But really what gets me in the midst of all the frenzy, what really angers me is the "special" label given to the holiday season. It is "special" because it is the time of year where we all show our love for our fellow humans (by throwing books at minimum wage cashiers.) It is "special" because we get to spend the time with our friends and family (at the mall. in line. shopping, shopping, shopping.

Or at the employee christmas party. Oh, come on, honey. We'll have one drink and then leave.)

Maybe I'm missing something. When my friends and I go out for Christmas, it's always the one time of year you're guaranteed to see everyone in the same place again. People have truly surprised me, and I've truly surprised them with thoughtful gifts. And, our literature and movies are full of wonderful examples of specialness. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting It's a Wonderful Life or Miracle on 34th Street. But, my favorite of the pieces of art trotted out at the thought of christmas is Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. I love Charles Dickens. The man believed in spontaneous combustion, what's not to love?

In A Christmas Carol, with the second ghost, Scrooge visits the home of Bob Cratchit, his employee, and he watches and sees how this family with little interacts. While the day is special for them, which you can see by the meager feast on the table and the decorations, that is all that sets this day apart from every other day of the year. The shared emotions, the connection, the care that the Cratchits treat each other with are things that are always present in that family. And you know this when the ghost of Christmas future shows Scrooge the Cratchit family after Tiny Tim's death. The entire family mourns the loss as anyone would mourn the loss of a limb, because in a sense they have lost a limb. Each member of the Cratchit family is indespensible; they are not part of the surplus population.

Bob says, "We will never forget this first parting among us," and the gravity of the loss sinks in. The Christmas holiday never made anything special to the Cratchits. Each day was special to them, be it first or last, because life is special and they knew it. They were lucky, and they knew it. This makes the Cratchit's the perfect example of the "holiday spirit" not because they make a special effort in the month of December, but because they make the effort all year round. They shine with good will towards mankind everyday. They might barely make ends meet, but they have each other, and they know what that is worth.