Tuesday, December 24, 1991
Nick struggles to find peace tonight, even after a soak.
Even after the most most positive of years, it’s possible to not realize the ‘holiday spirit’ when it rolls around.
Then again, Nick can’t ever remember ever catching it before. In younger years, you just go with the flow, singing at school, refusing to sing at church (since it’s not a government institution…), displays at the store. One time while up at Gramma and Paps the boys got to visit a real Mall Santa, and Nick got a strange reaction when asking for a “wind-up bomber” like Bugs Bunny uses at some point - five-year-old Nick could imagine the retail packaging even at Irene’s insistence that it couldn’t possibly exist.
It wasn’t much longer after that he admitted to his mom that Santa didn’t probably exist, a belief Tim had been surprisingly complicit with (at least in appearances). Irene pleaded with him to not upset other kids with this revelation, although the few younger ones he tried it with simply didn’t believe him.
From there, it became a struggle to not be so materialistic. In seventh grade he made a point to not snoop, only to find most of his gifts (including a weight set to be shared with Tim) in the normal course of life. So what’s the point?
In the Danni years, she had managed to talk him into a youth banquet where he awkwardly sat next to her, just a tad overwhelmed at her hemline just below the knee. Nick was almost resentful that she had the nerve to look so sophisticated (in all fairness, to BE so sophisticated…) while he’s sitting there with little in common with the other attendees and feeling like some cartoon character who momentarily transforms into a braying ass after taking the bait, except, this lasted about 90 minutes, although the trademark squeeze before going home pretty much made up for it all.
Since then, and partially because of it - to be perfectly honest, he just strives to be thoughtful and supportive during the holidays, and still just go with the flow.
But this year it seems hopeless. Maybe that he’s put in so many hours for Bain that the sentiment got buried, then when Tim came back, Nick just yielded the floor for the most part, and here we are.
The tree still has all the same ornaments, all the same songs are playing all around, as do the holiday TV specials, but yet, that’s not it.
It’s tempting to call Deej, see what she thinks, but then, dunno…they exchanged cards this year, as per custom, and she seems to be up to her ears in this n’ that, and he’s not really in the mood to talk.
Radio isn’t doing the trick, but soothing music is tolerable.
After some deep breaths, and maybe dozing off, the Pax Navidad finally manifests in a very simple fact that’s been there all along, to not only go with the flow, but find the meaning each year - and every moment, for that matter - as it comes.
So he heads downstairs and is offered a grilled cheese, Tim wants to see how fresh Nick smells after his bath, then they dig out the old Atari and bash each other’s tanks around the screen and try to outdo each other with nasty comments.
And with that, Merry Christmas from all of us here at Jameson.