Category Archives: Holiday

“Great men are not born great, they grow great…” ~ Mario Puzo, ‘The Godfather’

First and foremost, a thank you to Jaxon Layne Ilagan, and his parents Paul and Landrie, for making this year’s holiday card possible. On July 22, 2022, I became a Godfather to this beautiful baby, and he’s been a happy addition to all of our lives ever since. The bond between godfather and godson feels tenuously loose in today’s world, but back in my youth a Godfather played a major part in setting an example (and producing a magnificent gift for every birthday). I aim to bring back that bond, while continuing the fun that I’ve enjoyed with my niece and nephew. 

This card could not have been created any year prior to this. Sure, I could have grayed in my hair and struck the pose at any point, but it would have rung hollow before actually becoming a Godfather, so we have little Jaxon Layne to thank for that – the first of many thanks for enriching my life. It joins the pantheon of holiday cards that have played out over the past few decades, going all the way back to 1995. Here’s one look at some earlier holiday cards, which were far racier than a little mobster action.

And here’s another look at some previous cards, including the most controversial one I’ve ever sent out (which also happens to be my favorite of all time because I’m sick like that). Absolutely no regrets, even in this mirror-of-society card from 2018 that no one much liked or this slightly more comical one of kitchen antics in 2019. For 2020, and that tumultuous time period, I went for a warmer and more reassuring card featuring Mom and Dad, while 2021 evoked a peaceful holiday slumber.

“I don’t trust society to protect us, I have no intention of placing my fate in the hands of men whose only qualification is that they managed to con a block of people to vote for them.” ~ Mario Puzo, ‘The Godfather’

This year is another family affair, even if ‘family’ here has a slightly different meaning, and the traditional notion is implied rather than explicitly featured. I like a card that works on multiple levels, and this one is heavy on multilayered meanings. 

“He claimed that there was no greater natural advantage in life than having an enemy overestimate your faults, unless it was to have a friend underestimate your virtues.” ~ Mario Puzo, ‘The Godfather’

A semi-full list of previous cards:

• 2004: The Snow Queen
• 2005: Disco Ball Shock Jock
• 2006: Christmas Crucifixion
• 2007: Bad Dumpster Santa
• 2008: Beautiful Christmas By the Sea
• 2009: Angelic Ass
• 2010: The Wedding Card
• 2011: Uncle Al’s Radio Flyer
• 2012: Eat Your Holiday Heart Out
• 2013: The Baby Brothers Ilagan
• 2014: Let It Snow
• 2015: A Holiday Ax to Grind
• 2016: Little Baby Jesus
• 2017: Classy Condo Cheers
• 2018: Incendiary Reflection
• 2019: Bake Me a Man
• 2020: A Family Affair
• 2021: Winter Slumber

“It was not perhaps the warmest friendship in the world, they would not send each other Christmas gift greetings, but they would not murder each other.” ~ Mario Puzo, ‘The Godfather’

Maybe not the full-fledged extravaganza just yet, but a little bit.

Just to get the spirit started.

We are doing thing in smaller quieter fashion and form this year, so just a little right now. 

Listen and love it. 

The outfits.

The hair.

The energy.

The sass and verve!

This is Silver, Wood and Ivory. 

It’s coming on Christmas, and I’m trying to get into it, really I am. 

This video is an inspiration. 

I haven’t that many skin flutes in my mouth since I can’t remember when… 

We begin in even quieter form than we did last year, when we had both holly and ivy to kick off the season. Today, it’s holly alone, and we’ll have to add the ivy at a later date. Maybe it’s better to space them out a bit, to allow for a longer and more lasting season. This year it’s going to take some Herculean efforts to push me into holiday merriment, so it will be best to keep expectations low, to take in the little moments of quiet and stillness, or maybe take a few walks in the woods if the weather allows. 

Reconnecting with nature is the goal this winter. That will take some planning and work, as my habit at this time of the year is to retreat inside, replacing the daily walk around our little house with spells in the attic, or channel-surfing by the fireplace in the basement. If I put out the intent to get outside more, maybe I’ll manifest the action. Let this be an earnest intention to make the attempt. 

“The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.”

For those of us who miss attending Mass tonight, here is a video to remind you of the magic and magnificence, coupled with the simplicity and power of the reason for the season. Christmas is no longer as much about religion as it once was – it’s about something so much more. 

That expansive idea, of spirituality and a universal love, is sparked by Christmas only when we take the time to push aside the commercial circus and return to a place of purity and humanity. 

The older we grow, the darker our holidays seem to get. But even at the ripe old age of 46, I still find moments of magic and wonder, especially on this most magical night of the year. While the world anxiously awaits the explosion of gifts and wrapping and mayhem on Christmas Day, it is the supreme calm of Christmas Eve that I’ve always enjoyed more, even as a boy.

A sense of serenity imbues the calm before the storm, and in many ways there’s no greater storm than Christmas morn. Christmas Eve is that pocket of time that suddenly feels hushed, not rushed – a break in the relentless lead-up to the main event, as if the world is slowly taking a deep breath before letting all hell break loose again. 

In that quiet space and solemn time, my parents always took us to Christmas Mass, where I usually served as an altar boy. The packed crowd and their winter clothes darkened the cavernous place, lending a cozier atmosphere, one charged with the reminder of why we were all celebrating: the simple story of the birth of Jesus. A straw-laden manger, topped with evergreen boughs and twinkling lights, was populated by statues of the characters of the story – and for Christmas mass the baby Jesus finally made his miraculous appearance. 

The message of this silent evening – the appearance of the miracle of hope and goodness, of light in the darkest night – always struck through all the wish lists and frantic running around that otherwise signaled the season. It grounded me, even as a child who could have been forgiven for flying off on childish fancies. Over the years, Christmas Eve retained that stillness and silence, even if it was fleeting, even if it came saddled with the growing pains of family and life and a world that felt increasingly hostile. For this one night, everything could be peaceful, everything calm. 

On a tree spun from silver tinsel, a shiny ornament hangs. 

There, in that small space, a simple sliver of perfection sparkles and shines.

An encapsulation of Christmas, and all its purity and falseness laid bare.

A thing of beauty, purposeless but for its prettiness, as if being pretty was ever enough unto itself.

As if it wasn’t. 

Christmas divines such magic, while putting faith and trust in so few words grants them greater import than were they to get lost in a longer post.