Even Mr. B&B got into the spirit. He soon lost the hat, though.
Christmas comes but once a year.
Too bad it has to come in December.
I come by these sentiments genetically. My father had what the family called “His Christmas Look.”
This look resembled what one might expect from a victim of peptic ulcers.
He wasn’t a Scrouge, not in the true Dicken’s form. He didn’t exactly hate Christmas. More likely he just dreaded it. My father was a worrier and he always worried about money the most. I fear I’ve inherited his outlook.
December is that month that all the money flows OUT: Property Taxes, the Biggest Transient Occupancy Tax bill, Inn Insurance, payroll, Mortgage. Very little flows in because Napa is a couples’ destination, not a family destination. Christmas is a FAMILY holiday. We live on reserves. Not unlike bears, but without the benefit of hibernating.
You, our dear guests help with this seasonal financial disorder: you come back to cheer us up. And you buy gift certificates. And this year you’re buying our wonderful sheets.
You can’t imagine what a joy it is to be given as a gift, and because of your generosity we are part of that giving.
By Christmas the onerous bills have been paid. The annual Holiday tour has kicked out the winter blues, replacing them with beautiful lights and cherished decorations.
As the Christmas carols waft through the inn mingling with the scent of Hot Mulled wine and Chocolate Chip Cookies even my spirits are lifted.
My father wasn’t an innkeeper, not until the last chapter of his life. By then his feelings for Christmas were too ingrained to change.
I have been an innkeeper nearly half of my adult life now.
While I can’t say I like Christmas (I’m much more of a “Thanksgiving kind of guy”) each year after I’ve seen Dicken’s classic Christmas Carol and Frank Zappa’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” I’m innoculated with the Holiday Spirit.
And I’m ready to welcome you all with a warm smile and Hot Mulled Wine.
Hey, even Scrouge smiled on Christmas!
