My favorite Christmas song.
Be forewarned! There’s a very unfortunate use of the homophobic F-word, and really the whole thing is pretty dark. It’s definitely a product of its time.
But it’s also punk rock and funny and touching and soooo old-school NY Irish.
I’ve lived in the city since just after the song was released, way back in the late 1900s. My family was Irish and culturally Catholic (i.e. lapsed), but we also had German roots, and probably a bunch of other things as well. We just never really talked about that. We emphasized and romanticized and celebrated the Irishness. We told fairytales of Ireland, and of New York. Especially my Dad. He died in 2017, and he really did love Christmas.
He would always buy a bunch of gag gifts, and make an elaborate meal. He tuned the TV to the WPIX Yule Log on TV, and he was a huge fan of A Christmas Story. But he also loved more traditional things like A Child’s Christmas in Wales.
I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, and not just because ‘tis the season and whatnot. I know mourning my job has compounded my grief about him. It brought that earlier loss back to the surface. And given how much he influenced my choice to pursue an academic career, those are some complicated threads to untangle.
Then it’s all that much worse because of the stress of the holidays, right? Sounds like the worst Christmas fruitcake ever!! Baked chock full of disgusting little candied bits of rage, depression, moodiness, and exhaustion.
“But the holidays are so magical!” you say. “And it’s been so long since we’ve been able to celebrate together!”
I hear you, I do. When Fairytale came out, I would have been hiding any secret joy at the season behind black eyeliner and smug sarcasm, but now I can admit it. Last weekend, we revived our old house party from the before times, and I was grateful for all the delicious food and good company. We had a lovely little family Hanukkah too, and the cousins played board games together. We get to celebrate Christmas with my mom, and even play in the snow with extended family next week. We are very lucky, and we’re going to have a lovely holiday.
It’s just that the elves or whoever don’t actually make it all happen with magic, and so I’m a little overwhelmed. Untangling knots of grief and strings of colored lights all at once is a lot.
The Pogues’ raw Irish cynicism helps. So do memes like this one:
My Dad would have laughed at that meme too. Maybe he would find a drunk Santa gag gift or something.
It’s hard not having him here, and I’m sending him love wherever he is. I’m also getting weepy listening to the Pogues. It’s that third line that always catches in the back of my throat:
It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won't see another one
There’s just so much Irish in that old man. No time for a socially appropriate response, like “Happy Christmas to you too!” Just a snide remark about the years passing and the inevitability of death. Dark, but funny dark because it’s happening in the drunk tank. Self-pitying, but also kind of profound. And just so fucking sad for me right now.
So, anyhoo…Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy Solstice from me to all the overworked parents! And to all those grieving—anyone or anything—this time of year, hang in there and keep listening to those holiday classics. It’ll be a laugh.
