The reason for the seizin'

I'm no sociologist. And while I'm at it, I'm no theologian, economist, political scientist, event-planner, or philosopher-king, and, as people close to me are eager to point out, I'm no historian. But I am capable of observing the social phenomena around me, of which I am, for better or worse, a part. So I'll just lay it out there.

It appears to my untrained eye that this crazy, sacred, hectic, holy, anxious, nostalgic, stressful, special time of year is all about consuming. Consuming more and better goods and services than last year, more than Mom, Dad, Patty and all the folks back home, more than we did when we were kids, and more than the Joneses. But tastefully, with style and class.

I hasten to add that I too experience these symptoms. I too want the best available dead pine tree drying out in the living room, the best available Scandinavian foods (imported from Minneapolis) on the dining room table, colorful and pretty packages under the tree, cool arty cards in the mail to family and friends, a few nice things for Gven, Helga, and Jessi. I'm a participant, if a somewhat ambivalent and nostalgic one.

For many people this midwinter nightmare is a religious holiday that they actually celebrate with a community of the faithful. What, maybe 30 percent? I do that too. Having been raised in that way, it would feel lacking somehow not to go to church and feel the warm glow of the assembled congregation, sing the carols, light the candles.

The other 70 percent (plus most of the above 30) are worshipping at the mall or their favorite catalog or online retail site, practicing the great American secular religion of commerce. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT. Think of the impact on the economy if Walmart didn't have a record-breaking gross this year. It's the neighborly thing to do, supporting the multinational corporation that employs the people who buy what you and I produce, in this best of all possible interconnected webs. Just think how bad it would be if Reagan hadn't vanquished the evil empire of dialectical materialism.

If I were bold enough to ask the manic shoppers what it's all about, most would say that "It's for the kids." And they'd say it with a straight face.

Before I bust an artery in my annual rage over the holiest of holy days, I will submit for your consideration the following simile: Christmas is like a drug that everybody takes and buys lots of worthless but shiny stuff, but it's okay because you were high on Christmas.