Oh, sure. Now "political correctness" (otherwise known as inclusion) demands not only Happy Holiday greetings but constant acknowledgments of diversity during the month of December. Not so when ash was a child, when it really mattered. The following was written just before Christmas of 2004.
"So whose Christmas are you glomming onto this year?" I joke to my mother.
She chuckles. "Actually, there is a family nearby, you don't know them, they moved in long after you left. They invited us for the weekend before, to exchange a few gifts and eat a few snacks."
I sympathize, while I'm long past that stage. My first Christmas tree was in college; by the time I was out of my first marriage the celebration-in-your-own-home novelty had worn off. Becoming an agnostic further dampened the incentive; secular humanism furnished its own moral code.
I don't believe in organized religion; growing up Jewish was an ethnic experience and rather tough. Though my parents hand-picked residence in a section of Chicago where Jews comprised a whopping 90% - the day before a Jewish holiday the school bus driver would routinely summon mothers along his route to compile a list of which kids to bypass the next day - there was no insulation from the larger community beyond our immediate environment when the Christmas season arrived. And I do mean Christmas. In the years before "politically correct" was invented, we were blasted from every region of the nation by everything from elaborate decorations even in our local stores to wall-to-wall TV specials during the preceding weeks.
"Merry Christmas" was ubiquitous. It was inescapable and there was no alternative. In response to the intrusion I learned ignoring, bemusement, resentment, and indignation. None of it worked. I wanted to participate and I was lucky. Though my grandparents had immigrated from Mother Russia to escape persecution, though both my parents had fought in World War II, they were well aware that their children harbored no such wariness of encroachment upon their Jewish identity. We felt deprived so they appeased us. Every year, my father drove us to an affluent Christian neighborhood where we ambled up and down streets, pausing at intervals to behold the brilliant lights and magnificent displays on veritable mansions and spacious lawns before returning to our sensory-deprived home turf. It was something and we appreciated it.
In the suburbs, where I moved in 5th grade, my father continued the borrow-a-neighborhood tradition while my mother began graciously accepting invitations to grab bag exchanges hosted by the Catholic family on our block. We were among a 60% majority now, and I felt grateful and awed the Christmas morning we floated across the street to breathe in tree fumes and marvel at the hundreds of cards taped along the wall as our benefactors opened their gifts.
This, for me, was Christmas: not strictly forbidden but severely restricted. In spite of my parents' relatively permissive policy (other families treated Christmas like the plague), I was frustrated during childhood, when I cared, when to tread over the line was to insult one's heritage; now that I don't care I am included by virtue of my adult family. My half-Episcopalean children celebrate, my Protestant boyfriend celebrates, as do his relatives and our friends. Neither being greeted by nor reciprocating "Merry Christmas" offends me, though rarely do I volunteer it and it always seems the tiniest bit awkward.
Currently, it is alleged, Christmas is under siege. The secularization of society and sanitization of Christmas are perpetuated by a small but militant conglomerate of liberals, Jews, and Jewish liberals. The accusation intrigues me. Secularization and sanitization are two separate matters. While Irving Berlin did write the lovely and haunting but secular Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, don't blame him for Rudolph, Jingle Bells (most certainly not the noxious doggie version), and other seasonal atrocities assaulting purist ears in bank lines and grocery stores. More to the point, these non-religious, frivolous songs demean Christmas as my parents would have dishonored my ancestors by allowing so much as mistletoe in our house. That's secularization, as are (pagan) trees and Santa Claus himself, who, to my knowledge, never mentions Jesus. These customs and many more cheapen the "holy" in "holiday," for which Jews and other outsiders are not responsible.
As for the sanitization of Christmas, the recently-mandated "Happy Holidays" in some department stores strikes me as overly cautious and very late to the game. While the slogan encompasses Christmas, Christmas overwhelms the entire month of December. Personally, I'd like to see signs proclaiming, "Merry Christmas and Happy Other Holidays Which May Apply To You." They'd take up a lot of space but they'd be worth the compromise, satisfying as many people as possible.
Finally, my advice to Christians: go to church, and not just on Christmas. Pray on your own. Say grace at the dinner table. Conversely, buy fewer presents, hang fewer ornaments, set out fewer candelabras, and indulge in fewer manifestations of commercialism. Say "Merry Christmas" to anyone and everyone, because you celebrate, and if the other person doesn't, the other person can reply accordingly.
Above all, have YOURSELF a very Merry Christmas.