Christmas musings from a bored, isolated Jew

For the majority of my life, I never knew what it was like to celebrate Christmas. That’s a pretty sad thing right? We can blame my Judaism for that.

It was always the time of year when we avoided malls and had a bunch of time to hang out with other Jews because everyone else was totally occupied. For Channuka, I’d get one big gift (TV converter, a popcorn maker) on the first day and then a couple of little gifts (bobby pins, toothpicks) for a couple of days after, but never the whole eight days. Or was it seven? I always forget because I’m a terrible Jew.

I was always jealous of the seemingly endless amount of stuff my schoolmates would show up with after we’d returned to school. They had all the newest, coolest shit (pogo balls, Gameboys, whole outfits from Le Chateau) and I didn’t because I was a Jew from a cheap Jew family.

I got to first experience Christmas with a boyfriend’s family when I lived in Victoria. I was in my mid-20s and stopped flying home for the holidays after university, because flights were exorbitant and, as mentioned before, I come from a cheap Jew family. I was close with my boyfriend’s family and they were so excited to have me over and be the ones to teach me what Christmas was all about: consumption and materialism. It is WAY better than Hannuka. I’d convert in a heartbeat. I fucking CASHED in.

The first year I got so many gifts, they overflowed from under the tree, and onto a couch. A whole couch of gifts! After spending most of the morning unwrapping presents, we spent the rest of the day eating.  That’s my kind of holidays. Consuming stuff for hours!

Things started to shift over the next few years. My gift bounty got a bit smaller and my intention of getting family and extended family thoughtful gifts soon went out the window as my limited time wouldn’t allow it. So I spent money on useless junk (a shoe organizer for a 16-year-old wannabe gangster rapper, Crossroads DVD for Grandpa.) The food eating part was still awesome but the mystique of Christmas had faded. (It’s still better than Channaka, at least the gift part. In terms of food, I do love fried potato pancakes.)

After things ended with said boyfriend, the holiday times (read: Christmas) have become a non-issue for me. And by non-issue, I mean a really slow few weeks. I generally have an orphans’ dinner with some kind friends and spend a bunch of time alone watching movies from the library and cleaning my apartment. Meanwhile, the rest of the world is busy getting elbowed in the tit or groin at Future Shop or attending family functions where it’s seemingly okay to get shitfaced and joke-y violent with shitty family members.

While there’s something to be said about quality time with the family, it’s nice not to buy into the masses. Waking up on Christmas and going for a walk alone is one of my favourite things to do. The energy is unlike any other time of year – scaled back and serene. It’s the one day where it’s okay to relax, because the world is on lockdown and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.

It’s the one time of year where I can make something so universal, and so inescapable, into something that’s completely my own. In my own terrible cheap Jew kind of way.

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