After the third time someone bopped me on the head, I learned the true meaning of Christmas.

This happened years ago, while I was living in Chengdu, China.

The people of that city had a fun tradition, and I hope they are continuing it. On our holiest of holidays, they gathered in the city square. And under a giant statue of Chairman Mao Zedong, the people pummelled one another with inflatables.

The first time I engaged with this tradition, it was the only Christmas I had spent away from either family or close friends.

I was feeling low.

Christmas had been a meaningful holiday for me, as my mother made it special, always. Even in times when my family had little money, she found ways to fill our day with joy. There was food aplenty, decorations and music in our home.

The presents, most attributed to Santa even after my sister and I were grown, reached to levels above the tree’s lowest branches.

Betty Peterson continues to make each Christmas one of my favorite days of the year (even though Labor Day becomes evermore dear to me).

But it was in Chengdu that I really understood Christmas as a tradition I should maintain throughout the rest of my life.

By then, I was a full-grown adult in my 20s. Though I saw Christmas decorations in places in the big city, and though curious acquaintances asked me about my traditions, I decided I would not partake in the holiday.

A self-flagellating Grinch, who robbed himself of festivities, I chose to refrain from placing a tree in my home. I hung no decorations, made no plans and intended no recognition of a holiday I believed I had outgrown.

When some acquaintances told me of a gathering in Tianfu Square on Christmas, I jumped at the chance.

What better way to show I was over Christmas then to do something, anything, having nothing to do with it?

And I actually believed the gathering, whatever it was, would have nothing to do with Christmas.

As I approached the square, I saw hundreds, what seems to me as thousands, of people forming a crowd.

They brought air-filled bats, blow-up mallets and more.

I had no idea what was to come, but I soon would, after a coundown and an announcement to begin. That’s when people lifted their weapons and started bringing them down on one another.

Upon the first blow, I thought other people were targeting me, so I ducked and covered.

Upon the second blow, I realized I was being paranoid. Of course, they weren’t attacking me. There were far too many people to go after a single individual, and their weapons were harmless.

Upon the third blow, I cracked a smile. And, as with the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes that day.

I had fun, despite being unarmed. Also, I formed friendships at the event that lasted years after it. 

From then on, I have looked for different ways to celebrate Christmas. My gatherings have, in different years, involved family and friends. Some years, however, I spent the day alone. And on some Christmases, I struggled with sad life events.

One thing, however, I never again tried to blow off Christmas. I would, at least, try to put aside cynicism and negativity, and I would seek joy in various forms.

This year, I wish you the best holiday possible. Be well, be merry and look for something memorable.

Just don’t be caught without a bat.