Merry -- wait, I mean, Happy -- umm...

My local homeschooling group meets on Thursdays, so last week was our last get-together before the big C. I brought various cookies I'd baked -- shortbread, smashed-candy-cane cookies (pretty much the only accurate name for them), those little round molasses guys you shake in powdered sugar (sorry, but there's no way I'm getting up and checking the correct spelling of "pfeffernusse" right now, and anyway I'm pretty sure it requires a couple of dots over the "u" or something and there's no way I'm figuring out how to do that, either) -- as well as some smallish resealable food storage bags my son had decorated in a festive manner. Since I'd had no idea how many people would be there, I simply lugged it all in an opaque cloth shopping bag, and then quietly assembled goodie bags for any family who wanted one.

I didn't think anything about this, until about the fourth person said, "Oh -- so, do you celebrate -- or, I mean, you know, some people do some of it but not all of it; but I guess that's not -- I mean, maybe you don’t -- "

I generally keep the whole "I'm the editor of SHM" thing under wraps in my group. Not because I'm embarrassed, although it's true that my life in that respect might be a lot different if one of our good friends in the group wasn't the wife of an evangelical, young-earth creationist-type minister. Mostly I just don't want people thinking that if they come to our park days, I'm going to try to sell them something. I mean, I am, but I don't want them to think I am.

No, really, I'm sensitive on the point of seeming as if I'm peddling my little paper. I do talk about my work, though, especially since there's another writer/editor in the group. And I often bring work to park days -- either envelopes to fill and address and stamp, or books to read for reviewing. And I tend to talk about it if, for instance, I get a particularly lovely email from a total stranger who likes what I'm doing, or a particularly ghastly email from a total stranger who hates what I'm doing. So people who spend time with me know what I do, and know the name of the magazine I edit and write for.

And so, being intelligent and sensitive sorts, they naturally didn't want to make any assumptions about what I might or might not -- and, hey, totally cool either way! -- be celebrating this time of year.

Which I thought was really sweet. So I broke it to them gently that I'll celebrate pretty much any holiday that doesn't actively conflict with my lack of beliefs and does bring me a heightened chance of receiving presents.

My son has Jewish relatives, so we celebrate the first night of Hanukkah in a secular fashion. I would feel presumptuous lighting candles, but I make one hell of a good latke for a shiksa, and I play a mean game of dreidel. (And I just found out that my word processor is a closet anti-Semite, since it wouldn't accept any spellings of "dreidel" -- and forget about "shiksa" -- without putting a big red line under them.) I even know the best gelt to buy. Forget those tacky five-bags-for-a-nickel you always see at the grocery store. It's once a year, kids. Live it up. Buy Lake Champlain chocolate coins. They're insanely expensive, but this is one time when you get what you pay for.

We also read a little about the history of the holiday, since that is kind of the point. And I want my son to know more about what the heck Hanukkah is than I did growing up, which was what I could glean from the two Hanukkah songs they had us sing, along with eighty or ninety Christmas carols, in my elementary school's winter holiday program. And what I could glean was pretty much that there was a dreidel. And some candles. So even if most of what I read him doesn't stick, if he knows about a military victory and the miracle of the oil lasting way longer than it should have, my son's still way ahead of where I was at his age.

We observe the winter solstice in the sense of saying, "Hey, it's the solstice today." I used to make a bigger deal about it back when I had to walk everywhere -- this was before I had a car or a license to drive one, and my neighborhood is okay but a lot of the places I shop are iffy in terms of who you might run into, especially after dark; so lengthening days were something to celebrate. Now that I have a car and spend a lot of my fiction-writing time fantasizing about vampires, I like those long nights. But I'm still an astronomy nerd, so I do at least make sure my son knows what a solstice is.

This year, since the first night of Hanukkah fell on the solstice, we got a little no-battery flashlight for my son as a two-holidays-in-one gift. We don't play up the gift-giving aspect of Hanukkah. Frankly, just having homemade applesauce and potato pancakes (and store-bought jelly doughnuts) is gift enough, especially since anyone who's made latkes knows that the smell of that oil is the gift that keeps on giving. It's been days now, and my apartment was still smelling like stale cooking oil as of last night. I think if I made latkes all eight nights, we'd be smelling it until next Hanukkah.

I'm a non-rancorous atheist who celebrates Christmas. I was raised with Christmas. I like presents. I already have one day a year when there's lots of cake to eat and plenty of presents for me, most of which are either books or chocolate. If I can make that two days a year, I don't care whose idea it was or whose birth we're allegedly celebrating.

I've read The Trouble With Christmas by Tom Flynn. I understand the argument against an atheist celebrating a holiday belonging to a religion she doesn't believe in.

I also see this argument as beginning a potentially dangerous trend. What's next? Do I not get any dark chocolate butter creams on February 14th because Valentine's Day technically has "Saint" at the beginning of it? For that matter, do I have to call our Thursday park days something else because the word Thursday is derived from the old Norse and used to specifically refer to Thor and am I trying to make people think this is some kind of Viking gathering or something?

That's the thing with Flynn's argument that non-believers should refuse to have anything to do with stuff we consider to be based on old superstitions. What, pray tell, would we have left?

I do see his point about not partaking in a holiday you don't enjoy just because most of the rest of our country does. I don't celebrate any part of Christmas I don't enjoy. I make the foods I like, shop only for my very nearest and dearest (and refuse to get all stressed out about it, no matter how much the retailers beg), and listen to strictly non-obnoxious music. (This year it's mostly either Brian Setzer wailing away, or Anonymous 4 sweetly and solemnly filling my house with beautiful medieval carols. My rule is that it has to be music that sounds good no matter what. If I'd mind hearing it in July, I don't turn it on in December.)

We don't have a crèche. We did when I was a kid, and I miss it (it was very small, beautiful, and delicate); but that's definitely Christian, and it just wouldn't be right to have it in our house. We do have a tree -- a fake one, for allergy reasons -- and it's decorated in a predominant Jack Skellington theme.

We don't tell my son there's a Santa, because I want him to understand that his father and I work very hard to make him happy and get him things he'd like for Christmas. (There are other reasons we don't tell him there's a Santa, but I may or may not be writing an article on the subject for an upcoming issue, and either I'll do it there or I'm not up to that kind of fight. So we'll leave it at that, at least for now.) My son has been giving us (and his grandparents, aunt, and uncle) gifts since his third Christmas, and I've always had him give his presents first at any family gathering, so that he'll get the point that it isn't just about him -- and that it's a lot of fun to watch someone open what you carefully made or chose for them. And if you don't think that a homemade gift can be a blast, you've never been the recipient of a limited-edition "The Ninja Reindeer and The Attack of the Kung-Foo-A-Tron!" comic book, in which our heroes Ginger and Berry go up against the foul Doctor Bratwurst.

In the last couple of years, we've also started celebrating a mild version of St. Nicholas' day, in which traditionally children leave their notes for St. Nick in a shoe, and he takes them and leaves a little treat in said shoe. I like this idea. It gives the big guy some lead time, you know?

My son has a lot of fun composing these letters, because both his parents are humor writers and readers and we love his way with words, so he knows his work will be appreciated.

Here, reprinted with his express permission, is his letter from last year, written when he was nine:
 
Dear St. Nicholas:

How are you? I hope my shoes aren't stinky. That would be bad.

So wait. Are you Santa, or are you some other guy named Saint Nick?

[in the border, pointing to a tear in the paper: "Sorry 'bout the rip."]

What do I want, well, let's see now.

Chocolate frogs are good.

Hot Wheels Speed Trap.

And Club Penguin membership.

(and unlimited hugs from Mom.)

Well, I think that's about it. So. See you (or not see you) later. :-)
 
Yes. He penciled in an emoticon.

So. Getting back to the point of this posting.

I explained a shortened version of all this at park day last week, and everyone was really cool with it. I think I managed to get across the idea that, yes, we're secular, but we still know how to party.

Books and chocolate. That's all I'm saying.

Dark chocolate.

And Happy Whatever to you, dear readers.

Separation Anxiety and Braxton Hicks

Just finished the big article for the upcoming issue of SHM -- the issue we refer to around here alternately as the Tough Issues issue, the Going Out On A Limb Here issue, the So How Many Readers Are We Going To Lose With This One issue, and (more recently) the This Really Should Have Gone To The Printers A Week Ago issue.

This article was the hardest to write, and the hardest to let go of, because I want so much for it to be perfect and of course it won't even be close. And I'm not being modest. When it comes to modesty, I'm with Sherlock Holmes: "I cannot agree with those who rank modesty among the virtues. To the logician all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to underestimate one's self is as much a departure from truth as to exaggerate one's own powers." (In the interest of truth, rather than modesty, I freely admit that I remembered the gist of this paragraph, but had to look the passage up in order to repeat it here.)

I don't see myself, then, as lacking in decorum when I say that I think I'm a perfectly competent writer, any more than I would see it as boasting to say I have red hair. I do think my gifts lie more in the realm of the comic than the serious, and that's fine when it comes to scribbling bitter wish lists or mock-serious quizzes; but when it's time to address myself to the subject of how non-religious homeschooling parents can help our children cope with the idea of death, I worry that I'm simply not up to the job.

My comfort is that, when it comes to simply being able to present a quick, easy, comforting answer to parents struggling with the issue, no one is up to the job. There may be comfort to be found, but quick and easy are out of the question. If I can offer anecdotes I've collected on the subject, so that parents can know that at least they're not alone and the fact that their children are worried about or frightened of the idea of death doesn't mean their parents screwed up somehow; my own ideas and suggestions on the subject, gathered with the help of a lot of conversations with a lot of brilliant, caring secular homeschooling parents; and a heck of a long list of book suggestions -- well, that's something, anyway.

Still, emailing that article to my husband to typeset was painful. Wrenching. Never mind that I still have to proofread everything, and that he and I are going to sit down and figure out if it would be better to break it up with the book suggestions as separate pieces (or are they too integral a part of the flow of the article?); this felt like sending my child out in the world alone too soon.

At least I was able, against all odds, to write a funny piece on the subject as well. Maybe that could be one of the articles we post to read for free in this issue. But shouldn't the lead article be the one we offer up? Or, heck, we could do both.

Oh, I don't know. I've still got reviews to write. None of which are about death, if memory serves.

Wish me luck. The contractions have started.

Money Matters

"Money Matters" is the name of a regular column in SHM. I like the fact that "matters" can be read as a noun or a verb. That's the kind of thing editors find strangely exciting, which is why you won't usually find us at the best parties.

Anyway: the "Money Matters" column is one I'm especially interested in farming out. The article should be a minimum of 500 words -- don't worry about a maximum unless and until your word count starts nudging the five digits. It should be about, well, money matters -- either ways of saving money or making it.

Both the saving and the making should be tips and ideas that apply to families. They don't have to be about homeschooling per se. Many if not most homeschooling families are getting by on one income, so we are naturally interested in either spending less when possible, or making some while still being able to be at home with our families.

In the current issue, I wrote about a great site called Work At Home Mom Revolution:
 
http://workathomemomrevolution.blogspot.com
 
I subscribe to it, and every day in my mailbox I get either a hot tip on a work at home opportunity, a little article about saving money, or sometimes just a funny cartoon or nice recipe. The woman who writes it isn't a homeschooler, but it's still a site of strong interest to homeschoolers.

In another issue of SHM, I wrote a "Money Matters" column about cooking with our kids, especially from unprocessed ingredients that are low on the food chain, and included a couple of recipes for inexpensive but healthy and tasty meals.

This gives you some idea of the kind of thing I'm looking for.

Something to keep in mind, especially if you can't afford to subscribe to SHM, is that if I buy an article from you, you get a free copy of whatever issue your article appears in. Since I can't pay much, some writers take four-issue subscriptions in lieu of pay. I'm happy to offer a subscription for a usable article regardless of where you live, so if you're not in the U.S., writing a piece for SHM would be an especially economical way of wangling a subscription. Spread the word!

The reason that "Money Matters" is on my mind is I'm working on the column for the upcoming issue. I'm thinking of writing about another site I like, The Simple Dollar:
 
http://www.thesimpledollar.com
 
Every December, the guy who writes it posts about a charity he likes, and tells exactly why he likes it, so that if people are considering making charitable donations, they'll know of one more good place to support. This year it's a group called Jump for Joel:
 
http://www.jumpforjoel.org
 
It sounds like a terrific organization.

I like supporting worthwhile charities, especially during the holiday season. Last year at about this time, SHM (yes, it's all about us) had a "Money Matters" column about charities that are not only doing great work, but can make you feel good about giving even just a little money, if that's all you can afford, because their overhead is low and donations go right to work, as it were:
 
http://www.secular-homeschooling.com/002/money_matters.html
 
So I'm not going all Scroogey on you.

But here's what I disagreed with in The Simple Dollar: the writer mentioned that he'd be giving several donations to his favorite charity in other people's names, as gifts.

I always felt a little guilty about how much I hate that practice until Judith Martin, a.k.a. Miss Manners, a.k.a. The Writer I Want To Be If I Ever Grow Up, wrote about exactly this issue in her wonderful book Miss Manners Rescues Civilization. After a brief essay on the subject of the fact that "it is bad enough to brag about one's philanthropies without doing it at the expense of others," Martin prints a letter she received from a woman who is a single mother. Money is incredibly tight for her, but she managed to scrape together enough to buy a coffeemaker for her sister at Christmas. Said sister sent the "gift" of the fact that she'd made a donation to the Humane Society in the mother and son's names. The mother was, to put it gently, not exactly touched by the gesture.
Miss Manners was on her side:
 
"Your sister is one of many people nowadays who try to claim double virtue for their philanthropy. It is generous of her to support an organization in which she believes. It would also be generous of her to give a Christmas present to her sister and nephew....If she makes only the one gesture, Miss Manners does not recognize her apparent belief that she has performed two acts of generosity."
 
Which was exactly what had been bugging me: the "two-fer" side of it.

I would applaud anyone who kept holiday gifts simple, inexpensive, and meaningful -- homemade is always lovely, since it shows that you offered up both thought and precious time to the person you care about -- and donated the money saved to a worthwhile charity. But people who take this route don't get to brag about it -- and yes, when you "give" the fact that you donated to a charity, that's what you're doing.

When I feel strongly about things, I don't always realize how warmly I'm speaking. And of course written words come across even more intensely than spoken ones.

So when I reread the comment I posted to The Simple Dollar in reply to the Jump for Joel column, I realized that I shouldn't be surprised that it's still under moderation and is, apparently, not jolly likely to be posted. Either the guy who runs the site is worried it'll be offensive, or he's offended himself.

I still like the guy and the work he does, and as I said, I've been a hothead too often in print to be surprised that, whoops, I did it again. Here's what I wrote, if you're interested:
 
I’m very grateful that you blogged about this charity, and have been enjoying reading your postings for several weeks, ever since someone on a homeschooling loop recommended them to me.
 
However, I strongly disagree with making donations to charities and then presenting that fact to friends to explain why they won’t be receiving a gift on a holiday.
 
Giving to a charity has nothing to do with the fact that it's traditional to give gifts to loved ones at certain times of the year. If a friend has mentioned a particular charity repeatedly and said wistfully that she wished she could make a sizable donation to them, doing so in her name would be a genuine gift, because it's something she wants. But that's what a gift is: thinking about someone you care about and figuring out what they'd like to receive. If your friends don't like getting gifts, that's a whole separate issue. “Giving” someone the fact that you donated to a charity is a non sequitur and smacks of self-righteousness to boot. “Oh, thanks. Um…I got you these socks with the little reindeer noses on them, 'cause we saw them once and you said how cute they were. I think I'll go home and feel like a jerk now.”
 
Give to good charities, and encourage other people to do so. Just don't try pulling a two-fer with it.
 
I'm now going to go clean my bathroom, edit my magazine, and renew my subscription to the publicly supported radio station I enjoy, all of which are good and necessary things to do and none of which get me off the hook for going to my mother-in-law's for Christmas.
 
End quote. Too strong, I agree.

But on the other hand, The Simple Dollar printed this comment on an earlier article without any apparent hesitation:
 
"I will always disagree with homeschooling because I feel that it insultes [sic] your children from the real world and causes them to have poor social skills. I have seen it in many kids and I would never do it myself. Plus I have faith in our government system that the teachers who are paid to teach our children will do a good job.

But I respect that it is your choice and good luck to you."
 
The Simple Dollar article to which it refers was about a woman who was expecting her first child and planning to homeschool. She had written in asking for advice about how to transition, financially and otherwise, from being a working-outside-the-home woman to being a homeschooling homemaker:
 
http://www.thesimpledollar.com/2008/11/13/walking-away-to-be-a-stay-at-home-parent/
 
Like I said, I like the guy and I like his blog -- but I don't always agree with his editing choices.

I'm still going to buy his book, though -- 365 Ways To Live Cheap -- and write about him for "Money Matters." And I'm still hoping that maybe that'll be the last "Money Matters" column I have to write for SHM.

Hint, hint.