Most large hairy mammals, my friend Sue always says, hibernate in the winter months. “But not people," she adds. "They go crazy in December.”
For some of us, going crazy is a way to avoid the “red and green blues,” a phrase I came up with some years ago. (See my blog post from Dec. 17, 2019.) Individual pressures we put on ourselves may vary, but sky-high expectations for the holidays — so often unmet — can interfere mightily with holiday cheer.
“Don’t have expectations,” my friend Ross always said. “Then you won’t be disappointed.” I often countered that with arguments in favor of gleeful anticipation, but he would not be moved. Even knowing, at this age, that taking responsibility for your reaction to anything that occurs is one of the few things we can control does not remove my sense every December that somehow, the holidays could be brighter, shinier, maybe overlaid with a touch of Norman Rockwell.
Then I remember reading decades ago that Rockwell painted what he wished life — his own life and our collective lives — looked like, aspirations on canvas.
Another friend, the first long-term breast cancer survivor I met, said her secret to joy year 'round was this: “Cast your anchor into the future.” In other words, make plans, plans that may even live up to any expectations (ill-advised or otherwise) you may have.
Come December, I make plans, many plans.
At some point, the family will fill me in on the schedule for Christmas Day, but I take responsibility for filling the rest of the month. For example, I buy tickets. This year, I’m taking The Boy to see the national tour of “The Lion King,” and as I shopped the first date that tickets were available, I scored him an aisle seat! Another day (so grateful for matinees in my dotage), I’ll see “Guys and Dolls” at a local theater with a neighbor.
I bought a ticket to the Smuin Ballet’s holiday show, billed as “a little ballet, a little Broadway, and a whole lot of Smuin,” which sounds festive. I’ve already seen the San Francisco Ballet’s production of “The Nutcracker,” and because I love the score, I make a point of playing it each year on the evening that I wrap gifts. Because I also am a huge fan of “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” I am considering springing for a ticket to the Adam Shulman Trio’s performance of Vince Guaraldi’s memorable score at SF Jazz. But Snoopy won’t be there…
A friend has invited me to a gala showcase at The Circus Center, to watch people who still fully trust their bodies execute astonishing moves. I’ll attend a posh Hanukkah party with lively newspaper people. My Full Moon Cocktail group has lunch reservations at a nice Italian place. My apartment building, aka the Senior Dorm, has numerous events planned: a holiday decorating party, a piano concert by a gifted resident, a casual residents’ gathering, Christmas movie showings and also a lovely catered meal. Plus, I’ve got Something Fun to Do on New Year’s Day.
In the past, when my living space was a generous 1,700 square feet, I routinely invited 75 close friends to a Winter Solstice party. After losing 1,000 square feet in the move to San Francisco, in many a December I invited The Boy, his cousins and the other local grandma over to help me decorate my apartment. Now, the kids are much older and much busier, and my box of decorations are high up on a closet shelf.
“Used-to-bes” don’t count anymore, so I’m making plans. Next up: I’ll ask someone in the office to get that box down for me. December is here, so it’s time to manage expectations — but also to spruce up the place with some red and green!
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