I Want to Be Ebenezer Scrooge

I Want to Be Ebenezer Scrooge

Marley was dead to begin with. 

So begins Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol, and so we are introduced to one of the most famous figures of literature, an icon, the archetype of misers, Ebenezer Scrooge himself. 

Just the mention of the name conjures up visions of the counting house, an old man huddled with his gold-- the gold which warms his heart-- as his hapless clerk sits shivering in the anteroom.  

Scrooge who,"was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.  

Hardly a role model. But I want to be Ebenezer Scrooge.

No one loved Scrooge and Scrooge loved no one. Scrooge scorns his clerk, Bob Cratchit, and the gentleman who attempt to make provisions for the poor at this time of year -- Christmas.   

Of all the things Scrooge disapproves of, Christmas ranks first. 

'If I could work my will,' said Scrooge indignantly, 'every idiot who goes about with "Merry Christmas" on  his lips should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.'

Scrooge's nephew Fred, Scrooge’s only family, argues, 

  ' ... I have always thought of Christmastime when it comes round… as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave,…. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good and will do me good; and, I say, God bless it'

Fred has his uncle pegged. His heart is shut-up, he values gold and silver above goodness, kindness, charity and forgiveness. He considers those who make merry as crazy, and later, dismisses a plea for charity, saying that those who need it should die… and decrease the surplus population.'

Scrooge goes home on this foggy, frosty Christmas Eve and is met by the ghost of Marley who has come to warn him that if he does not change his ways, he will be fettered with a chain long and ponderous, forged link by link and yard by yard by the selfish irons of Scrooge's life. 

Why, Scrooge wonders, has Marley returned to trouble him?

'It is required of every man,' the Ghost returned, 'that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and, if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to wander through the world.. and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness.'

Scrooge begs for comfort, but Marley offers him none: 'I have none to give ... it comes from other regions, Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed by other ministers to other kinds of men."  

So Scrooge must meet his three ghosts, his past, his present, and, if he does not change, what will be his future.  

The most frightening of the spirits, The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come shows Scrooge a world that has decided he was surplus. No one is willing to attend the old sinner's funeral except one, who will only go if a lunch is provided. His belongings are stolen and sold. No one misses him. No one mourns him.  Everyone judges him lost-- and good riddance.

Scrooge begs the Ghost to offer him hope, but the Ghost points unflinchingly to the grave, Ebenezer's own grave, untended, forgotten, alone. Scrooge has come to an ignominious end. But at this very ending, Scrooge refuses to accept his fate. He cries out:

'I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. .... Good spirit... your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me by an altered life?'

Yes, I want to be Ebenezer Scrooge.  

At the end of his resources, this bitter, wretched old man begs for forgiveness, repents and is redeemed. He promises to change, to honor Christmas in [his] heart and try to keep it all the year. 

Scrooge awakens and praises heaven and Christmas for this second chance. He sobs, laughs, and dances about his no longer gloomy rooms. He is changed!  

He sends a turkey to the Cratchits, gleeful at the prospect of the surprise he will give them. He promises the charitable gentleman a gift to make up for the years he had forgotten the poor. He goes to church, watches people, pats children on the head, and finds everything delightful. He humbles himself before Fred who welcomes him as one lost, but now found. And he promises Bob Cratchit that he will endeavor to assist [his] struggling family.  

Why do I want to be Ebenezer Scrooge? Am I a miser? Do I hoard my gold? Do I disdain mankind? I am ashamed to say I do. I am miserly with the gifts I have, forgetting that I have been given them to spend freely on my fellow man. I forget to share with others. I am as bad as Ebenezer ever was.

  

But I want to be like Scrooge, for Scrooge was better than his word. 

... He became as good a friend, as good a master and as good a man, as he had been intended to be. Some people laughed at the change in him, but he was wise enough to know, that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; ... His own heart laughed, and that was quite enough for him.

   

Ebenezer's heart was filled with the joy of Christmas. And that is why I want to be Ebenezer Scrooge.  

I want to be filled with joy. I want my heart to laugh. I want to walk among mankind and know, that it is my business to love them.

May that truly be said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!

(All quotes from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens 1843)

Incredibly Wealthy

Incredibly Wealthy

When I was a teenager, my father and I had an argumentative relationship. It seemed to me that whatever I said, he took the opposite side. We had some epic arguments. One that especially sticks in my mind is the question of our family’s economic condition.

I maintained that since I couldn’t have everything I wanted we were poor. My father countered that we were NOT poor; we were incredibly wealthy. You can imagine my astonishment. What was he talking about? 

I looked around my crowded house. All three sisters shared one bedroom while my three brothers shared the room next door. My father’s father, my mother’s mother, and the six of us shared one bathroom. My closet was pretty empty. My friends wore the latest fashions and rode three-speed bikes. I wore a school uniform (which I hated) and still rode my “little kid” bike.

We didn’t go on vacations or eat in restaurants. Sure, we visited family and were fed until we burst, but how could homemade pasta fagioli compare with a Big Mac or trips to Disneyland? We didn’t snack because there weren’t any in our pantry. We had dessert on Sundays only — a half-gallon of Neapolitan ice cream which disappeared in a swirl of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry in seconds. 

Our clothes and furniture were hand-me-downs. We watched the picture on one TV set but heard the sound from another picture-less one perched on top. My father hand-built our stereo and we all crammed into our old station wagon whenever we traveled.

Where did my father see wealth in this picture? 

After I stormed about a bit, I confronted my father again. Where was this wealth and how was I missing out on it?

 He told me. I didn’t believe him then, but I understand now.

He said, “You have your health.” 

My father suffered from ill health most of his life. As a child, he had severe asthma. He spent his early years trying to breathe. As a young man, he lost a leg to cancer. He survived because he had to — he was a husband and father to five young children. Now we were six, all healthy, and he fathered like any other, teaching us to ride our bikes, coaching Little League, and flying kites while on his crutches with his inhaler in his pocket. 

He said, “You have your family.” 

My mother cared for her husband, six children, her mother, and her father-in-law without complaint. She worked in and outside of the home yet still bagged every lunch and cooked every dinner. My siblings, as annoying as I thought they could be, were (and still are) my closest friends. Our huge Italian family loved us with a passion. I had more cousins than I could count.

He said, “You have your faith.” 

We attended church as a family every Sunday. The gifts under our Christmas tree may have numbered fewer than our friends had, but the reason we celebrated was engraved in our hearts. 

He said, “You have laughter and joy.” 

We had Nonna’s “practical jokes” — putting our shoes away where we would never find them (our closets) and mixing up our dozens of socks. We had Grandpa’s symphony of whistles. We giggled our way through dinners and family car trips. We sang — oh, how we sang! 

He said, “You have love.” 

Never in my life did I not feel loved. My father argued with me, but I knew he loved me. My busy mother loved me. My annoying siblings loved me. My grandparents loved me. My innumerable aunts, uncles, and cousins loved me. And I loved them.

Incredible wealth: family, faith, health, joy, laughter, love.  My father was right. We were incredibly wealthy. 

I hope you and your family are too.