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As boomers, we have a big handicap as we approach the holiday season; namely, the clichés don’t sound quite as corny as they used to and begin to sound as if they actually mean something as we get older.

Thanksgiving, we’re told, is for “counting our blessings”.  And, with each passing year, we do count our good fortune in earnest. And, we find that family and friends are, in fact, the greatest gifts we can ever have. And, as we launch into the big meal’s blessing, we begin to exhibit genuine tears as we struggle to find words to express the profound gratitude we feel.

The Hallmark cards tell us that we are coming to the season of “comfort and joy,” of “peace on Earth and goodwill towards men”. And that begins to express what we envision as the major ingredients of a content world.

It is no longer materialism—consumer-drive acquisition—that drives us. We don’t want another electric razor. Nor do we need a bigger, more translucent diamond to pronounce our love. Far more desirable is the lopsided, almost indecipherable drawing of the dog that our three year-old grandson made for us…or adding the ornament made for us in the fourth grade arts and crafts class and getting to put it alongside all the old ornaments on the tree and remembering when each was first acquired…or retiring to the kitchen to bake the incredible cookie recipe that we are shepherding into the next generation. Oh, the stories that goes with each one.

And peace on earth is still the ever elusive prize that humanity still seeks. The great star that seems to evades us. That one still does not shine the way over Bethlehem…or Baghdad…or Kabul. And goodwill towards men does not yet prevent the nine elevens of the world nor stay the killer’s hand at Fort Hood. It is the cycles of life that punctuate each year and give it a palpable, symbolic measure.

The beat of the holidays give it rhythm. And as we age, we posit more emotion into the holidays. We pierce beyond the superficial mercantile manipulation of 4 AM, “oh dark thirty” super sales, with hordes of anxiety-fueled shopper poised at the starting line, ready to sprint to the savings on aisle three, itchy trigger finds coiled around their credit cards. Instead, we stop to glance nostalgically at the window display, to watch the toy train that chugs its way past the North Pole, or secretly smile as the children make their way wide-eyed to whisper their soft secret wishes into Santa’s ear.

We combine our ecological awareness of “fake” trees with the nostalgia of picking a real one out. We ponder the loss of wonder that comes from undoing Santa and replacing him with shopping at Wal-Mart. We understand that the passing of time means that losses mount up and the weight of this regretful sediment adds a luster of symbolic significance to every holiday. We want to dwell in each occasion rather than simply survive them.

We no longer look forward to getting back to the office as much as we anticipate hosting the holidays, of getting the guest rooms ready, of getting the yellowed recipes out, of hanging up the stockings with care. And, yes, the clichés, the commercials, and the Christmas specials, all seem to tug at our heart strings a little bit more.

As we age, we discern the wisdom and truth of the holidays. They stir powerful emotions. We don’t hope for the holidays to pass anymore but pray that they might one day fulfill their promise of a better, kinder, and safer world.

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Tags: boomers, greatest gifts, holiday season, peace on earth, profound gratitude

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