I spent the best part of my adult life, with Mrs B, living and working on the island of Jersey. Not New Jersey, but the original Jersey in the Channel Islands, just 45 square miles in size. It is not part of the United Kingdom, but is a self-governing British Crown dependency.
At the outbreak of WW2, Churchill made it abundantly clear that the islands were not worth defending. As a result, Jersey and its sister islands of Guernsey and Alderney, were occupied by German forces for almost all of WW2.
It is difficult to describe just how increasingly harsh conditions became during those five lingering years. Towards the end, both occupiers and the occupied were facing starvation.
So, we can imagine just how joyous a day it was when on May 9th 1945, a British troop ship arrived in the morning to liberate the islanders from those five years of Nazi rule. Liberation Day will forever be the most significant date in the Jersey calendar, and in my work for the BBC there, I felt privileged to report from the annual celebrations and commemorations for over two decades. It included interviewing residents who went through that terrible ordeal; it was always a humbling experience for me.
On a personal level, the date that most pops into my head during the year is our wedding anniversary. With a huge amount of luck, determination, a following wind, and an immense chunk of love thrown in for good measure, Mrs B and I celebrated our golden wedding earlier this year.
March 3rd, 1973, at 3 o’clock, with three bridesmaids has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?
The most important date in my calendar
I know, I know, I supposed to write about my daughter’s birthday or some such thing. Perhaps a Thanksgiving meal with family in a warm home. Nope, I’m on a one-person crusade against stupid Christmas.
Yes, I just said that. See, over the years I have come to dislike Christmas. It’s the biggest holiday in my country and for me, that’s the problem. I’m just over it. In the United States, the stores start putting out Christmas stuff in October. Before Halloween, before Thanksgiving, it’s just too much! By December First, Christmas music is the only damn thing on the radio. I hate it!
I remember when I was a kid, the stores waited until the day after Thanksgiving to start Christmas and I’m good with that. But hell no; today we have big Christmas sales on Thanksgiving Day. They force these underpaid employees to come to work on the very day they are supposed to be with family, giving thanks.
Given my poor attitude, you’ll not be surprised to learn that I find Christmas in an Islamic country refreshing. Some Christmas decorations and decorated trees are in most businesses but no over the top BS. These folks understand Christmas better than the Christians. I know they do it just to be polite to the foreigners and I appreciate it. Gee, kindness towards others instead of greed. I’ll repeat myself: Muslims understand Christmas better than Christians.
Don’t even start with “put Christ back into Christmas.” The Catholic Church knew what they were doing when they dropped Christmas into the middle of harvest festival. The harvest festivals were always about celebrating the end of the season. As I understand, the Romans took their census in July and the Catholic Church knew it. If you had mentioned Christmas to George Washington, he would have known what you were talking about. In fact, there was even a Christmas Tree in Mount Vernon. But, Twelfth Night was the reason for the season and that was what Christians celebrated.
So, let’s all sing along to something we don’t even understand: “On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me; five golden rings!” The fifth day of Christmas? Here’s an idea: why don’t we steal, in Christ name, all the old carols from Twelfth Night? In fact, why don’t we get hammered and make a pass at the receptionist during something called a Christmas Party? You celebrate Twelfth Night on January fifth and stop trying to manipulate me with your Church of The Living Walmart crap. Shakespeare never wrote a play named Christmas; it’s Twelfth Night. I don’t like the most important date in my calendar.
The most important day in my calendar
It wouldn’t be too unique for a Russian to say that New Year’s Day is the day for me.
This is by far the biggest holiday in Russia, as the whole country is getting ready for it weeks ahead.
In fact, Christmas is the next best thing if we look West as it is the biggest holiday there, and in many other countries around the world as well.
We have our Orthodox Christmas, celebrated on January 7, according to the Julian calendar, still used by the Russian church. It used to be the #1 holiday in old Russia. However, all the ‘religious’ holidays were prohibited after the Bolshevik revolution. Still, people needed something big in wintertime. This is how the Christmas celebration tradition in Russia transformed into the New Year celebration. Deduct the religious context, and here we go more of the same. Happy New Year!
As a child, I remember the magic of the holiday, the Grandpa Frost (Santa Clause); plus waiting for the New Year gifts under the Christmas tree. Well, we call it ‘the New Year spruce’, but there’s no difference, actually. At the age of eight, I concluded that Grandpa Frost didn’t exist, and it bothered me. This fact dispirited me.
Still, the vibes of the New Year celebration kept on shining well into my teenage and older years. As I travel through life, I plan to keep this magic until my last New Year’s Day.
P.S. In Sitka, Alaska, formerly known as New Archangel, the capital of Russian America, there’s a souvenir shop near the Orthodox St. Michael’s cathedral, which is a local landmark. It is called Grandpa Frost.