Her Last Pair of Shoes

Those of you unfortunate enough to be on my Facebook circle of influence have heard me rant about this subject before. However, I think this merits further discussion, simply because this particular song just bothers me on a number of levels. The song in question is, of course, The Christmas Shoes. For those of you who’ve never heard this song, welcome back to civilization and I hope you enjoyed your time at that Siberia concentration camp. Also, here is a link to the lyrics. Go on, we’ll wait.

The song was released in 2000 by the Christian group Newsong, and it has since been played to death on radio stations around Christmas season. It tells the story of a fellow who is engaged in that time honored Christmas tradition of shopping until your credit cards weep in agony. Come Christmas Eve, our brave hero is standing in line at a nameless department store when he notices a small child in front of him. The boy is filthy and quite clearly not part of the 1 percent as it becomes clear he is trying to buy a pair of women’s shoes. With a stack of pennies. For his dying mother. On Christmas Eve.

This is the kind of situation that would have made even Satan turn to the nearest demon and ask for a Kleenex. When it becomes obvious that even every penny in this boy’s anemic piggy bank will not cover the price of the shoes, this man, in an act of indescribable compassion and generosity, reaches into his wallet and pays for what amounts to roughly half of what he spent at Starbucks this morning.

Let’s do an instant replay of that.

This high/middle class man, who obviously has enough money to go on a Christmas shopping spree, encounters a small, dirty, poor boy in a store. The boy attempts to pay for a pair of shoes, for his dying mother, with every last penny in his woefully deficient piggy bank and comes up short. He turns around, looks up at the man behind him and tells him that his mother always made Christmas special for him at the cost of depriving herself of many things and now she is dying and all he wants is to buy her these pretty shoes before she meets Jesus.

Now.

For this particular man, is there a single response, other than paying for the damned shoes, which would not result on him being deemed by every person in the vicinity as the most heartless, selfish, degenerate asshole in the history of civilization? Is there, in fact, anything he can possibly do at that moment that will not label him as a soulless monster, other than paying for those shoes? I ask because the song makes it sound like he actually considered his options. I mean, I suppose when that child looked up at him and told him, with teary eyes, of his hopeless plight, the man could have replied, “Your mom is dying huh? That’s tragic, kid. Now, can you get the fuck out of the way? I have a Playstation and two iPads to pay for.” And he probably would have been immediately lynched by an angry mob of Christmas shoppers.

I guess what I’m saying is, this fellow is bragging about the fact that, when faced with an impossibly sad and heartbreaking situation, he behaved like a decent human being, which only makes me think that this is not his typical pattern of behavior. He might as well be bragging about the fact that once, when he found an abandoned baby on the sidewalk, he rushed it to the nearest hospital when he could just as easily have stomped it to death.

But you know what? That’s not even my biggest issue with this song.

As it all ends and the little boy runs home to his dying mother with the last pair of shoes she’ll ever wear, the song’s author decides that his audience is far too stupid to understand what just happened and proceeds to force-feed us the moral lesson of the story. In the last stanza, he claims that God had sent that little boy to remind him what Christmas was all about.

Right.

So God is out for a nice, quiet Christmas Eve around the world, maybe doing a little shopping of his own, when he happens upon a woman who is dying of some terrible disease. This woman has a family. She has children. She has been a good mother, denying herself many things to provide a little bit of happiness for her family. It is possible she had to work hard all her life and her death will leave these children without their mother’s love, and the family without an additional source of income they desperately need.

Now, God, being God, has literally, an infinite number of options on how to respond to this situation. He could ignore her. He could kill her. He could turn her into a newt. But more importantly, he could bloody heal her! Surely a Christmas Eve miracle is in order. It would save a life, bring happiness to an entire family and possibly strengthen the faith of everyone who hears about it.

Instead, the author of this song would have me know, when faced with the many, many options he has, including the option of performing a true Christmas miracle, God chooses instead to send this woman’s soon to be orphaned child on a shopping errand. Yes indeed, rather than saving a life and bringing happiness to a family and renewed faith to thousands, God chooses to send this poor, filthy boy away from his dying mother on Christmas Eve, in order to teach some middle class douche bag in a department store about the true meaning of Christmas.

And apparently, the true meaning of Christmas, according to The Christmas Shoes, is that the pain and misery of the lower class, is nothing more than God’s moral lesson for everyone else.

Class dismissed.

 

Originally Published 01/14/2012

That Could be a Problem

Problems.

Everyone’s got them. Some more than others and in greater intensity but it is pretty safe to say no one in this world is completely free of problems. You know what bothers me about problems? They don’t seem to change a whole lot. It’s like life handed you a set and you own it and that’s all you get. Why?

I think of it as a wardrobe.

You open it up and sure, today you may choose to wear the late credit card payment and maybe tomorrow it’s your car with a flat tire and next week, just to shake things up, you’re going to wear a bad flu just when you’re out of sick days at work. But you know that next month, when you open your problem wardrobe, you’ll probably have to wear the late credit card payment again, because you had to spend that money to fix your flat and you missed two days at work because of the flu.

See, if you think about it, problems have this annoying tendency to recycle themselves like considerate cans of soda. For a guy living under a bridge and sleeping on a cardboard box, it’s a simple set: find food, get spare change, don’t freeze to death. I don’t necessarily want to try his set. But sure, perhaps you have a big wardrobe of problems with lots of variety and you may go months without wearing the same problem, but sooner or later, you’ll get back to it. It’s your set.

But wouldn’t you like to try a different set?

You know what problem I’ve never had? I’ve never eaten so much lobster that it made me sick. Never happened. I’m sure someone out there has had that problem. Not me. I’ve never lost two million dollars in the stock market. That would be one bitch of a problem. Never had it. I’ve never had someone break into my ten bedroom mansion and steal six hundred thousand dollars worth of jewelry. Someone out there must have gone through that. Not me.

And you know what? That pisses me off.

One of these days, just for kicks, I would like to try a different set of problems. I’m not saying that those problems are any better than mine, they’re just different problems. It would be like sneaking into your neighbor’s house and looking through their wardrobe. You might find that their clothes are not much better than yours, but dammit they are different and I’d like to wear them. I want to put them on and walk around in them for a bit.

At least that’s what I told the police officer as he handcuffed me, but that’s not important.

Is this so much to ask? Wouldn’t you like to wake up tomorrow morning and groan “Oh God, I hope I’m not harassed by those stupid paparazzi today.” Sure, if you’re Brad Pitt and that’s something you have to worry about every day… well, first of all, Hi Brad! I loved you on Fight Club. How the hell did you find my blog?

Second, it might not seem like so much fun to you because that’s your life, but maybe you’d like to try a whole other set of problems. Maybe for a celebrity, the neighbor’s wardrobe would be waking up and worrying that when they walk into a Starbucks, no one pays any attention to them. I know that’s one problem I have, but I’m guessing that’s not one of yours, Brad.

And maybe it will happen one of these days. It certainly happens. There is a guy out there for whom three months ago his biggest problem was whether he would pay the house mortgage or buy another bag of weed because he only had enough for one or the other. Then he buys the right number and suddenly his problem is that his family won’t talk to him because he did not buy them the house in Cancun they asked him for and two hundred different charities won’t stop calling him. But hey, at least he can buy weed.

The point is, everyone’s got problems and more often than not those problems are either caused by not enough money, or too much money. Well, I’ve had a good long taste of the “not enough money” problems so you know what? I’m ready for the second course. Bring it out waiter!

Also, if you’re still there, Brad… umm… Twelve Monkeys? What the hell was that all about?

 

Originally published 01/23/2012

Thursday the Teaser

Well, it is official. We are now walking out of the forest of another week. This is Thursday, the day placed here to tease us about the fact that it is not quite Friday. In fact, have you ever woken up on Thursday thinking it was Friday? Isn’t it crushing and disheartening once you realize you are still two days away from the weekend? What is that all about?

But hell, it’s better than Wednesday, a day whose only purpose is to obstruct a smooth transition to the end of your week. In the highway of your week, in fact, Wednesday is the old lady in the Cadillac driving seven and a half miles an hour on the fast lane. It doesn’t stop you from moving, but it slows you down enough to make you wish your kids weren’t in the car so you could give her the finger.

Well, we are past Wednesday already, so feel free to look back and give it the finger. Just be careful, cause as it often happens, right as you give the old lady the finger you realize she’s your Pastor’s elderly mother. I’m not sure how this applies to Wednesday, but watch yourself’s all I’m saying. I once flipped my High School English teacher by mistake. Hey, it happens. Plus she assured me the radical and highly suspicious drop in my grade was entirely unrelated.

OK. I suppose you expect a bit of motivation for today. Let’s see what we have for you…

In this life one has to be proactive and aggressive. Don’t be afraid to go after the things you want most cause sure as hell no one is gonna hand them to you… Unless you’re Paris Hilton, in which case… you are not reading this anyway. The important thing to remember is that rejections are simply opportunities for you to dust yourself off, fix your hair and increase the amount of the bribe.

Also, remember boys, when it comes to relationships, the word ‘no’ is often too abstract to be taken at face value. “No” could simply mean, “not now” or “I’m not sure” or “I’m not drunk enough” or “my 300 pound boyfriend is standing behind you with a machete” or “if you come any closer I will castrate you with my nail file and make a wind chime out of your…well, the point is, don’t give up so easy. Women like assertive men, and besides, you will always be able to recognize the true and final answer in the form of a Restraining Order or a bullet heading your way.

 

08/27/2009