Merry Christmas, bicycle man!

It's that time of year again; mall traffic, sugary treats, commercials and advertisements talking about the newest gadgets and why we have to have them, and the threat that a fat guy with a beard won't commit mass home invasions while we sleep to give us said gadgets if we've been naughty.

I'm not here to preach to anyone what "the real meaning of Christmas" is, but this year was the best example of what the most stripped-down version of such a potentially commercial holiday is really about. Some of you know that my dad has abandoned our family. For the record, I'm not going for pity points here, no one liked him anyway and we're all better off. It's left me to spend the day with the only members of my family that I deem "normal," if you can call us that.

For our family in years passed, and many others across the country, Christmas morning was just the way the television portrays it, whether it's a heart-warming family special, a disfunctional foray of Griswold-like antics, or some balance of the two. This year, and perhaps like many families across the country, during such harsh economic times, there was no early morning rush down the stairs to see what Santa had left us, no gift opening ceremony, no church service, and no table with twelve place settings. Instead, it was sleeping in, enjoying a ham & egg breakfast and pot of flavored coffee with my mom, going to the movies, and not seeing my brother until he woke up at 2pm.

I had given up on going to church years ago for my own reasons. What's worse than not going at all, in my opinion, is only going on Christmas and Easter. I have come to terms with my relationship with God, and I pray anywhere and anytime. Last night, I decided to attend my own personal midnight mass by going out for a bike ride. I had noticed that the manger scenes set up at various locations were sans baby Jesus, until after Christmas day. I was curious as to who was responsible for placing Him there and when it actually took place, but by the time I made my way around town, minutes after midnight, He had already miraculously arrived. As I neared home, I passed a corner bar with a crowd of smoke-emitting youths standing out front. I kept my eyes straight and braced myself for whatever drunken insults that were about to be hurled my way, when suddenly one of them yelled out, "Merry Christmas, bicycle man!" I gave a couple flicks of my ringabell and returned his well wishes.

Something else that was out of the ordinary for our family in past Christmas traditions was that we had never gone to the movie theater, as I had found that more people than I originally thought actually participate in. Such was the case when I saw that the parking lot looked like the mall the night before. I had seen a preview for the movie "Up in the Air" and was still not quite sure what it was about, but the critics said it is the best movie of the year. Since it's still 2009, I decided it was a worthy claim, since Hollywood had 11 months to do better. It had nothing really to do with Christmas, but rather did have a large bit to do with the sad truth that thousands of Americans had lost their jobs in the last couple years, which relates to me directly. It also had a bit to do with love and relationships, and I liked the message they sent, which relates to me indirectly. I don't know about best movie of the year, but I do recommend it. It stars George Clooney, whom my grandma thinks I share a striking resemblance.

I can smell the scent of turkey and sweet potatoes rising from the kitchen, two floors below, to my old room, which used to be the attic, where I sit now at the desk that used to be mine, before the computer that now belongs to my brother. In a few minutes, I will be seated with the two members of my family that I love the most. Maybe we will lament the fact that it's just we three, but it will only be in passing as we laugh about how no one there is drunk enough to throw a plate of food like a frisbee and make everyone else at the table uncomfortable. Here's to the best Christmas ever and the only real gifts that should matter to anyone, the love for the people in our lives who matter the most to us.

Merry Christmas