SURREY — Each year, I find myself trying to catch up to Christmas.
Growing up, my mom’s belief system meant we didn’t do Christmas, save a few years when we visited grandma and grandpa’s house over the holidays.
It was only when I moved out that Christmas started to mean something.
So, understandably, I learn something new each year.
For example, it was only last year that I came to fully appreciate the ritual of the outdoor lights display, and all the joys and satisfaction that come with it (not to mention the scrapes and bruises that come with falling off the ladder).
This time around, I learned something about Christmas music.
You see, Christmas in my house got started early this year, perhaps in a subconscious effort to make up for all the missed holidays of my youth. By the end of November, the lights were up, the decorations were out and the tree was up.
And, in the spirit of trying something new, the Christmas music played.
I have always just tolerated Christmas music but this season, I decided to immerse myself in it to get in the spirit nice and early.
Ready to give it a try, I locked my stereo on 103.5 FM in my Jeep and off I went.
For the first week, I enjoyed it. Everywhere I drove, it was on. Even when songs came on that usually drive me crazy, I resisted the temptation to turn the station.
But by the second week, I started to twitch.
“How many different versions of the same song are there, anyway,” I asked myself.
Instead, I just listened as the Jackson 5 belted out “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” – which really confused me because the Jackson parents were members of the same religion my mom was.
By Week 3, all was lost.
By then, not even the snow could salvage what little patience I had left for the tunes of Christmas.
I found myself waking up in the wee hours of the morning, unable to sleep as “And So This is Christmas” played over and over again in my head.
I was ready to tap out.
No more, I silently begged.
No more Mariah Carey.
No more Buble.
No more Springsteen.
And please, for the love of all that is holy, no more McCartney.
Click on this, I dare. I DARE YOU!
(That Christmas tune is quite possibly the worst song ever recorded – I challenge anyone to name one worse.)
As with anything, it seems Christmas music is all about moderation. If you start too early, there’s no way you’re going to last until the end – at least not without stabbing your eardrums out with a sharpened candy cane.
You see? I’m learning.
Beau Simpson is editor of the Now. You can email him at firstname.lastname@example.org