandmother adopted me for a while, and I was bouncing around a bit. I was always helped by the PTA and church groups with food and Christmas presents. It’s a hard cycle to break, because when you don’t have the resources, it’s almost impossible.
My family background is Mexican, and I was born in Chicago. It’s pretty much family tradition every time we get together for Christmas and major holidays to sing. Our family time is centered around the food and a little bit of performing for one another.
I think it’s kind of difficult to write a good Christmas song because you have a narrow framework of references that you have to work within, and at the same time you want to do something that’s personally original and hopefully somewhat unique.
