Contributed by: Jim Peterson

The arrival of the Christmas season was announced around my family in its traditional way, even more irritating than the echoes through our local mall of that wretched little drummer boy’s “pa-rum-pum-pum-pum."

Which was, the saccharine and questionably sincere multi-page newsletter from a distant relative – annually timed to arrive even before the Thanksgiving turkey was converted to left-over sandwiches and soup – and imposing far more news than anyone could possibly want about the above-average accomplishments of every member of that above-average household -- pets and non-resident collateral members included.

Only deepening my regard and respect for two aspects of French culture:

- The first is the discretion with which that society declines to flaunt the personal details of every life progression, from a child’s soccer prowess to Dad’s job promotion to Grandma’s hip replacement.

- The second is the seasonally–sensitive practice to send greetings in the name of the new year, deemed timely if arriving anytime in the month of January.

It was our practice while resident in France to spend the holidays with family “back in the States,” to use the expats’ term. So my exposure to the nuances of Christmas-keeping there was limited:

Shops were dressed for the season, and the windows of the grands magasins were alive with children's fantasies. But the year’s entire fourth quarter was not hi-jacked by the spirits of relentless commercialism.

In anticipation of family-centered celebration, the markets were replete with game and foie gras, and the neighborhood boutique of wine-chain Nicolas lived up to its saintly name with an expanded array of champagnes.

Characteristic of the pragmatic, yet under-stated nature of French retailing, the marketing head of a serious house in Épernay put out a pitch-perfect Gallic sales proposition, in late December of 1999 as he took my order to stock our millennial réveillon:

“Best you should buy in quantity now. There is a general 15% price rise coming in February.”

Subtle, the effect of that insouciant confession to industry price-fixing, which in America would land a drinks-company executive in jail for antitrust violations. In France, it was all in the spirit of holiday camaraderie.

It’s the opportunity to postpone over into January the entire machinery of address books and stamps and card-writing that I truly appreciate. The run-up to Christmas Day itself was already sufficiently fraught – where and how to travel, and how to manage the family complexities, and all about the shopping, and where did the tree stand get stuck away last winter?

It is very civilized instead, in the darkness and down time of January, now that the Three Kings have departed and the galette des rois is eaten and the decorations are packed away for another year – to tuck up in a café or with a brandy by the fire, and think with pen in hand and affection in heart of all those to whom goes out this message:

Meilleurs Voeux à tous -- et Bonne Année 2012.

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