This is the holiday season.

Off the top of my head, I’ll take a wild guess that it’s the period between the fourth Thursday in November and the first of January. In that five or so week timeframe, we have three actual holidays. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Years. That is if we take the term “holiday” literally as a day off from work. My handy dictionary app also says these days off are “festive” days. In other words, they are cause for celebration, other than the fact we can sleep in or have some delightful discretionary time.

Before we retired, I really looked forward to this period as one who worked very hard, even though I was grateful for my job and generally really enjoyed what I did while working. In the schools of course, we got extended holidays, although as an administrator they weren’t as lengthy as teachers received. Regardless, in the cycle of my former profession, this five week stretch was always extremely welcome.

But, whether we working people or students get long breaks or extra long weekends or whatever paid vacation our employers provide on top of the three national holidays, I think most of us choose to honor the festive side of things, as well. Most, not all, enjoy a celebration and all it entails. Getting together with family and friends, probably lots of food and some drink, decorations, laughter, the giving and getting of gifts and so on. As it’s a season, this period is very different from the other holidays we celebrate as a nation and culture: Martin Luther King Day, Presidents Day, Easter, Memorial Day, Independence Day and Veterans Day. Those one-offs are nice if we don’t have to work and maybe get to have a BBQ, a short ski trip, or the prospect of just a four day work week. But, they don’t produce a season or anything like the five week stretch we’re in right now.

Why am I bringing this up?

Because as much as I liked the holidays or paid vacations while a student or employed and as much as I am grateful that our children and friends working hard get some well-earned time off, I don’t want to lose sight of the reason we’re celebrating. The reason we decorate our homes, cook delicious meals, gather with family and friends, share gifts and good cheer. While each of these things is immensely worthy on its own … goodness, parties with friends and loved ones can be great! … we can easily gloss over the point of the thing in the first place. And, maybe it’s just me, but that’s kind of sad.

Memorial Day is a case in point.

As the son of a Marine Corps pilot and WWII veteran, married to the daughter of an Air Force pilot and veteran, I always respected the sacrifice so many have made on my behalf. While I have not always agreed with the reasons they were sent to die, I never diminished the value of what they did. Then, I became principal of Grossmont High School.

Very shortly after I arrived as the new principal, I met a man lovingly nicknamed Little Eddie. Little Eddie was maybe 5 feet tall, certainly not much more. He might have weighed 90 pounds. In his 80s. I don’t think he had any teeth. He had retired from the US Navy as a master chief and had become a custodian at the school where he served faithfully for many decades. When he retired, he still came every day in his same tan work outfit and putzed around the campus doing small odd jobs that helped keep a school built in 1922 half way functioning. I believe he was the second person to arrive each day at work. I was usually the first, around 6am, opening the front office. My first task was to make the coffee for some of our office staff. The pot sat outside my office on a counter. Little Eddie would arrive 5 or 10 minutes later, take a sip of the fresh brew and cackle out with no teeth: “This has to be the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted!” I always joined him in laughter. This was repeated every single day without fail. I grew to love the man and he grew to love me.

Little Eddie was a Pearl Harbor survivor. He was right there when it started and he emerged alive, serving the rest of the war on surface ships. Thankfully, he made it through while many he knew did not.

At some point in the month before Memorial Day, Little Eddie told me that it was a tradition that he always put on his dress uniform and stood at attention next to the flagpole where students arrived to school on the Friday before the long Memorial Day weekend. I was moved by this dedication. Upon reflection, I shared an idea with him and he agreed. I asked our Band Director to lend me his top trumpeter. So, on that Friday morning, after Little Eddie had been standing straight at attention in his perfect uniform, resplendent with ribbons and with about 5 or 10 minutes before the bell to start school, I went on the public address system to invite people to join us at the flagpole. The trumpeter played taps as we lowered the flag to half staff. I know Little Eddie shed some tears as did many of us. And, as the first class convened, I went back on the public address system and spoke to the students and staff about why were going to be taking Monday off and asked them to join me in a moment of silence.

In the following years, we invited all staff who had served to join us at the flagpole, wearing their uniforms if they could still fit. 🙂 We even had some parents. If you have ever heard taps played for someone you love, you never forget it. Little Eddie, ramrod straight, was as poignant a reminder as we could have on why we had a holiday. He died a few years after I left Grossmont High School. Rest in Peace, Master Chief Edward DeCoito. I miss you.

Which brings me back to the season we’re in right now. A couple of weeks ago, we celebrated the first of the three days that bracket “The Holidays.”

During his first term as president, George Washington called for an official day of prayer and thanksgiving. Thomas Jefferson opposed it due to his belief in the separation of church and state. The idea remained relatively dormant until October 3, 1863 when Abraham Lincoln announced that the fourth Thursday in November would always be celebrated as an official Thanksgiving. It has remained so.

Perhaps it’s because the older I get, the more I feel I have to be grateful for. Or maybe it’s something else. Diane and I officially give thanks each night as we hold hands before dinner. Guests to our home never seem to mind participating. We also pause in the same way while eating out. It’s just important to us that we bow our heads at least once a day and express some things we’re truly grateful for, recognizing that they are really gifts. These are not really perfunctory words, but hopefully heart felt. Ideally, we similarly pause at various points throughout each day to give thanks for things large and small that we receive as blessings. So, of course, I appreciate that we can label one of our 365 days as Thanksgiving.

But, what is happening? I don’t think I heard the term “Turkey Day” ten years ago. Now, it’s ubiquitous. Why? I guess it’s just a cute little cultural shift but words carry meaning and important words carry significant meaning. A day that most of us have always consumed turkey by tradition is now becoming defined by that bird and meal. The president pardons the turkey … all in fun … we feast gladly on the bounty. Many of us have our traditional group of friends and family and I always look forward to the celebration.

Am I making a mountain out of a mole hill? Should I just roll with the punch and not flinch when I hear Turkey Day time after time? Maybe so. But, I really do want a holiday where we give thanks and not just a quick comment but a chance to connect with loved ones on a deeper level to share the things we’re truly grateful for. Now, that is Thanksgiving. Then, let’s go eat some turkey.

Next, of course, Christmas.

Lord, we do give you thanks. Please help us to recognize the many ways we are blessed each day. Yes, we have struggles and challenges and sometimes we call on you to resolve them. Sometimes we don’t much feel like giving thanks. And, that’s why we need help. And, some of that help can be in the form of opening our eyes to the needs of others every day in every circumstance. Wouldn’t it be great if another person was so brightened by a chance exchange with us that they gave a kind of thanks? I think so. Amen.