When I was a kid I had a recurring dream — a wish, really — that I could pull some stored snowballs from the freezer and pelt my brother with them on the hottest day in the July.
That is the curse of being the smallest brother. You have to scheme in order to find satisfaction.
These days my snowballs in the freezer are more easily accessed. It is called Christmas and I drive people crazy with it.
It is my one true joy in life.
I start in July because August is too early to do anything with Christmas. But there is just something about the blazing heat and humidity of July that makes it all ok. People laugh when they see you stringing lights or they smile if they see hear about you Christmas shopping in July.
In August, you’re a sick weirdo. In July, you’re hip.
Don’t ask me to explain it. I get into it in July because I’m done with summer by Memorial Day. Perhaps if I still lived in snow country I would feel different.
I get my Christmas on in July because I love how it makes me feel. The cable shopping channels? Got ‘em on. Hallmark Christmas movies? I watch every sappy one of them. Christmas radio on the Internet year round? Yes, there is a God.
The challenge doesn’t come from doing this in July. It comes from defending doing it from the first of August through the end of October.
I don’t know why Christmas in August is so offensive. But some people really get their knickers in a twist over it.
But have you ever seen a snowman that made you cry? Have you ever waved to Santa and not smiled? Have you ever conspired for the greatest Christmas surprise in the world and felt great about it every minute you were doing it?
Why not, then, celebrate Christmas at times other than Christmas?
Christmas in July isn’t just something to keep you cool. It isn’t the half birthday of anything.
It is the continuation of a state of mind.
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