author: Nicole J. LeBoeuf

How do we know this? We know this because it's the day after Thanksgiving, and the Tea Spot is serving up hot chocolate, and the ice-skating rink is open for business. Today was the rink's grand opening, along with the annual lighting up of Boulder. The star on Flagstaff Mountain has been turned on. That's how we know it's holiday season in Boulder.

I have a gripe, though. I've had this gripe for quite some time. I'm griping about the automatic synonymization of "Winter" with "Christmas." I'm griping that every single tune the ice-skaters in the grand opening ceremony twirled to was a Christmas tune. I'm griping that there's no Jewish, Hindu, Muslim, or Wiccan equivalent to the sentimental notion that "even the most hardened, cynical heart can believe at Christmas time!" Look, I don't care that Christmas has been secularized - that doesn't make it any less irksome to see it get exclusive favor from secular entities.

I mean, would it be all that bad to have a little mention of the Solstice? of Chanukkah? of Eid, Diwali, Kwanzaa? That would be so damn cool: an ice-dancing routine of African descent celebrating the seven virtues, with the dancers dressed in green, red, and yellow; then a reenactment of the consecrating of the temple with the miraculous eight-day duration of that tiny bit of lamp oil; and then a solemn yet divinely comic procession of divinities led by Ganesha around the rink.

Wouldn't it be cool if the onset of winter prompted a celebration of the entire community, every last heathen pagan atheist or god-fearing one of 'em? Wouldn't it be cool if the folks planning these festivities actually gave a damn about the diversity of their city... instead of brushing the non-Christians aside, putting on their church robes, and then pretending that calling it something vague like "the holiday season" somehow magically does the inclusivity work they've neglected by only celebrating one damn holiday?

Maybe one day. When I'm the boss of Boulder.