Last Christmas

 

Looking back at the final chapter in my Schlock-Mas endurance test, I just didn't feel like that should be my last word on the subject of Christmas. I love Christmas, and I almost let the circumstances of my dreadful Christmas Eve ruin the whole season for me. That's not what I want, So I've decided to change that.

A little time has passed, most of Christmas Day is in my rear view, and I feel better. I watched my nephews unwrap their presents earlier, and they were so excited, and I suppose some of that excitement, some of that holiday spirit, rubbed off on me. It made me remember the way I felt when I was a kid, when the world was full of possibilities and I was going to live forever.

I remember the first time my grandfather told me about Krampus while spending Thanksgiving in Arkansas when I was 7 years old. I always felt like the last person to know about everything when I was a kid, so when the old man told me the story of St. Nicholas' sinister shadow stalking the world and punishing naughty children everywhere each Christmas Eve, I just assumed everybody else already knew about this, and when I turned to my mother and saw her simply nod her head, confirming my grandfather's tale, I was terrified.

I was never an angel growing up, so I became certain that Krampus was going to pay me a visit that Christmas Eve, or maybe the next, and so I tried to improve my behavior a little, at least around the holidays, to try and stay off the Yule Lord's naughty list.

Growing up, I just thought everybody knew about Krampus, and so I never broached the subject with family or friends, and I was shocked to discover as a teenager that nobody I knew had ever heard of Krampus. My friends all thought I was making it all up, but I had found several Krampus legends in books I'd discovered at the public library, so I knew my grandfather had told me the truth, and these kids were just ignorant.

I'm very ambivalent about the rise of Krampus in modern pop culture. I'm glad that more people are becoming familiar with the legends, but I dread oversaturation, and I hate seeing the sinister stories losing their edge with future generations, but this is generally the way things go, isn't it? The tales from the Brothers Grimm had their teeth pulled by overprotective parents, after all. Sanitized for your protection.

I remember waking up so early on Christmas Day, long before sunrise, and creeping into the family room to see a newly-arrived bounty of beautifully-wrapped parcels nestled under the inviting light of our Christmas tree. Nobody else in the house was awake, and the entire world was still and quiet. I was all alone in this magical little world, and the atmosphere was alive with the anticipation of the day to come. The coffee maker in the kitchen had switched on, and the smell of hot Maxwell House was in the air. The fake log in the gas fireplace was glowing, and the stockings hung from the mantel were nicely backlit, casting long shadows on the thick carpet. The big windows behind the sofa were ringed with frost, and I could hear the dogs softly snoring in the hallway.



Soon, everybody would stumble out of their beds and find their way to the family room, and Christmas would officially begin, but for that one moment, I was all alone, and I was content.

And I remember sitting on the floor of my media room with my best friend, sharing a bottle of apple whiskey, just shooting the breeze well into the night, talking about the past, the future, and everything in between. I miss him every single day, and I miss those long nights, and the arguments, and his boisterous laugh. Last Christmas was his last Christmas. It's been extremely difficult to edit the recent podcasts, because every time I hear his voice through the speakers on my monitor, I am acutely reminded of his loss, that I've had my last conversation with my best friend, and I can't bring myself to listen to that last conversation, because when I do that will mean he's truly gone.

There's a new, and not-coincidentally Christmas-themed episode below, which consists of portions of two conversations. The first portion is from October of 2014, features myself, Titus and Ky, and we talk about 1984's Silent Night, Deadly Night, one of my favorite Christmas movies. The second portion features myself and Titus discussing our previously published two-part holiday episode The Christmas Conundrum, and was recorded back in January. Enjoy:

Chapter 92: Last Christmas



This is going to be the final episode of Lies My Podcast Told Me, at least for now. I will eventually publish 100 episodes, because I have a promise to keep, but I need a little more time to pass before I start cutting the last eight episodes together.

Isn't this just typical? I came back to provide a more upbeat coda to the year on this blog, and this is how it turns out. But that's fine, I think. We need to be reminded that we don't have all the time in the world, every now and then. We're not going to live forever, and we never know if the next time we see the people we love will be the last time. Knowing this, we can cherish the time we have together all the more. I cherish the time I had with my best friend, and even though he's gone, right now I'm smiling because I remember that we had seventeen good years together. I remember handing him his Christmas present last year, and the look on his face when he unwrapped it.

I saw that look on my nephew's face this morning, and I was content.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, TITUS