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Why I’m the Recession Grinch

Christmas at my house last year featured a fragrant spruce, an occasional snowy view out the back window, and a killer holiday party decked out in subtle but elaborate ribbons, bows, candy canes and such. Santa showed up. So did about 50 people — all of whom I served wine and extensive hors d’oeuvres. And who were greeted warmly by a paid coat check guy who proffered parting gifts on their way out. It probably cost me, all told, about $300 or $400, or more (there are always accoutrements, darling, that also must be purchased).

Of course, I can’t remember exactly how much it cost, because it didn’t matter so much. It wasn’t precisely reckless spending; it was intentional spending, with the intention being to host a swell party where everyone had a fabulous time. And they did! I’m sure if there had been a competition, I would have won Hostess of the Year. I am happy to provide testimonials.

Last Christmas, “the recession” was entertaining holiday chatter about the change underway – ‘change can be fun!‘ This year, what will we talk about?

It’s kind of crazy looking back on it, for reasons that are so shockingly obvious now: I was still employed, but not gainfully, since I had been informed at the end of October that my job would go missing by February 2009. I was intimately aware, through my work as a business journalist, that a strong recession was underway, fueled by the blazing fire of the financial crisis that continued to spark fear and panic on Wall Street and Main Street. And that things were not likely to look very good for awhile. And, for god’s sakes, I was in the midst of planning a site called Recessionwire! What more proof did I need then to know it was already time to hunker down? Instead, the recession was entertaining holiday chatter about the change underway – change can be fun! – ohhh, the interesting anthropological aspects; ah, the exciting drama unfolding for us journalists to cover. Hurrah, bring on this new frontier! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Perhaps it was the Last Hurrah. This year, please turn off that holiday music, it rings so hollow (even creepy), especially when accompanied by upbeat nudges to plunk down twenty grand or so for a new car with a ribbon on top. Things are not looking better, not yet, and I don’t say that just because our site happens to be called Recessionwire. Indeed, holidays are meant to be when people come together in good cheer whether times are good or bad; heck, Irving Berlin wrote “White Christmas” in the dark days of 1942, when the U.S. was fully engaged in World War II and many families were split apart. But I, for one, just ain’t feeling it in these tough times.

I’m sorry to be such a Grinch. I’m personally doing pretty well—my income exceeds my expenses, though neither is as flush or lush as a year ago this time; that’s fine, I’ve been lucky enough not to have to make any great sacrifices.

But the surroundings are not so inspiring and it’s not just the unemployment figures that keep creeping up or the restaurants and shops that close. It’s all that plus the bailouts that bailed out Wall Street but not Main Street; programs like Cash for Clunkers that were so bungled; the American Recovery Capital that’s not exactly flowing into the small businesses that need it. I’d like to continue to keep the collective eye on the ball: fix this mess. So I’m not in the mood for celebrating just yet.

I look forward to next year, though, when I expect to return to the usual: A rabid Christmaholic, I eagerly anticipate the moment I can begin playing the 150-song Christmas rotation on my iPod. I wait until it’s not too kooky to string the lights and put up holiday decorations from my boxes and bags and bags that are stored away 10 months of the year (okay, 9.5 months; sometimes, 9). I deck myself out in a Santa hat and even put reindeer ears on my dog when it’s time for the party (she hates it).

I will delight again and become energized when the city lights up in holiday style. I am terrible at sending out Christmas cards, but I will again make a point of hosting or compelling a holiday gathering. And around Christmas Day, at my parents’ house, we will once again play and sing holiday music for hours on end. (It’s all slightly embarrassing, I’m aware.)

I won’t have a holiday party this year (sorry, folks), because it seems just so silly. Extravagant. Over the top. And what will we talk about at the parties? How half the guests (or more, since I work in media) were laid off this year, or freelancers’ incomes dropped by at least half, with no great solutions on the horizon? Oh joy. Can I really bring myself to spend $10-$15/bottle to ease some of that pain? Unwise. And Santa? He had a baby, so he won’t be showing up. Neither will I.

Tags: Christmas, holidays, recession