Fairytale Of New York – The Pogues
Christmas is a borderlands between memory and imagination. It is a time for reminiscence, for thoughts about those who have passed, for simple mornings full of wonder and anticipation.
It’s a beautiful day because it allows us to look backwards on our past selves: who were straining desperately against the bonds of time to push forward into the great unknown. Having now traversed that space, we could so easily turn a cynical eye on the whole thing. There is so much pain to come, so much ill-understood. The innocence of that past joy could be darkened by wizened understanding.
But the beauty of human beings is that we can somehow escape that spiral. There is something outside of the terrible dialectic of nostalgia (sophomoric and insipid) and cynicism (nihilistic and cold). Where pain that lies ahead is accepted, without allowing that knowledge to dull the memory of our hopefulness.
Merry Happy, everyone.
I suppose your thesis explains why Cubs fans believe every day is like Christmas.
The Pogues were one of my favorite bands when I was in grad school. Saw them live a few times in the 80’s in Michigan. One night, they played at Todd’s, which was a small, old-school punk bar in Detroit. Shane let Joe Strummer come up on stage and play a few Clash songs.