Remember when somebody sensible suggested that maybe, just maybe, we should stop pretending that December’s early darkness, credit-card remorse and glorified tinsel panic are the pinnacle of human ritual? Oh wait — that was me. The point is simple: Why cram all the joy, stress, parties and artificial pine into the shortest, gloomiest corner of the calendar when we could instead spread it over two more months that could surely use some brightening?
Here’s the updated pitch, polished for 2025: Let’s shift the official date of Christmas from late December to sometime in March (I’m partial to the first weekend after the vernal equinox — call it “Marchmas,” or, for the traditionalists, “Spring-gle”). Why? Because the reasons that made this a mildly charming thought experiment back when I first scribbled it remain — and have only become more practical, urgent, and, frankly, deliciously inconvenient for the calendar-makers who will have to lucratively deputize me as their consultant.
Late December in our latitudes is short on sunlight. Moving the big day to March buys us later sunsets, more daylight, and — this is the important part — light, which actually helps people’s brains not feel like wet stockings. More daylight = better circadian rhythms = fewer weepy carols from people who really need a therapist, not Mariah.
Now the somewhat-less-boring-but-still-true department: relocate Christmas to March and we get two more full months of festive lighting, sweaters, parties and brie platters. Want to have “Christmas lights through spring training”? Fine. Want the Super Bowl to be a natural warm-up party to the Big Day instead of a sad spike in cholesterol before hibernation? Push the holiday out and you get longer afternoons, fewer plunges into seasonal gloom, and a whole new economic calendar for bakers, electricians, and tree farms (they adapt — they’re good at hustling).
Tax season and gift season could converge into one joyful ritual of proving to the IRS that you indeed donated seven fruitcakes and three ceramic Santas. Imagine filing your taxes while sipping eggnog that is technically a Christmas beverage. Efficiency! Assuming anyone is bothering to send a check to what’s left of the IRS Accounts Receivable Enforcement Division, that is. (His name’s Morty. Real overworked. The odds you make his Naughty list are real low.)
March Madness + Marchmas is an advertising bonanza
You think Prime Day is aggressive? Bracket up just before the unwrap-a-thon and watch accounting departments weep into their spreadsheets.
Spring break for Christmas! Some families (mine) already celebrate Christmas with margaritas. Let’s make it official. (Just don’t ride those hoverboards in the house after knocking a few back. We learned the hard way. Feliz Navidad, Gottlieb ER — I assume you all still think of that incident from time to time too.)
We need this now more than ever. Beyond the morbidity of short winter afternoons and the perennial cruelty of mall Muzak, consider the cultural climate. We live in an era of calendar bloat. Everyone wants a “season”: 30 Days of Gratitude begins at Halloween and someone starts playing Jingle Bells before you’ve finished your kids’ candy). By moving Christmas later, we accomplish two things at once — we shorten the ridiculous early-onset commercialization and we restore a sensible rhythm to the year.
Also: people are exhausted. A later date gives breathing space between end-of-year deadlines and the toboggan of expectations that is “the holidays.” Evidence? Look, psychiatry and public-health sources have long pointed to the link between light exposure and mood, and spring’s longer afternoons are restorative. If the calendar served human health instead of department store cycles, wouldn’t you call that an improvement?
Practical objections I expect, and their answers:
“But then what do we do with New Year’s?” You keep New Year’s. It’s a time for resolutions, bad champagne and the ancient human ritual of pretending we’ll stop eating nachos on a Wednesday. Christmas and New Year’s are emotionally distinct; they can survive living in different months.
“Religion!” I hear you. Lots of faith communities observe the Nativity liturgically; moving secular, civic celebration dates doesn’t change theology one whit. Think of it as scheduling the giant municipal party, not rewriting doctrine. All those who tut about the commercialization of the Baby Jesus’ birthday should be mollified by separating the two. Get a smash cake for Midnight Mass to keep it real and let the gold, frankincense, and myrrh shine on their own a couple months down the road. Everybody’s happy. Schedule-wise, if we run into Easter, so be it. Born, reborn; potato, potahto. Eggnog is a million times better than egg salad, and it’s more efficient for most of you to go to church once a year instead of twice anyway.
“Retail chaos!” Puh-leaze. Retail loves opportunity. They will invent Valentine’s-Adjacent Sales and call it a “Post-Equinox Clearance.” Economists will describe this as “calendar optimization.” Or maybe they’ll just call it Tuesday. America is already set up to maximize revenue extraction from a captive population, so absorbing this shouldn’t be an issue.
Look, this is not a manifesto meant to topple time itself. It’s a gentle plea to match our rituals to rhythms that make us less cranky and more coherent humans. I’ve been nudging at this idea for years; the logic hasn’t aged badly because it’s built on sunlight, sanity and the small joy of seeing family portraits taken when it’s still light out. Try it on for size. If nothing else, Marchmas gives the trees of Oak Park (and their decorations) a second chance to wear tinsel with dignity.
If you’re ready to lobby the calendar, I’ll start a petition, draft a press release, and find a senator with a sense of humor (or a reindeer in their backyard). If not, at least try leaving the lights up a little longer next winter. Your neighbors — and your serotonin — will thank you.
