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Bus One Seven: Holiday Check-Up
Is Santa Claus real? Take a ticket, kid...
by Roderick Armageddon

Last evening I noticed I was paying especially close attention to my tooth brushing just prior to skipping off to bed. Yes, I often skip off to bed. I'm not sure why it had gone unnoticed in the past, but at just that moment I took note of the fact that I was executing my tooth care with an unprecedented vigor, being especially thorough with my molars and gums. Every little notch and shadow was a target for inquisition. There was such intensity in my brushing, I couldn't help but wonder what type of image David Lynch would've pulled from the episode had he been perched on the toilet behind me. It's as if I was prepping for my final checkup before exiting into the great unknown, attempting to make up for decades of poor hygiene. But that wasn't the case.

This isn't the first time I've noticed my obsessions, it's just the first time they've caught me off guard, forcing me to reexamine my intentions. Now I was looking at my thorough behavior through a much different, more critical lens. It makes me wonder just when and how it is that behaviors, or customs, advance enough to become something more, something greater than themselves, something timeless: traditions.

The words habit and tradition are very closely tied in their definitions, yet semantically, they're worlds apart. Heading to grandma's for Thanksgiving dinner is a tradition, but there's a good chance that it's just as much a habit. Where else would you go? You've been slurping gravy at granny's casa for 16 years, why stop now? Standing clad in orange goldfish-emblazoned boxers, scrubbing away at my pearly whites, I came to a conclusion: If executed with enough passion or vigor, behaviors and personal customs will inherently become habit, then routine, possibly obsession, then compulsion, and, ultimately (possibly), tradition. With winter quickly approaching and boxer-only season coming to an abrupt halt, my theory found traction in America's greatest shared traditions: Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Suddenly I felt myself being carried back to Christmas mornings on the frozen tundra of Southeast Idaho. Back to those chilly holiday mornings highlighted by high-impact sledding, ice-encrusted Sorels and yellow snow. Tradition! It's a significant part of our lives and built on a foundation of habits and routines -- such as the unending desire to throw water-dipped snowballs at cars over Christmas vacation; and distributing mom's thirty-pound holiday fruitcakes throughout the neighborhood. .

I had just developed a new theory as to where the road to tradition begins. The road from a little town I was just discovering - a little town called Habit. With the holidays approaching, and now that I had discovered the root of tradition, I just might be able to find out "why" we accept the roles given to us by tradition.

For example, why is it we never question holiday traditions? How is it people trudge blindly through a myriad of winter festivities, never questioning why? Do we all assume everyone’s on the same page?

By not subscribing to any religious faith, I lack the foundation that makes today's holiday hodgepodge a reasonable exercise in time management. Unless you’re Christian, there’s not an ounce of reason to back up the glee associated with a majority of the activities that make up Thanksgiving and Christmas. Even if you are, there still doesn’t seem to be any logic behind the festivities. To me, the holidays are little more than a colorful, entertaining time to pack yourself full of turkey, plop on the couch and watch football and Jimmy Stewart until January 2nd.

I'm yearning for justification for the habits of the holidays. I want justification for tradition. I don't want to hear the story of Christ; I want to know the reason behind Santa’s relationship with the NFL. Why do we give thanks by stuffing ourselves well past the limits of elastic? Why do we staple colored lights to our eaves and hang glistening balls on dead conifers? Why do we sing about skating snowmen and supernatural reindeer? Why? Am I the only one questioning the holidays?

Alas, after a great deal of searching I have developed little more than a richer bed of questions. There is little reasoning behind holiday traditions to satisfy my hunger for logical explanation. Like the Grinch, I suppose the experience should be appreciated quite simply for what it is. Perhaps I should take a note from the wise old Doctor.

As a child I thrived on holiday traditions; I just never took the time to question them. As Christmas rolls around I still crave the sense of fulfillment that rushes through the air when a fat man in a fake beard and red pajamas smiles at a child, passing a glistening candy cane to their icy little digits. Is it the holiday traditions that do it or is it something more? I can't quite put my finger on it, but I like the sensation. I’m definitely no more faithful in God, but when I hear carolers chirping merrily out of tune and see children choked by their woolen scarves, I can't help but feel good about the world. I just might consider rekindling my childhood faith in the holidays. It will probably serve me better to simply wrap the presents and eat the cheese ball instead of wasting away the holiday glee questioning why. The calendar has twelve months... I suppose I can suspend my cynicism for at least two.

Did someone say eggnog?