I have been putting off hauling out the Christmas decorations.

I justified the delay to myself by saying that it is rather pointless, especially when I will just have to take them all down again in a month.

I asked myself: Was it really worth rooting through boxes and boxes of gimcrack that have never made their way to our tree or our entryway or our mantle or in all those out-of-the-way places where "something Christmasy" could be placed?

Do we owe it to our wives to fill up our house with glitter and glimmer so that guys like me have to hire a Sherpa guide to lead us to our easy chairs?

Before I am consigned to the list of anti-Christmas married men, let me say that I am no Ebenezer Scrooge, nor am I one of those stupid Dr. Seuss characters that "stole Christmas." 

I am just an old man who's seen enough Christmases to know that much of what we do has no place on the "reasonableness scale." 

Christmas activity/projects are in a class by itself. I have no sugarplums dancing in my head. I barely have room for all the detritus of daily life that forces its way into my short-term memory, let alone finding space for the yuletide fantasies of my youth. It must be said, however, that I fully understand that the average person can justify firing up the Christmas spirit machine, especially those who have small children and those oldsters with grandchildren. I get it.

Christmas -- at least the commercial Christmas -- is for the children.

I am on their side, but I want somebody to cut me some slack and try to understand that at this point in my life I feel that every day is Christmas when I am able to roll out of bed, open my eyes and realize that I am still in the land of the living.

I guess that makes me more of a Thanksgiving fellow at heart. And if that's the case, so be it. I'm happy to live with that. Every day above ground is a gift.

On the subject of artificial Christmas trees versus live trees. I come down on the side of the plastic ones, especially after having lugged my share of evergreens from a Christmas tree lot to the car and from the car to the house, leaving a trail of pine needles all over the carpet (which, of course, I am required to clean up because I am "the man of the house"). It's another project that can be eliminated with a fake tree, so I vote for that.

I am now living in Scandinavia where Christmas starts early and finishes late.

As of this writing, the Danes are already deep in the throes of planning for their many days off. Their first holiday is Christmas eve, which many celebrate by going to nighttime church services (about 70% of the Danes actually belong to the state church, the folkekirke but only a fraction of them actually attend any church service during the year).

They do get a big kick out of their Christmas church service, though.

That same evening, they open their presents, and the next day and the day after and the day after that are devoted to eating and drinking and drinking and eating – a favorite Danish and pan-Scandinavian pastime.

Again, I fully understand why they go all-out for Christmas.

There are two basic reasons: the first is family, and the second is the weather.

Re: family, I must give the Danes credit for managing relationships. Many of them are either divorced or separated from their "significant others." The percentage of Danes who live together without being married is around 20%, but that figure is much higher for younger Danes.

That said, there are many children who, in addition to having a father and mother, have a stepfather or stepmother and must be parceled off to an estranged parent's house for the holidays. Some even make the rounds to their "exes" homes and have no problem being together despite divorces. These are the pragmatic Danes. I daresay this would be a challenge back in the old U.S. of A. for many men and women who have split the sheets and gone their separate ways under less than amicable circumstances.

There have been some changes in Denmark since my 20-year absence. The lunches and dinners are a bit shorter than the customary 3-4 hours sitting at the table. This is because the Danes have given up smoking which has shortened the length of their mealtimes.

"Smoke breaks" gave everybody a chance to get up and stretch their legs or take a much-needed pause from shoveling herring, eel or pâté down their alimentary canal. It took time to smoke even a little cigar, but now that "sexist" (male-ascribed) act of cigar-smoking has become a victim of the new age of Scandinavian-style Calvinism. You know what I mean, don't you: That which feels good must be bad.

I for one am glad that John Calvin is dead. I know that the Danish king, Christian VI, was a proponent of Calvin's teachings of personal piety, moral discipline, scriptural devotion and sobriety and restraint in lifestyles, but that was then, back in the 17th and 18th century when Denmark was a highly divided society. Thank heavens the Danish lower class had beer and aquavit (potato schnapps) to take the edge off.

That second reason I mentioned was the weather. Denmark is a relatively temperate place. It makes up for that by presenting the Danes with one of the absolute worst European climates that is characterized by grayness, wind and drizzling rain for days and weeks on end. The Danes know this is coming, every year, and that is why they light so many candles in the winter and why every Danish house has a dozen or more lamps to offset the early sunsets and the dark, dreary nights where the stars cannot be seen unless you're on a jetliner at 30,000 feet. Nobody moves to Denmark for the weather, but as every Dane knows, that, too, will change in time. You just have to psych yourself up for it.

I have been accused of being a curmudgeon, and if I am to be brutally honest with myself, I will have to plead guilty. I know that it is one thing to be set in your ways. It is another thing altogether to allow your ways to shape your identity. I am still grappling with how to square that circle. I do not feel alone in my efforts, however. I am heartened by the fact that squaring a circle was a problem that fascinated mathematicians for over 2,000 years and it wasn’t until 1882 that a German mathematician proved it was mathematically impossible.

Maybe I'll just try to take the edge off of whatever geometric shape represents my current state of mind this Christmas and try to remember that our lives are comprised of many repetitive acts, and that some of them are worth repeating if for no other reason than to show our loved ones that they are loved. Merry Christmas.

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