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The pre-Christmas season often isn't as magical as one might hope. When the days grow shorter, wetter, and colder, and neither a cozy feeling nor any real excitement settles in, Christmas can feel more like the next big project–just another task to prepare, execute, and check off the list. But every now and then, that special feeling sneaks up on you, catching you by surprise–like when you’re simply searching for holiday decorations.
In the basement, I stumbled upon an old VHS player I had inherited, along with a dozen tapes. Among the inevitable Dirty Dancing and Ghostbusters, there it was: a neatly labeled recording of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol (1984). It sparked a distant memory and the impulse to lug the device up three flights of stairs and plug it in. But would the old Panasonic machine even work? Seconds later, the player roared back to life. A warm wave of retro nostalgia washed over me as the first flickering images of the film appeared on the screen.
This wasn’t Disney–no sugar coating, no unnecessary singing, no fake snow smothering every scene. Old London looked authentically modest, providing the perfect backdrop for the evening’s star: George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge! This man, who had already impressed me in the horror film The Changeling, played the miser with a dark intensity rarely seen in family films. His greed, contempt for others, and deep joylessness felt palpable. His barren apartment was cold and somber, like a mausoleum. In stark contrast stood the Cratchit family, kindhearted yet struggling to make ends meet, held together by their love for each other. Tiny Tim looked like David Bowie might have had a rough start back in kindergarten, and the meager hearth fire seemed barely enough to keep them warm during the freezing winter nights.
As the various spirits of Christmas appeared and the story pulled me entirely into its spell, much of the world around me faded into the background: the stressful year of 2024, which had been unusually busy at Ashampoo, the frantic holiday shopping in overcrowded malls, and the dreary winter weather that hardly allowed a ray of sunlight to break through–all of it suddenly felt distant and insignificant. I saw a bit of Ebenezer Scrooge in myself, grumpily trudging through the dark season instead of being grateful for what I had. The film’s serious tone worked its magic, and by the time the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come appeared and Ebenezer wept over his own grave, I found myself wishing for that redemptive, blissful Christmas morning–for him and for myself.
By the time you’re reading this, that morning is either here or just around the corner. I hope you’re enjoying it without having to trudge through the kind of valley of despair Ebenezer Scrooge did. Wishing you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and a wonderful 2025! Don’t sweat the small stuff–it’s not worth it. Instead, celebrate what you have. Wherever you’re reading these words, make it a great time. Hug a few loved ones who truly deserve it, and above all, stay healthy!
