A Mean(ing) in Holiday

So my editors and I are circling emails about what we're going to write as an editorial for this Thursday's Collegian. News stories evaporated this week, so we're having a hard time.

I suggested (knowing I'd take eye-rolls and jeers for it) that we "talk about something seasonal but not trite: Thanksgiving. I don't want to say anything stupid about 'now, be grateful, everyone!' or 'let's talk about the Pilgrims,' but perhaps recognize that gratitude is more important in times of stress, trouble, papers, and family problems (I mean, what highlights family discord more strongly than spending holidays with them?) because it melts such things in the realization that life is about more than comfort, getting A's, a Republican in the White House, and eating pie. So, that would be the point: gratitude suits itself to ungracious times. Any takers/alternate ideas?"

After my expected round of complaints, an editor wrote back: "I really don't like the idea of using a holiday as a news hook. What's next, a weekly on the true meaning of Christmas?"

I replied sarcastically, "Excellent idea! I'll get on that for next week."

I understand the editors' point: no one wants to hear the same old things again and again. But that plays into mine—we need to hear things repeated because we forget. It's not chic to admit this. The breezy, vacuum-sealed air of cool dissipates upon opening to reality: no one really has it all together. Thus, no one is actually cool. Darn. And we're trying so hard to pretend.

"Holiday cuteness" attempts to swing opposite cynicism by engrossing in meaningless cheer. If some of us want to stand against the wall and blow smoke artistically from our mouths, pointedly ignoring the rest of our "ill-bred" world, others want to hop about town with jingle bells sewn to their shoes and little Santas on their shoulders, "making merry" whether others like it or not. But both extremes miss the central meaning. Merriness needs a subject about which to be merry. Coolness needs to admit its inevitable failure.

This is why we have holidays, and why God made seasons: each recalls truths and goodnesses we have lost among hopeless, ordinary days. If we were perfect, we wouldn't need holidays to slap our normal schedule in the face. But...well, at least I'm not perfect. So an editorial on the true meaning of Christmas? Perhaps that possibility would better serve than sarcasm.

(But, since my editors would far rather print porn than a Thanksgiving weekly...this has been your friendly neighborhood hypothesis; signing out.)