I’ve spent the majority of my adult life celebrating holidays on days other than the actual date.
Work schedules, travel problems, health issues — all have conspired in one way or another to force a rescheduling of everything from Christmas to Memorial Day.
I’ve even celebrated the Fourth of July on a different day. That’s kind of depressing, when you think about it.
I mean, the date marked for the celebration is literally in the informal name of the holiday.
Spending 17 years at a large daily newspaper will do that to you. News doesn’t stop. It doesn’t take a day off. Neither does the staff that reports it, prints it or distributes it.
I’ve been in a newsroom for nearly every Christmas, Thanksgiving, Memorial Day, Labor Day (which actually seems fitting) and Independence Day for the better part of three decades. The only time I was ever off for a holiday was the rare time it fell on one of my regular days off and I didn’t have to cover for someone. Since my days off were Tuesday and Wednesday, those were few and far between.
Even my birthday — has fallen victim to rescheduling. I’m not sure if that makes me older or younger than I actually am, but I hope it’s the latter.
The first year I hadn’t worked on Christmas in 17 years was in 2017, just six years ago. I didn’t know what to do with myself. A year later, I had to reschedule Christmas again, but this time it was for a good reason, a visit from my oldest stepdaughter.
That year, I didn’t mind so much. See, holidays are a time for family and friends to gather together, celebrate, argue, catch up or just enjoy each other’s company.
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