I’m feeling very melancholy today. And I can tell that this post is not going to be one of the easy ones. I’m used to the words just falling onto the page but I’m really struggling here.
Quite frankly, I don’t know where to begin.
I’ve been following this Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays brouhaha somewhat. I don’t choose to, but if you’re on Facebook half as much as I am (I’m an addict), it’s unavoidable.
I’m pretty sure Bill O’Reilly started it to jack up his ratings, but I can’t swear by it since I don’t watch the man’s show and I don’t have the time to look it up on YouTube.
(I have a kid with autism, you know. It’s quite time consuming. Plus the blog and shopping.)
It caught me off guard, a few posts like (and I paraphrase) “You can’t tell me not to say Merry Christmas” and “This is America and I celebrate Christmas”. I couldn’t figure it out.
Who’s telling whom they can’t say Merry Christmas? Have I missed the memo?
This was my favorite. I think this person must have been drinking because it makes no kind of sense. And I quote, “Merry Christmas christmas tree christmas tree Merry Christmas! If your offeneded go f**k yourself cause I pledge allegiance to the one and ONLY flag of the USA!”
Scratch that, I think he was smoking crack. It’s the only explanation.
This whole thing kind of shocked me. Who cares if the sign at the store says Happy Holidays? If there’s one thing having a child with autism has taught me, it’s that life is too crowded to worry about imaginary slights and getting worked up into a lather about every little thing. I’m too exhausted for that.
We focus on the big things like poop and tantrums and IEPs, and everything else is just white noise.
Maybe these people need to borrow my kid for a few hours. That’ll take their mind off
the holidays Christmas right quick.
But in the end, I think that what bothers me so much is this—
If there’s not room for Happy Holidays, is there room for my son? If someone won’t tolerate a simple Happy Holiday instead of a Merry Christmas--such a small thing, really--how will they tolerate Conor’s unpredictable, sometimes volatile behavior?
Would they be empathetic and compassionate or will they say “get the f*ck out of my way” when he butts in line or “I have a belt in my car” when he’s having a public tantrum?
(By the way, I never let him butt in line, but he often tries. No patience. I have, however, offered to kiss many a stranger in gratitude for kindly letting us in line ahead of them when they notice his disability. So far, no takers.)
Would they help me out of a tough situation with my child or will they tell me not to let the border hit my ass on the way to Mexico because I can't control him?
Is there room in this world for my son? I'm not sure what I would do if this were my neighbor, instead of a picture someone seriously posted on their Facebook page, with other people "liking" it.
I'm not sure what I would do, but I certainly wouldn't call them "Christian".