The Elephant in the Room

I am speaking of the dreaded WHITE ELEPHANT GIFT EXCHANGE which rears its ugly trunk every year at this time.

The White Elephant Gift Exchange, or WEGE for short, takes anarchy out of politics and puts it where it belongs: right smack in the middle of the holidays. For those of you not familiar with this custom, allow me to elucidate.

Participants in the WEGE will bring a wrapped present, of superfluous and irrelevant nature, to the gathering - usually at the workplace - where this Battle of the Bows will occur. They will receive a number. When all the booty has been collected, a number is drawn. Whoever has that number gets first choice of the WEGE gifts. They unwrap their choice, to a response of either oohs and ahs or outright guffaws, since one of the guidelines for WEGE shopping is that the more humorous the item, the better. This can get dicey since one person's idea of a humorous holiday gift may not be appreciated by another.

But, onward with the fun! The next number is drawn, and the holder chooses a gift. Now the gloves come off: if person #1 likes person #2's gift better, they promptly rip it out of person #2's hands and shove their #1 gift in their face. Repeat until all the gifts are retrieved, and allow to continue until everyone is equally annoyed. Doesn't that just warm the cockles of your heart?

There is usually a $5 spending cap on WEGE items, which is a good thing. It's hard to justify shopping for a unisex borderline obscene holiday gift when you have a sneaking suspicion that whoever ends up with it does so with deep-seated resentment. But, be of good cheer! If you find yourself the owner of a coffee cup shaped like a human kidney, or a plastic donkey that excretes jelly beans out of its butt, remember: The next White Elephant Gift Exchange is only 12 months away...

It's Good to be a Mime

Hey! happy...er, merry-- uh, blessed...um....wow, sure cold out, isn't it?

There's nothing like political correctness to halt well-wishers in their verbal tracks in December. Back in the Pleistoscene era when I was a kid, we just told everybody 'Merry Christmas!' the way we said 'Bless you!' when they sneezed. Any time between December 1st and Christmas Day it was appropriate. Unlike now, when it could very well land you in the Personnel Office with a religious intolerance complaint.

In the late 50s the Jewish kids kind of faded into the background. Fast-forward to the 70s when Hannukah became hip, blue and white wrapping paper with dreidels blossomed in the stores, and everybody was happy - right? Well...not exactly. The introduction of Kwanzaa enabled African Americans to embrace a holiday of their own, independent of the religions that smacked of servitude and slavery. And hey - here in the land of plenty, there's always room for more!

Now, in the 21st century, we have the U.S. Postal service to thank for making us aware of the Muslim observance of Ramadan, since many were unaware of its existence before the issuance of a commemorative stamp. Its graceful, flowing Arabic script now graces outgoing mail from November to New Years.

And now my favorite...Solstice. We pagans don't have our own stamp yet, but any year on December 21st, the day with the least hours of sunlight, we can be found clustered around bonfires, singing and chanting and drinking something hot and possibly alcoholic. Father Sun has died but he will be reborn and we will celebrate him in full on June 21st when we have the most hours of sunlight to do so. Until then, in the dark cold crisp splendor of December, let me wish you something. But before I do, I ask a favor: please don't seize the well-meaning holiday greetings of others and turn them into personal verbal affronts to which you respond with sarcasm and spite. Whatever your socio-religious trip is, this is NOT the season for animosity.

So, as promised, here's my wish:

Peace. Out.