Life moves pretty fast

One of the purposes of my blog during my sabbatical is to help me process my thoughts following the passing of my lovely Jen and my dear Dad in the last year or so. Just to say this blog post talks about grief and some of the emotion of these things. Hence if you think this may not be for you and want to stop reading at this point, please feel free. I completely understand and I send with you my best wishes and lots of love for a Merry Christmas.

The Muppet Christmas Carol is 30 years old this year and is, in my opinion, the definitive Christmas movie. (There are many contenders to that title of course and I wouldn’t dream of arguing with anyone who had their own personal favourite – that which brings you joy is wonderful). I would not be able to count how many times I have watched the film or listened to its score. (After reading this blog, I highly recommend the 30^th anniversary interview with Kermit and the gang with Brett Goldstein by the way.)

The initial idea that you can merge a Victorian novel discussing the social challenges of the day, a classic actor renowned for some heavy modern dramas and frogs, pigs, rats, chickens, bears and a whatever(!) doesn’t immediately sound that promising. Yet what was produced by the Jim Henson company, in his memory, is just as fantastic in its emotional subtlety and poignancy as it is in its ridiculousness.

I cannot praise Sir Michael Caine enough in how he approaches his role. He is formidable, emotional, funny and a literal and figurative cornerstone for all that happens. Look closely for the little look between him and Stephen Mackintosh (Fred) in the final song as the camera leaves the Cratchit house and you will see a recognition of what a wonderful thing they are a part of. It’s one of the things I look for the most in the movie.

Similarly, the highly talented performers of the Henson company cannot be overlooked. There are so many moments in that film where, what in essence is some felt, foam and plastic being controlled by a human hand, makes you laugh, cry, and melt into a landscape so engrossing that it has become a staple of millions of household’s Christmas celebrations.

I have followed Gonzo’s advice at the end of the movie and read Charles Dickens’ novel A Christmas Carol. It doesn’t need me to state this, but it is a masterpiece by arguably the greatest writer of his era. For me the thing I remember most about the book is the warning from Marley that is covered a little differently in the movie both in song and with a slightly different approach:

“It is required of every man,” the Ghost returned, “that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world – oh, woe is me! – and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!”

As, particularly the Ghost of Christmas Present, shows this joy to Scrooge by visiting both kin and strangers on Christmas day, you live the realisation with him. The necessity to live. To be involved in the world and how without that you become, “as solitary as an oyster”.

This leads to the main theme of the story, resurrection. The belief that every man can be restored through embracing the spirit of Christmas and taking joy in humankind in all its variety. Of course, one of the key resurrections in the story is that of Tiny Tim as revealed by Gonzo to Rizzo at the end of the story. In this case it can be taken to be a literal resurrection from his death shown to Scrooge by the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.

The scenes with Tiny Tim I always found to be the most emotional of the movie. His line at Christmas dinner of “God Bless us everyone” and the song that follows are beautiful and will always make my heart pound with sentiment.

However last Christmas and this, those scenes hold a special tenderness for me. This relates to having two Christmases in a row where there will be someone missing from Christmas. The way the Cratchit family react to the “vacant chair by the chimney corner and the crutch without an owner” in the vision of the future where Tiny Tim has died is so realistically full of emotion. Last year when I watched the film on Christmas Eve on my own without Jen for the first time in 20 years, it felt so real for me that it was as if I was stood there with Kermit, Piggy and Scrooge and I had to pause at the end of the scene to take many deep breaths and dry my eyes.

The renewal for me at that point was that of memories of Christmas time with Jen. They are so numerous that they cannot be described here in totality. They include Die Hard on Christmas Eve, Jen eating Turkish Delight and getting covered in icing sugar, our tree & decoration themes, (Star Wars was a particularly good one!), and our different approaches to Christmas dinner over the years including curry and barbeque. When it comes to The Muppet Christmas Carol, Jen’s sweet face at the “cheeses for us meeses” mice every time she watched it will always make me smile.

When Jen passed away and with Dad this year, one of the things I thought about a lot were the lines Bob Cratchit (Kermit) says in that potential future scene. I can type them verbatim from memory. “It’s alright children. Life is full of meetings and partings, that is the way of it. I’m sure we shall never forget Tiny Tim or this first parting that there was among us.” It is a pragmatic, stoic statement and yet in contradiction, it is so full of loss and love that it manages to summarise the emotions of missing someone so perfectly.

What I experienced last year at Christmas, and have in previous years with other family passing, and I know I shall again this year, is that feeling of bittersweetness. Your greatest wish at times is that the person who is not there, was there to experience the joy of the moment. To hear them laughing and see them smiling at simple pleasures of togetherness. It occurs so frequently for me about Jen and in such unexpected ways that you never quite know when that aspect of grief will hit you and, to date, I have not really found it to decrease.

But what is also true, as is stated in the lines above from Bob Cratchit and Marley, is that time together is, like everything, measured in quality not quantity. All things end. This is not something to be afraid of but instead the story encourages us to take the risk of loving each other in the knowledge that that happiness is a splendid thing that should neither be taken for granted nor avoided and replaced by greed and self-centredness. As Scrooge rightly expresses at the end of the story and I have experienced myself, it is the gratitude for life and the chance to make those memories that can be stronger than the bittersweetness of grief.

One thing that Jen told me to do was to make sure I share our stories. One of those stories is this one. Our love of Christmas together, watching our movies, our traditions & innovations and the fun with friends and family.

I am also thinking of my dad so much this year. With him, it is Christmas music of so many genres. It is games of crib, Christmas dinner and putting up lights. These memories are what make life – the bit between the dates as the poet Linda Ellis describes in her poem “The Dash”:

“He noted that first came the date of birth and spoke the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years”.

The Muppet Christmas Carol movie is an incredible tapestry of all things Christmas. It provides a warm hug of simple fun and humour, multiple wonderful resurrection stories and as a result, ultimately reminds everyone that in essence Christmas is a promise of fresh beginnings, both in the sense of the traditional Christian message and in that of winter representing the end of one year and the lead to new growth in the spring.

I wish everyone who reads this a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

To finish with one more line from Christmas Carol – “Christmas has done me good and will do me good and I say God Bless it!”.