The Holiday for the Rest of Us

Festivus
by Allen Salkin

Looking to add a little bitterness to your holiday season?

Then FESTIVUS is the book you cannot do without!

Take Frosty behind the woodshed... the time has come for Festivus! The event celebrated by Frank Costanza (Jerry Stiller) on Seinfeld, where participants raise aluminum poles, compete in "feats of strength" and undertake the "airing of grievances," has transcended television. People are actually observing Festivus! In this side-splitting romp through the real world of Festivus, Allen Salkin meets Miss Festivus, tastes Festivus beer, and ponders the Festivus snail, showing how anyone with a little creativity-and a dash of Costanza-can celebrate a Happy Festivus!

Mom, is that you? Dozens of photos and illustrations of actual Festivus celebrants in their natural habitats.

Be sure to wash the nails: Tasty Festivus recipes like Shrimp Impaled on Mini Festivus Poles.

There she is, Miss Festivus! Judge your own Festivus beauty pageant (the abilities to bowl a 170 and clean a carburetor count big).

Are those my chestnuts roasting? Lyrics and chords to those smash hits "O Festivus!" and "Gather 'Round the Pole."

A foreword by Father Festivus himself, Jerry Stiller! See why Festivus is more fun than being killed by a giant boulder.

In the ancient days when gods played their own games, and had their own celebrations, tossing lightning bolts between mountaintops, hurling great boulders — Festivus came out of that. It's a holiday that celebrates being alive at a time when it was hard to be alive.

There was no Christ yet, no Yahweh, no Buddha. There were great ruins and raw nature. But there was a kindling spark of hope among men. They celebrated that great thunderous storms hadn't enveloped them in the past year, that landslides hadn't destroyed them. They made wishes that their crops would grow in the fields, that they'd have food the next year and the wild animals wouldn't attack and eat them.

There's something pure about Festivus, something primal, raw in the hearts of humans.

And then there is the idea of an aluminum pole, the centerpiece of the modern celebration of Festivus. Airplanes are made out of aluminum to take you through life from one place to another — in one piece, usually. Aluminum is a type of metal that can say so much if something is done to it, like turning it into an airplane.

But there's nothing to an aluminum pole. It has no feeling. It says, "I am what I am." You endow the aluminum pole with whatever you want to. It leaves you open to explore your own meaning. It is lightweight stuff, but in the form of an airplane it gets you from one part of the world to the next. Remember that.

And one more thing on aluminum. You don't want to put too many m's into it. "Aluminum" is easy to say, but don't think too much before you say it out loud. If you think too much about how you say it before you say it, you'll screw it up.

So with these sparks of godly and individual human imagination flying, I say this: A Festivus miracle to me would be not having to give anybody a gift during the time of year we call "the holidays," and not feeling like I've shortchanged anyone or hurt their feelings. The other end of the miracle would be that if I didn't get a gift from someone I expected it from, I wouldn't think, "Why didn't they remember me?" Nope. Just wipe the slate clean.

I mean, most of the time when you get a gift, you have to prove to the gift-giver how much you loved what they gave you. It takes a toll on you. I receive letters sometimes from people describing every little thing about the gifts I've sent to them. I don't even remember what I sent! These people should have more in their lives.

Which brings me to wrestling, another centerpiece of Festivus, the feats of strength. Wrestling is raw, primal. With my own son, I used to tumble around. He always used to come out on top for some reason. He was very agile. I let him win, of course.

Snails are primal, too. It's no coincidence there is a snail called Festivus. The snail is the ocean. Earth, wind, fire, water, the essential elements. For Festivus, make it: earth, wind, fire, and snails.

That's why if I'm to air my grievances here, I say: Let's cut this holidays thing. Let's cut it down to the bare minimum.

I am not alone in feeling this way, but very few people will actually say it out loud. Then these things like Festivus come along. Something that makes its way onto a sketch on Seinfeld or Saturday Night Live or another show like that, it comes out of something that's in the air. It resonates and people run with it.

For some people the revelation comes too late that life is best kept to the essentials. Some people are given their last rites and that person might say in their last breath, "I should have celebrated Festivus."

Look, I'm not trying to be an anticonsumer Jerry the Curmudgeon here. I'm a Gucci man, a Prada man, myself. I buy gifts from these stores. People have a right to purchase things if they want to.

All I'm saying is, if you celebrate Festivus, you may live a little longer.

You are getting back to the essentials, to the days of gods on mountaintops and howling wolves. Because you are saying the holidays are in the heart, a celebration of being alive with our fellow humans. For that purpose, an aluminum pole will do just as well as anything else — as long as it's not stuck in the wrong place.

Foreword copyright © 2005 by Jerry Stiller

About the Author

Allen Salkin lives in New York City and teaches journalism and writing at New York University.