Touching Souls, Savoring Life
By David Steffen
When it comes to holidays and special occasions, there are norms to be understood, and axioms to be accepted. For example, everyone knows that right after Halloween, with all of its scary fun and delicious treats, we are faced with the prospect of a more formalized collective happiness. Tis the season to be cheerful. And grateful. Or we must (at least) make an effort to be both for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Memories come from our minds, our cameras, and sometimes a cinematic reflection.
Anyone with the requisite number of birthdays behind them will recognize themselves in different parts of the 1983 film, “A Christmas Story”. I always gravitate to the scene when the Parker family—the Old Man, the Mother, Ralphie and Randy—go to downtown Cleveland one evening to look at holiday displays in the Higbee's department store windows. These dioramas in miniature contained scenes of holiday life, complete with an electric train, tiny people, horse-drawn carriages, toy buildings with snow on the roofs, angels, fairies, stars and Christmas trees. For this 10-year old in the late 1950s, Gimbels’ main store in downtown Milwaukee was the place to see those big decorated windows. Standing and staring through the window next to my older sister, brother, my mother and father, we saw our own personalized holiday scene. Like Ralphie, I was in awe.
Twenty years later I was regularly traveling to New York, and by 1990 I was working from an office in Manhattan. I admit that being in the Big Apple in December always brought back memories of my family’s Christmas visit to Gimbels, and to recharge that memory I’d make an effort to swing by Macy’s flagship store at Herald Square to take in the magic in their windows. Those dreams were helped along by the sight and sound of the Salvation Army bell ringers on the corner of 34th and Broadway. Let’s be honest. None of us want to be sad or angry or depressed as Thanksgiving and Christmas approached.
My daughter Caitie’s first Christmas was in 1988, and we made an effort to give her some of what we had as children. Mostly it was about the holidays in our home as we enjoyed a Christmas in Connecticut. Before you jump to conclusions, our holiday was not a comparison of the 1945 film with Barbara Stanwyck, Dennis Morgan and Sydney Greenstreet. Yes, we lived in an old Connecticut farmhouse, but unlike Stanwyck’s character, Dolly knew how to make the house warm, prepared an amazing meal, and took care to get the delicious aromas of turkey or goose into every nook and cranny of that old farmhouse. Snow was almost always on the ground by Thanksgiving, and that, of course, meant Caitie and I would build a snowman.
And here we are again. Another holiday season is ready to begin, and we hope that this November and December our mood will reflect the best of the season including, of course, good tidings and great joy. And yet, as you undoubtedly know, when the holidays approach, some of us may, at times, seem a little sad or blue. Leave it to the psychologists who, forty years ago, described this phenomenon as a symptom and, in turn, create a malady: SAD. Voila! With Seasonal Affective Disorder, western medicine pigeon-holed an emotional issue. It’s worth noting, however, that at least one North American indigenous people, the Inuit of Northern Canada, identified a similar condition centuries earlier. The Inuit term is piblokto, and it has nothing to do with pilgrims, turkey, Santa Claus or the baby Jesus.
Most of the Inuit people live in northern Canada. Their homeland is known as Inuit Nunangat—that is, the land, water and ice of the Arctic. Like SAD, the psychologists decided to define piblokto, which occurs mostly in winter:
“A society-bound syndrome viewed mainly in female Inuit and other arctic populaces. People experience an abrupt dissociative period of intense excitement wherein they frequently tear off clothes, run nude through the snow, shout, throw objects, and engage in other wild actions. This commonly ends with convulsive seizures, followed by an acute coma and amnesia of the occurrence. Commonly referred to as arctic hysteria.”
For most of us, reading that definition one can see how the Inuit were prescient enough to recognize this specific seasonal disorder long before “SAD.” Perhaps we can even see ourselves somewhere (or entirely) within the definition of piblokto. I’m willing to admit that at some point in my life I have done at least a few of those things: torn off my clothes, shouted, thrown objects, and engaged in other wild actions. Don’t ask. It’s possible I ran nude through the snow but I don’t recall. Nor do I have any recollection of a convulsive seizure, or an acute coma and amnesia of the occurrence. At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. So just how do we deal with holiday emotions?
Perhaps you and your family are entirely happy, civil, warm and fuzzy throughout the entire holiday season. No arguments, no disagreements, no squabbles, no election conversations, and no dress code violations. No debating whether everyone will attend Christmas Eve or Christmas morning services, or maybe just opt out entirely. Some may suggest another way: leave religion alone this season, and turn the conversation to one of happy memories, hope for the new year, and real togetherness.
For me, I’ve been thinking about one simple word in 2021, a focus this year more than any recent year. That word is thankfulness. I have a lot for which I am thankful. I’m not talking about material things. I truly don’t care if I get any material gift this year. (Of course I won’t object if one shows up, but family, take note. No gift needed.) I have been making an effort to reach out more—calling and writing— to friends old and friends new. I’m taking time to stop and smell the roses or whatever else is in season. Instead of a drive-by as I head north or south on Highway One, I’m stopping to look at the Pacific Ocean more than in the past. One of the great lessons of the Pacific Ocean (or the Grand Canyon, or the moon, or the north star) is that they all go on and on, and we are here only for a moment.
It’s exactly 50 years since Joni Mitchell released her "Blue" album, and I'm not bringing it up just for the song “River." That song has become a bit of a Christmas standard given the opening riff from Jingle Bells, and the first verse lyrics:
It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
One way or another the album finds its way into our consciousness. Not with a shouting voice but with an entreating voice. Consider another song: “A Case of You”. For the record, my talents are not those of a painter, or a sketch artist, or a songwriter, or a carpenter. And yet, in one verse, Mitchell uses her formidable song writing gift to dive into a human relationship. Fifty years after first hearing “A Case of You”, I can still embrace its premise as a reminder of where I am in this world, particularly with the people in my life.
I remember that time you told me
You said, "Love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
'Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling
And still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet
This is clearly a personal song and yet, the sentiment can be applied elsewhere. The German inventor Friedrich Gottlob Koenig (1774 – 1833) offered some advice on happiness: “We tend to forget that happiness doesn’t come as a result of getting something we don’t have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have.”
Many of us will choose to gather together this Thanksgiving, or Hanukkah, or Christmas. Others will be satisfied staying in place. Whether we embrace the heavens or the earth, whether we pray for the future or remember the past, regardless of our choice of reaching out to friends and family, or staying home, let’s at least agree that there is something for which we can all be thankful. And only you know what that something is. The older I am I find that Mitchell’s “A Case of You” can be readily adaptive. For me, the world this year is like that holy wine. Some bitterness, some sweetness, but nothing we can’t handle.
Take stock of your blessings, seek out the sweet, and drink it all in. We’ll still be on our feet. And savoring life.
Images: Upper : David with Caitie, 1993. Lower: "Blue" album cover. (1971).
