Musings on Boxing Day

When you are a child, Christmas time is fabulous. When you are a child born on the third of December, named Stefania, Christmas time is a long Dionysiac festival, a bacchanal, which starts exactly the day of your birthday and whose wild dances die out the day of the Epiphany. Well, when I was a child. I should have realized that something was about to change the moment when accidentally I was told that, from then on, the name-day present was part of the Christmas present, implying that I would have received only one gift but, of course, a more expensive one. Was it really so? I don’t know. Actually, I didn’t give much consequence to that slight change of plan, after all, the name-day present was usually really a small thing, just the emotion of unwrapping the little surprise. That was all.

By the way, after few years, I started to suspect that something was going the wrong way, when I was told that I was too old to expect the usual sock full of candies, coins and that delicious sugar in the form and colour of charcoal, which was usually given to all the bad children in the world -and I was happily one if them – along with a present by the old and scary Befana witch. Old? Old at thirty!I couldn’t believe it.

As the time went by, I realized that December had become a “problem” for all my relatives and friends, as very likely, when you are no longer a child, it is less obvious to find a present that you really need or wish, let alone 4 in a month, so, before I knew it, the four presents had become one. Now I can candidly say that being born and having my name-day celebrated in December is a bummer. Furthermore, my beloved husband Mr Run and I (?) have decided that this year we would have waited for the sale season to buy and exchange our presents. Of course, mine will be something invaluable he said, but I suspect another….bummer?

11 thoughts on “Musings on Boxing Day

  1. Do you have a middle name? You could always adopt that as your saint’s day, unless that’s in December too. Luckily there comes a time in life when we’d rather not be reminded how old we are and slide out of all that embarrassing stuff — especially the unwanted presents — or better still, treat yourself to a weekend away (a spa treat from Mr Run?) and say you’re not around for your birthday… ๐Ÿ˜

  2. It’s a long time since I’ve even heard of “name day”. We sort of drifted away from it after we moved to the US.

    The Internet says May 28th for my name but I can’t recall ever celebrating name day at any age.

    Melisa and I long ago stopped exchanging gifts for the holidays (any holiday) for we are each other’s gifts.

    However, as to your plight . . . I’m not sure how much human rights have progressed in Italy, but here, in the US, it’s every person’s right, be they male or female or anything in between or beyond, to allot a portion of their earnings for the essential necessities such as candies.

    If that’s not the case over there, I weep for the country . . . and for all the starving dentists.

    Finally, Happy Month that was.

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