Once again it’s that time of year when Christmas pervades our thoughts and retailers, when we have hard decisions to make about which relatives and friends deserve free tokens of affection or obligation, when our diets are at their most compromised, and when every family or circle remotely connected to us tries to fill up our December calendar page with nonstop, wall-to-wall action and excitement.

Wait, no. They just want everyone who meets their invitation criteria to get together, eat a meal in the same room at the same time, and check off the item on the holiday to-do list that reads “mandatory visiting”. Action and excitement are optional. Too, too optional. Sometimes it’s best not to ask about presents, either.

Many aspects of the season delight me. The annual whirlwind tour to visit all the acquaintances has a tough time ranking on that list. In years past, we’ve been invited to numerous December get-togethers, sometimes conflicting and occasionally fun. Full disclosure: I say this as someone who’s lousy when it comes to “visiting”, which I understand was a major pastime for my elders.

In years past we’ve had to juggle the following items on our itinerary, mostly voluntary:

* Christmas Eve church service
* My mom’s house
* My side of the family
* My wife’s mom’s side of her family
* My wife’s grandmother’s house on her mom’s side (this is a separate event, mind you, that adds a few extra relatives)
* That same grandmother’s extended family (that’s from last Saturday’s annual Christmas outing in my photo above)
* My wife’s dad’s side of her family
* My wife’s dad’s house (also a separate event, minus her aunts and uncles)
* My ex-mother-in-law’s house (“long story” is an understatement)
* Christmas caroling at group home with friends from church
* Our nephew’s December birthday party
* My company Christmas party (MCC fans may recall last year’s awkwardness)

Most years we only have weekends and Christmas Day free and clear in which to line these up back-to-back. I typically work all the other days around Christmas itself. I don’t take Christmas Eve off unless our entire company has the day off, and that only happens when it’s on a weekend. Time is a commodity for us, then.

Don’t forget we also need to allot some margin for Christmas shopping, regular errands that require our attention whether it’s Christmas or not, one-time event opportunities (rare, but they happen), and so on. And Heaven help us if we want to go see a movie in December, especially if it’s a three-hour grind like The Hobbit II: Chapter 7, Paragraphs Six Through Fourteen, Plus 450 Pages of Supplemental Apocrypha Excerpted from Eight Other Lesser Novels Whose Titles No One Can Remember Without WikiPedia-Cheating. If you include early arrival for decent seats and a few dozen trailers and ads, we’re talking a five-hour time block to squeeze in between arguably more important stops. Much as I prefer seeing and writing about theatrical releases in a timely manner, they’re a secondary consideration, waiting their turn in line behind everything else.

And. AND! For extra credit, wouldn’t it be lovely if my wife and I could spend a smidgen of Christmastime together, too? I suppose that’s rhetorical, or perhaps it’s an essay question with no right answers.

At least we’ve been trying to attend these shindigs when invited, to put in a decent showing and remain open to the possibility of enjoying ourselves. Over time, we’ve noticed other invitees have begun excusing themselves from such gatherings more and more, opting instead to spend time on their more “fun” preoccupations, or simply deciding they don’t see the point in awkward mingling with people they only see once or twice annually and consequently barely know. In fact, one of the events listed above has been canceled this year, partly due to declining enthusiasm, and I have serious doubts about another.

To an extent, it’s hard to blame them. Given the choice between (a) internet conversations with people who share actual common interests and intellectual levels, or (b) relatives with whom I share nothing above DNA level, and who think the internet runs on voodoo and Snopes.com isn’t to be trusted…it takes a certain level of dedication to consider that a close race. At all.

And yet.

There are reasons we do this. Personal pleasure, free food ‘n’ gifts, and avoidance of shame aren’t supposed to be the point of showing up and maintaining those connections.

They’re expressions of love. Extensions of camaraderie. Times of fellowship. Part and parcel of the friendship experience. Acknowledgment of those relationships that truly matter, even if we’re lousy at demonstrating it during the other eleven months. Offers of an ear for listening, a shoulder for crying, a wit for entertaining, a light in the dark, even if just for a short, inadequate while.

This year, we may have a pressing example ahead of us.

On Wednesday my wife’s grandmother, age 87, was hospitalized for mysterious internal bleeding. We understand she’s doing better and the doctors have a lead on a probable cause, but the news was frightening, not to mention ill-timed. She’s been busy gearing up for Christmas shopping and for cooking her usual Christmas Day family meal. (Look, we’ve all tried to stop her, but she’ll have none of our charity, because we’ll do it wrong.) I can only imagine how much this setback will have her positively fuming.

Depending on how her next few days in the hospital go, she may have no choice but to accept Christmas assistance from us. All things considered, I’d like to think her dinner stands a chance of achieving closer to 100% attendance this year as a result of family caring, concern, and/or fearfulness. Or maybe I’m wrong and they’ll bow out because reasons. I know for a fact my wife and I will be there. We hope others who think anything of her will see fit to join us, now and (Lord willing) in the years ahead.

Let’s face it: as every one of us keep aging and letting ourselves go, you never know who’s next out the door. While we’re all here, holiday exhaustion notwithstanding, we’d like to make these opportunities count.

…

Well, okay, the company holiday party doesn’t concern me overmuch. That one’s pretty much for free food and door prizes.