Life, 1920-12-02 · page 34 of 97
Life — December 2, 1920 — page 34: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a philosophical essay, not a political cartoon. Tarkington reflects on how children and adults experience Christmas differently. A child perceives only the immediate Christmas before them, wishing "it were Christmas Every Day." As one ages, the ability to recognize multiple Christmases past and future develops—yet paradoxically, time accelerates so dramatically that Christmases blur together. An adult experiences each Christmas as if it were "only yesterday," effectively achieving the child's wish through temporal distortion rather than fulfillment. The essay's deeper message is spiritual rather than satirical: Tarkington argues that true meaning lies not in Christmas's repetition but in using those hours to transcend "battle" and embrace human fellowship. The imagery of a "revolving spark" accelerating around "the whirling wheel of the years" captures this vertigo of aging. The piece suggests that genuine progress occurs when everyday life achieves Christmas's values—compassion and community—making every day feel like Christmas.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
O a child, last Christmas is long, long, long ago. Such vapory stretches of intervening time becloud his memory of it, he sees it feebly as a cluttering of dusty toys and dead candy in some prehistoric dimness. No more than a sawdust-leaking doll remains as doubtful proof that there ever was such a thing as a previous Christmas; and, having little regard for the insubstantial, he finds all old Christmases of no more account than far-away Christmases to come, which are unthinkable. His true thought is that there never was and never will be any Christmas except this Christ- mas—yet he says he “wishes it were Christmas Every Day!” As he grows older he better knows that there are other Christmases; that there was a last-Christmas, and that some- time there will be even a next-Christmas; and then, as he passes out of childhood, the Christmases come a little faster; he can keep several of them in sight at once. But when he leaves childhood, and youth, too, behind him—my soul} how time begins to spin round his head! And Christmas, on the rim of the whirling wheel of the years, is like a revolving spark of light going faster and faster until it seems here again before it has quite gone; so that we say, “ But last Christmas was only yesterday!" If this be true, then next Christmas comes to-morrow; the child, grown old, has his wish at last; and it is Christmas Every Day. Bright illusion! The rest of the year is battle. Yet through these few hours of Christmas we wish to be godlike, so we remember to be human, because a God became human on this day; and while the flying light upon the wheel gives illumination, we get a glimpse of what we battle for: to be done with battle and march on in a fellowship. When all the year round is truly Christmas Every Day, we shall be upon the borders of where we are going. comicbooks.com