Here’s a piece I wrote for Northern Ohio Live magazine a few years ago. Very a propos for today:

A (Belated) Christmas Story

By: Milenko Budimir

Watch CNN the morning of January 7th and you’ll most likely see a 10-second segment depicting the inside of a splendidly iconed Orthodox church somewhere in Russia, filled with grandmotherly faces wrapped in babushkas, clouds of incense, and the angelic sounds of Orthodox choral music. The anchor, sitting inside a studio in downtown Atlanta, will intone: “And, for millions of Orthodox Christians, today is Christmas.”

As more people each year denounce the holiday season’s hyper-commercialization, the Christmas my family and I celebrate gets thankfully passed over. Christmas in my parents’ household continues to be a pretty simple affair. My parents, Serbian immigrants from the old Yugoslavia, practice the same customs and traditions as when they were kids.

Not much commercialism ever entered our celebration. One year, when I was 6 or 7, my father caved in to my incessant nagging and bought a plastic Santa Claus figure lit up by a single 25-W light bulb. When we plugged it in, a fuse blew, the house went dark, and that was the last time we had an illuminated Santa in the house. So much for commercialism.

For the most part, my parents unwittingly stuck to a keep-it-simple philosophy. This meant a holiday with plenty of pastoral overtones. Though sometimes, transplanting time-honored Balkan peasant traditions to urban America doesn’t go as smoothly as planned.

Take finding the perfect badnjak, or Yule log. The ideal sacrificial tree is an oak about five feet tall with a few browning leaves still clinging to dear life, too stubborn to let go. Finding our badnjak was always an adventure. Because there weren’t too many badnjak vendors set up in parking lots across the city, our quest took on the trappings of a covert mission.

The old-country tradition calls for the badjnak to be burned on the night before Christmas, called Badnje Vece or Yule Log Night. Seeing as how this was a tad impractical, we decided to do the next best thing; decorate it like a regular Christmas tree. I can still remember the looks on the faces of my friends who’d visit our house to play during our January Christmas season. They’d stare, puzzled, at the lifeless little oak tree, decked out with mini candy bars, oranges, and red apples, ropes of blue tinsel and Christmas lights blinking in unison with a dozen or so synthesized Christmas carols like “The First Noel” or “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

Then there was the inevitable back-to-school, after Christmas vacation ritual. The hot topic of conversation in class was always the presents everybody got for Christmas. Every year, I was usually the lone oddball who had to say “Nothing. But wait a week and I’ll tell you then.”

Now that I’m older, it’s easy to see that celebrating Christmas 13 days after the rest of the Western world has its advantages. Like crowd-free shopping. December 26th is the start of my Christmas shopping season. So while the rest of America is deciding which box of Valentine’s chocolates to buy, I’m picking up last-minute Christmas gifts. And saving 50%.

In the end, Christmas for our family, like for everybody who celebrates the holiday on December 25th, is first and foremost about the family being together. And food. In the early afternoon every January 7th, we sit down and feast on homemade chicken noodle soup, stuffed cabbage, roast pork and lamb, and an array of cakes and cookies. It’s all consumed slowly, lingering at the table over wine and conversation. And, of course, awaiting the 10-second sound-bite from Russia.