Overlooked stories
The subject line of the New York Times email in my inbox notified me of “overlooked stories.” I didn’t even have to open the email to know that I had missed some things. Lots of things. Especially over the last few days of holiday goings-on. Atypically, I didn’t check my email or social media or much of anything except for the Total Views count for my latest essay on the Silver Linings page . . . which I do compulsively. I emptied my Inbox during that short stretch of time, but I pretty much do that by rote, too. (I hope I didn’t delete a job offer or publishing contract . . . ) The outside world didn’t make its way into my Christmas this year and apart from my immediate family’s needs and whereabouts, I was content.
Our Christmas was a really nice day with some gifts and chocolates and a fire in the fireplace. We ended the day with a tasty meal, and except for a faulty Trader Joe’s Porchetta which didn’t seem to want to cook, we all slept the sleep of the well-fed that night. The day after Christmas, though, I found myself feeling relieved...and that surprised me. A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my “Return to Christmas” and how I was actually in the Christmas spirit and hopeful that it would carry me through the holidays. Why was I relieved? I didn’t recall wanting the days to end or be any different than they were. Not only did I feel slightly relieved, I sat down to read a book by the fire--another really nice holiday activity--and fell asleep for two hours. I never nap. What was this relief about?
Upon my return to social media it started to make a little more sense. My Christmas was quiet and warm, still and calm. My family was safe and cared for, whether by me or by others. When I looked out from my world--when I ventured back onto Facebook--I was reminded of those for whom Christmas is not safe and warm, happy or bright. There were posts about how hard it was, how terrible the memories, how daunting the gatherings. For so many people, the holidays--and not only Christmas, but all the holidays--spark dangerous places in their hearts and minds, filled with sadness and dread.
This year, I had closed ranks and only engaged in as much as my newfound spirit would allow. There was no way I could go caroling, host a Christmas Eve smorgasbord or post sparkly gifs on Facebook...that would have been too much. I had as much Christmas as I could for now and just enough holiday spirit to get me through the days of preparation and celebration. (We actually have another Christmas celebration for those who are returning from out of town and I have some spirit on reserve for that gathering.) I think I was relieved to know we made it through; relief that the holiday was successful rather than that it was over.
The Times stories weren’t current, but those from the past year that, despite being a “great piece of writing” were not given “as much attention as they deserved.” The Times’ overlooked stories reminded me of those others, the ones who are sad or depressed and counting the days until January 2nd. How can we understand their pain and distress and pay attention to their experience? Do they ever feel relief? Every single day could mean the difference between seeing the world with eyes full of Christmas lights or eyes full of pain or depression. I believe that it’s their stories that give meaning to our stories. That the joy we feel at the holidays exists side by side with the pain others endure. It’s our own Christmas Carol, past, present and future.