I have probably spent a significant part of my adult life chasing the high of Christmas Eve in my childhood. Though Halloween was always my favorite holiday, Christmas Eve felt like this otherworldly time, when the whole world sat on edge, waiting for something magical to happen. And once the morning came, everything would be as it had been the year before. A homecoming. I haven’t felt that way about Christmas in a very long time, but tonight I feel that excitement once more. I see the pieces coming back together. The decorations I mourned last year reappearing, on neighbors’ lawns and doorsteps, in stores I visit. Pumpkins, real pumpkins, are alive and waiting once more, relevant again, no longer the rotting forms left over from a night no one seems to remember. We are seen. The world looks like a place I recognize again, and I don’t have to squint so hard to see it. I don’t look across the lake and imagine the green trees turning orange and red and yellow, because now they are. I d
When I was about two years old, my favorite movie was Beetlejuice. It was on HBO a lot at the time, and I was absolutely obsessed with watching it. I didn't understand the plot as a toddler, obviously, but something about the characters and setting, particularly the underworld scenes, pulled me in. I was entranced by it, and would have the type of tantrum usually reserved for when little ones don't get the toy or snack they wanted if something or someone pulled me away from it. I have a very distinct memory of once having to leave to go to my aunt's house in the middle of it, and having a total meltdown. Luckily, my aunt lived maybe a five minute car ride from my childhood home, so she put it on for me once we got there. I suppose Beetlejuice was my very first comfort movie. My love for the movie remained as I got older. In my late teens, I became very much a "Burtonphile", as many referred to the Tim Burton fandom back then, devouring everything Tim Burton touc