“Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light.”
— Hugh Martin/Ralph Blane
Is there such a thing as a “little Christmas?” Can you be a Christmas minimalist while still decorating, shopping, baking, and going to parties and events?
Growing up, my family was solidly middle class. We had enough to get by, with some room for occasional extras. I know now that Christmas was always a bit of a financial struggle for my parents. Despite that, they both loved the holiday and wanted it to be the biggest and best part of the year for my brother and me. It always was, too.
Even the year my dad got laid off right after we moved into a new house, we still had that magical moment of seeing a pile of presents under our shiny, aluminum tree with the spinning color disc. I miss that tree — they are highly collectible now and can go for hundreds of dollars at vintage and antique stores.
Fun fact: the trees were wildly popular in the 1950s and ’60s; however, when the special “A Charlie Brown Christmas” premiered in December of 1965, sales of the big, bright silver trees plummeted. The minimalist approach to the holiday was first given a platform by Charlie, Snoopy, and the rest of the Peanuts gang when they gathered around a tiny tree, wrapping it in a blanket to keep it safe.
Still, when you say to someone, “Oh, we are doing a small Christmas this year,” many look at you like you’re either on your last dime or the biggest Grinch ever. It’s Christmas, and even if you don’t have a religious tie to it, who goes all Marie Kondo on Christmas? How do you not get joy-sparked by a 9-foot tree, five cartons of ornaments, and more lights than a Vegas casino?
Is there a gene I am missing? What in my DNA makes me cringe at the thought of dragging out all that gear? Is there something inherently wrong with wanting a tabletop tree and a fake wreath on the door to be the full extent of my decorating? I’m not a Scrooge; I love the holiday, and when my kids were little, I was all in.
I had a Lego Nativity because my kids liked it; I put up scads of colored lights and laid under the Christmas tree at nine months pregnant, shoving a sap-covered tree trunk that I think was part sequoia into a rusty stand. I’ve paid my dues, and quite frankly, I’m over it.
For me, it’s time to take it down a notch. My kids are grown, so Christmas is a different kind of celebration now than it used to be. They might be adults (technically), but they no longer need me to show them the reindeer footprints in the yard — they know Santa is real. They don’t have to go to bed early on Christmas Eve, but we all still track the jolly old elf on NORAD. We aren’t dialing down the magic, just the materials. It’s about the little things this year.
Our living room is basking in the glow of a 3-foot-tall tree with barely a dozen lights on it. There is no creepy elf on any shelf, and I did not stock the front lawn with inflatables. Instead, I have some greenery around the house, cinnamon sticks and cloves tossed in bowls, and the Christmas bell my brother and I would ring every year on Christmas morning, right next to our parents’ heads, usually before the sun was up. I don’t know how they didn’t kill us just for that.
It might be more “Silent Night” than “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” at our house these days, but it’s still a magical time. After all, like another song says, “We need a little Christmas, right this very minute,” so that’s my plan: minimal fuss, maximum fun. From our house to yours, however you celebrate this time of year, may it be all you want — more or less.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years, and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.