An Antidote to the Holiday Industrial Complex

As long as the candle is burning, it is still possible to mend.

Photo: Instagram.com/vintagevspot

I know you’re here for hot takes on cool records, but if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to (re)share something important.

With each passing year, Christmas—and the holidays in general—seem to go by faster & faster, and ask more and more of us. There’s a blitz of parties, shopping, and a bunch of other obligations that seem to pop up out of nowhere- and why did we decide that ugly sweaters were now a thing, anyway?

One of the collateral victims of this frenzy is the idea of slowing down, of using this stretch to reflect on where you're at vs. where you want to be—to tie up any loose ends you may still have. I promise On Repeat will never become a “health and wellness” newsletter (hard pass), but I do think carving out some time to silence the white noise matters. It's in that space that what’s essential becomes visible. This can take many forms- whatever’s easiest for you is what will work the best.

For me, it starts with how my family spends Christmas Eve. What began as a desperately needed respite from the machinations of consumer culture—and needing to get two toddlers out of the house—became something hallowed in our home. I can probably count on both hands how many times all 4 of us have eaten dinner together this year, and it seems like we’re all going in different directions at once. But for one day, we spend time with each other. We’re not quite 100% offline, but we get as close as we’re ever gonna get.

I first penned this as a guest post for my friend

Kit Campoy

. Her newsletter is for you if you are currently in—or a survivor of— retail. Anyone in a front-facing position who aims to be a leader and not simply a manager will also find value here.

But I digress…

Not much has changed since I first wrote this, and honestly, that makes me incredibly happy. In a world where chaos reigns supreme, it’s nice to know that some things stay steady.

Christmas Eve in Wisconsin

With everyone a little older now, those earlier questions mentioned in the story aren’t always asked. Having two teenagers means a different dynamic, with the emphasis instead on family, turning the volume down, and slowing down to the speed of life.

Christmas Eve is a day to take stock, fix what I can (or want to), and give myself permission to let the rest go. Sometimes, this works, and sometimes, it doesn’t. Progress, not perfection!

For years, I have been inspired by a short story my dear friend Dave once shared. In any shitty job, having the right coworker can make all the difference. Maybe they’re funny. Maybe they’re agents of chaos (especially critical if you're in retail: see above), or perhaps they’re just genuinely interesting and make you think. Dave is all three.

Exiled to graveyard together, we would spend the small hours talking about, well, just about anything you can think of: the Bolshevik Revolution…state politics in 1970s Virginia (where he was from)… and the use case for not giving your company your phone number. Everything was on the table, and nothing was out of bounds.

Sometimes I learned, and sometimes, I taught. I was always pushed intellectually. Did he make a lasting impression on me? Let’s just say that for a solid year, my employer listed the wrong number for me, and I didn't bother correcting it.

The takeaway here isn’t about phone numbers but the value of valuable people in your life. Maybe you share a bloodline. Other times, it's a case of proximity. Occasionally, you both get hired by the same airline and share the same lack of seniority.

Time, geography, and real-life have meant that we’re in different places today (literally & figuratively). Even our uniforms are different. Our relationship is largely digital anymore, taking place in spaces like FB Messenger. He first shared this after a friend of his had passed. Dave had spent a lot of time mistakenly thinking he'd offended this person. It turned out to be crossed wires; thankfully, they could reconnect before the friend suddenly passed. That gift of forgiveness became one of the most cherished gifts Dave ever received. The upside is that, ultimately, it’s a gift you give yourself.

The short piece below is “ The Book of Jewish Values” by Rabbi Joseph Telushkin. It doesn’t matter your faith; we are all just human.

"The great rabbinic sage Rabbi Israel Salanter (1810-1883) was once spending the night at a shoemaker's home. Late at night, Salanter saw the man still working by the light of a flickering, almost extinguished candle.

"Rabbi Salanter went over to the man: 'Look how late it is; your candle is about to go out. Why are you still working?'

"The shoemaker, undeterred by the rabbi's words, replied, 'As long as the candle is burning, it is still possible to mend.'

"For weeks afterward, Rabbi Salanter was heard repeating the shoemaker's words: 'As long as the candle is burning, it is still possible to mend.'

"As long as there is life — as long as the candle is burning — we can mend. We can reconcile with those from whom we've become estranged, help make peace within our families, give charity, aid a friend in financial straits to establish himself or herself in business, and work on learning to express our anger fairly."

To Practice: What mending must you attend to while the candle is still burning?

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In my case, sometimes mending means making amends. Sometimes, it functions as convenient terminology for working on something I want to master (like keeping my eyes open when taking a picture). Sometimes, it's just a timely nudge to call or text an old friend.

Maybe you have similar plates you’ve been keeping in the air while figuring out the right time to act?

Maybe that time is right now.

Thanks for being here,

KA—