A couple of Yuletides ago I tried to drum up support for a “new” holiday that would more fully address the needs of our time than some tired old story about a magical kid being born in a barn. I christened it Empowerment Day and waited for it to take off like a dysfunctional Soyuz rocket.
Of course it merely farted like a sick Yorkshire Terrier and then imploded of its own worthlessness – but the idea of a fresh, more contemporary celebration stuck with me, and I am ready to try it again.
If the new endeavor ends as badly as the last one, who cares? The whole point of this holiday is to use it as a vehicle to justify my failure to ever get any of my nephews and nieces a present, a card, or even a phone call on the two most important days of their lives: Christmas and Birthdays. (No, Confirmations and Graduations don’t count.)
Yeah! I am stoked!
I do get my kids Christmas and Birthday presents of course, but they are here with me in AZ, and, try as I can, I just can’t seem to avoid them.
But the Sibling offspring (some of whom I successfully waited out by allowing them to become adults, thus removing them from my “I should really get them something this year” consciousness), have been a consistent problem for me – until now.
I know this may sound a bit defensive, but for the record, it’s not my fault that they all live far far to the north in Uberville, Ohio. If they were down here and I saw them once in awhile, I might remember their names and dates of birth and not just see them as an annonymous jumble of “how old are they now?”, or, “is it Sarah or Suzie, anyway?”
It doesn’t help that Christmas (which is easy to remember, I will admit) involves going to the Post office and mailing them stuff because that proves you care enough to actually go somewhere and pick something out and send it, unlike shopping online with Amazon or wherever and just drop-shipping them a cardboard picture-book or what-not.
But the thought of actually going to the Post Office creates internal tension bordering on psychosis for me, yeah, go ahead and laugh, but it’s like climbing a 700-foot high obstacle course at Marine Corps boot camp, and then you add all the tense and irritable customers and the sleepy and indolent Government employees into the mix, and what do you have?
Something that needs to be avoided at all costs.
Birthdays are a bit more complicated, and all I can say is time flies and, sorry, I have a busy life. And wasn’t it just little Conner’s birthday a few months ago?
So “Bir-Mas” (from the Ancient German Bier-Day, which later degenerated into Birthday in the English tongue, and the Spanish Mas, which is one-half of the phrase “no more”, as in Roberto Duran’s famous abdication of his greatness in that Sugar Ray Leonard fight) is the perfect antidote to remembering dates and having to slog through holiday traffic.
It is also more flexible than an “Anytime Miles” credit card from Capital One - and you get double points, too!
Here’s how it works: You only have to give the little nippers one gift one time per year. That’s right! And you can give that present any damn time you feel like it! The young’uns love it because they never know when they might find something in the mailbox, and they also know they will always get “valuex2″: Since they are only getting that one gift a year, Uncle Johnny makes sure he doubles up the amount spent – what better treat than that for any kid stuck in the brutal reality of today’s troubled economy?
I must say it will be a lot easier to go the the Post Office this time knowing that I won’t have to do anything more until I feel like it. In fact I am going in just a few hours with a very good friend of mine, who happens to absolutely adore the entire Birmas concept – and is Dree-tastic and Dree-tacular besides – but that is a whole other story, LOL.
I just hope Mom will understand when she doesn’t get anything – I’m still working through that part of the plan.
Have a Merry and Happy Birmas, everyone!