Last night, I pulled up the channel guide and saw that two of my very favorite Christmas movies were playing at the same time! What a conundrum. And, no, they weren’t “A Christmas Story” and “Elf,” which I also adore; they were “A Christmas Carol” (the one with Patrick Stewart in the role of Scrooge) and “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
I was going to flip back and forth between the two, but after starting with “A Christmas Carol,” I was so drawn into the story that I stayed with it until the end. I’ve seen “It’s a Wonderful Life” so many times that I can quote most of it anyway, and I own a copy, but “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens is one of my favorite classic books.
Since it’s a classic, clearly it holds a special place in many people’s hearts, especially at this time of year. There are many adaptations of the story, but the original is the best.
Many years ago in the early part of my teaching career, I directed a full-length theater adaptation of “A Christmas Carol” because I’ve always loved the story. Later, when my daughter was a junior, and I was in the latter years of my teaching career, I directed her and others in an abbreviated and comical version of the story called “I’m not Ebenezer Scrooge.” We qualified for one-act state with that performance, and she played the role of the ghost of Christmas yet-to-come. I have fond memories of both of those plays and of the students who played the parts in them.
Today, I received an email from a column reader who wanted to share how much she appreciated what I wrote in my latest column piece. She then went on to tell me a few of her favorite classic books, and she mentioned that she reads “A Christmas Carol” every December. I replied to let her know that it is one of my favorite books.
Dickens was a genius. He had a gift for story telling. I believe that “A Tale of Two Cities” is his best, but many would say that “Great Expectations” is. However, for lasting and far-reaching effect, “A Christmas Carol” beats them all. The structure of using the spirits of his dead business partner, Jacob Marley, and of Christmases past, present, and yet-to-come to show Scrooge the error of his ways makes the story and its message so relatable to every reader.
I’m a bit of a Scrooge at times. Not in the miserly way — you have to have money to be able to pinch it, after all! But I do have that “Bah, humbug” attitude about Christmas — mostly because of the pressure put on us by societal or commercial expectations. I love being with my family and giving them a few gifts, but I don’t buy into most of the over-the-top nonsense that goes with Christmas these days. I barely decorate at all anymore — my tree this year is a very small one that only has lights, candy canes, and a star on top of it. That’s it. The exterior of my house is lightless this year, and I’d prefer to spend Christmas somewhere tropical because I detest the cold and snow. So, there, I’m a bit of a Scrooge, and I own it. (Here’s my little tree — pre-candy canes.)
If a spirit of Christmas Past came to take me on a late-night stroll through my past
Christmases, they were mostly joyful or have all blurred into a mishmash of happy Christmases. One time, though, I was extremely angry at my little brother because he told me what one of my presents was. I never wanted to know in advance. I know some people who secretly unwrap and then rewrap gifts because they can’t stand not knowing, but I was always the opposite. I wanted to be surprised. So, when he told me that one of my gifts was a boxed set of Charlie Brown comics, I was so pissed at him. He’s very lucky to still be alive, quite frankly. Ha ha.
Two Christmases will forever stand out for coming right on the heels of the deaths of two very important people in my life. The first was the Christmas of 1986. My grandmother, Eunice Filsinger, died about a week and a half prior to Christmas and only days before finals of my first semester in college. I always loved spending Christmas with her, so the holiday was never the same after she died. On Christmas Eve day four years ago, my dear friend and colleague, Nate Metschke, died during surgery to remove a tumor from his liver. He was only 40, and he was the light of our school — so much positive energy died with him that day, and the following day, Christmas, was a bleak one to say the least.
I technically got engaged on Christmas Eve of 1988 — that’s when I got the ring. Since that marriage later spiraled into misery and ended in an acrimonious divorce, that memory is a negative one, and it’s associated with Christmas forever unfortunately.
Most of the Christmases, though, that involved my children have been happy ones simply because of their presence (not their “presents”). That’s all I really want from them — their presence.
My spirit of Christmas Present will find me spending the early part of Christmas Eve day with my kids and my boyfriend, and then on Christmas Day we will probably have a quiet day with my daughter and possibly my parents. I will celebrate Christmas with them, my brother and his family, and my kids and boyfriend again on New Year’s Eve day. These things are getting more complicated to plan now that my kids are grown and my son has a girlfriend and my daughter lives out of state.
My spirit of Christmas Yet-to-Come would hopefully show me celebrating the day somewhere warm, preferably in Mexico with my best friend Silvia at least once and somewhere in the Mediterranean another time. He would also show me gleefully watching grandchildren open gifts from me, but that can wait a few years. I would hope to see my parents at many more and some friends I haven’t yet made.
While I so enjoy stumbling upon a great movie adaptation of this story at this time of year, I do wish people would read and appreciate the story’s message year round. We all need to be kinder to each other. It’s good for them, and it’s even better for us.
As Dickens wrote and as the story ends:
Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.
He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!
I hope you’ll read the book. There’s a little bit of Scrooge in each of us, and we need to be reminded about what the true meaning of Christmas is.
Here is a very short poem I wrote years ago after seeing the moon one Christmas Eve.
Christmas moon Round and full, Like the Virgin from so long ago, The moon rises over the winter land, Partly shrouded behind a misty curtain And protected by a peaked cloud roof -- a manger in the night sky. She is a gift from above, sent To guide us.
Merry Christmas. I may not return until after the holidays, but I’m not sure yet. My daughter is coming home for a short stay, so I want to spend as much time with her as possible. Enjoy your family time, too.
If you care to brighten my holidays a smidge, consider becoming a paid subscriber to have access to everything or give someone you know a gift subscription. I have new stuff in the works on a few books. I’ll be sharing them in the new year. Thank you.
Tammy
Just a reminder that I have a 5th book out now, “Trouble on Tybee.” I hope you’ll read one or all of my books. (Note the candy canes are on the tree in this photo. 🎄 )
A Christmas Carol