Christmas Spirit Is Tough to Catch

With only a few days to go, the feeling isn’t here. Worse yet, I don’t think it’s coming. At a time when I should be overflowing with even more joy than usual and constantly humming “Jingle Bells,” it’s just not happening.

Maybe you have the same problem: no desire to buy Christmas presents or send cards.

The cynics (and a goodly number of friends and relatives) will attribute it to my being cheap. That’s a good one. You’re talking to the guy who last Christmas, when the yuletide spirit filled him to the bubbling-over point, went on a buying binge not seen since the last time Dennis Rodman came across a jewelry sale.

Don’t you love those moods? You get in “the zone” and the great gift ideas just come pouring out, dollar amount be darned. Last year’s mood resulted in a classic gift to my 12-year-old nephew: an instructional kit on how to juggle.

You’re right; it was a brilliant idea. The fact that the boy didn’t fully appreciate the gift is beside the point. What’s important was the creative energy that went into thinking of it. A lesser uncle just going through the motions would have gotten him a standard-issue ball cap or another dopey video game. Instead, I was in the zone.

But that was last year.

This year, the kid is going to get a card with some cash in it. And -- I’m willing to announce publicly here -- not very much cash. The same for my 10-year-old niece, who’s a doll and deserving of much better. As for my three siblings, good luck.

The malaise includes Christmas cards. Even as cards from friends mount in the house, I haven’t sent a one. You think that makes me feel good? Not one little bit.

Friends and relatives full of holiday joy have sent messages of good will and informative letters on how the last year has gone. Their happiness leaps off the pages. I’m displaying their cards and wondering why I can’t muster the will to go buy a box of cards on my own.

Instead, here’s how low I’ve sunk: My mother is visiting this month, and I’ve asked her to sign my name on the cards she’s sending out. I’m trying to sell it to her as the start of a trend: the mother/son holiday greeting card. She probably sees through that.

She and I have hung stockings for each other (that is, she got the stockings and I tied them to the stairway railing). I have a gnawing fear she’ll be the only person in America to wake up Christmas morning with an empty stocking. Even knowing that such a lack of consideration might affect her willingness to cook Christmas dinner isn’t motivating me to fill it up.

Mom is doing almost everything by herself. She got my little 12-inch Christmas tree out of the closet and dressed it up and put on the table. She offered me a bite of fruitcake and I refused. She brought a string of lights downstairs. She did convince me to help her string them. Early indications are that they look pretty good.

Unless they come crashing down.

See what I mean? Where is the spirit of St. Nick when I need it?

Maybe you’re wondering why I don’t just fake the whole thing. Why not paint on a happy face and buy presents for everybody?

No can do. In the same way I love buying presents when the spirit moves me, I hate to do it as an obligation. I may be a grump but a principled grump. You don’t honor the sacred commercial aspect of Christmas by giving under false pretenses.

I probably need round-the-clock Christmas music or to be taken on a tour of holiday-decorated houses. Maybe Mom could read “ ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” to me.

I really do want to get the feeling. I’d love to wake up tomorrow morning and have the ol’ zip back, the ol’ burning desire to head for the mall.

Most likely, I’ll sleep in.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. He can be reached at (714) 966-7821 or at dana .parsons@latimes.com.