I'm not trying to be poetic or use some sort of metaphor. I walked down the street and CRIED.
Because apparently it is not enough that there is war and murder and oppression and starvation and the flagrant misuse of the word "ironic". No. Those are the things that always seem to be there. The things of which we all conscious on some level, but have become more of an ache than a sharp pain. Tragedies that have not lost their horror or scope, yet no longer surprise us, as horrible as that sounds. And sometimes we are able to forget. We have to forget. We have to put aside the overwhelming catastrophes that humans inflict on each other so that we don't go mad. So that we can still enjoy our small pieces of paradise. So that we can watch a little girl in her funny winter hat skateboard down the sidewalk and still smile. I am not dismissing all the things that people all over the world are suffering this very second at the hands of their fellow species. Those actions can never, and should never, be brushed aside. I'm fighting for the idea that we must all cling on to the good. Fight for the smiles as hard as we fight against the hate.
And what has unhinged me so? What set forth this tirade? It was the silliest, simplest, saddest little thing. A Salvation Army collector has materialized outside the entrance of my grocery. With his red bucket and ever-ringing bell. Now, I do not always give to people collecting money. I believe very few people have the means to ALWAYS give, but I told myself that if I had change left over when I came out, that I would drop it in. Shopping commenced, jelled cranberries were bought, and all was merry and bright. As I made my exit, I slowed and reached into my pocket for the change I had dedicated to that red bucket and bell. I was not the only one exiting, though. There was also an older gentleman (I use the term "gentleman" quite loosely here) with a truly inordinate amount of toilet paper also making his departure. As he rushed by, I heard him snark, "Ugh! Out here already?! It's not even Thanksgiving!"
I had a short exchange with the man collecting money about this Grinch, dropped in my changed, wished him a happy Thanksgiving, and went along my way to ponder humanity as I walked my groceries home. I don't know why, but the man's comment really cut at me. Sure, people kvetch about Christmas music, decorations, and hype bombarding them the second Halloween is done. This humbuginess doesn't really bother me. These people are entitled to their harmless, be it misguided opinions. (Really people. Christmas is wonderful, why wouldn't you want to prolong it?) But complaining that an organization has started to collect money to help people "too early"? How can it be "too early" to help? I know some people have some very strong opinions about how helpful Salvation Army really is (and that IS a very valid opinion), but that's not my point right now. My point is that there was a human being giving his time and energy in an attempt to make the world a better place, and he was met with angry words from another human being because something associated with Christmas was put into his path three days before Thanksgiving.
Now, I've never done a study on collecting for charity. I don't know if extending exposure during the holiday season ends up in the collection of more money, or if people get angry and fed up, and therefore donate less. The statistics part of me really wants to know, but the rest of me wants to believe the best in people. That having collectors out there starting earlier brings in more money, and helps more people. Again, not the point. The point is that this man could not just walk by, saying nothing.
It was too much.
As though there is a time limit, a finite window of opportunity when people are allowed to be charitable, and it only comes after we have all stuffed our faces with turkey. And jelled cranberries. As though that man ringing his bell is as annoying as the Hippopotamus Song on November 1st or seeing Christmas lights displayed next to Halloween candy.
Here's the thing. I love Christmas. And of course I adore the music and the decorations (and cookies!), but it's more about the feeling of it. The giving. The joy. The smiles. The love. So when people attack or grumble about the artificial trappings of Christmas, I don't get too fussed about it. Because I still get to listen to my tunes and eat my cookies. It's when someone is frustrated by the deeper meaning of the season that I get worried. Not necessarily the Christian significance of the holiday, more how this time of year should remind humanity of its better nature. Remind humanity to care and to smile. And this man was having none of it.
So I wept.
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