He’s jolly.
I looked up the definition of “jolly,” and quickly found several dictionaries which claimed that the word is so little used that it has become “archaic.”
In other words, “Move over, Grandpa. No one under the age of seventy knows what you mean.”
Jolly is not complicated.
Jolly simply means “to purpose to be exceedingly glad.”
We don’t favor that anymore. We have this idea that we demonstrate our true worth by appearing strained, overworked, busy—and just a little bit cranky.
We assume someone who’s jolly has no worries whatsoever and therefore can presume to be frivolous.
But here’s a clue: that would not refer to Santa Claus.
You’d have to agree that he has a pretty big job. He’s supposed to provide toys and gifts for all the children of the world. And even though the calendar says he has three hundred and sixty-four days to do it, that would still require manufacturing and packaging millions of toys every single day.
What further complicates the Toymaker’s pursuit is that his employees have very tiny hands. I don’t know why he chose to labor with elves, but I certainly hope there won’t be a scandal over how much he pays them.
Also, I don’t know why he’s jolly since he’s so fat.
It certainly doesn’t make anyone else happy, with its threat of heart disease and diabetes. Being jolly would almost appear to be insanely in denial.
Yet for some reason, he giggles his way through several million chocolate chip cookies on one passage across the globe. (I wonder what that does to his blood sugar…?)
Meanwhile, how do you keep up with the inventory? The budget must be frightening. And on top of that, he’s supposed to be involved with animal husbandry—caretaking a whole team of reindeer.
Did I mention the fact that he runs a mailroom? And supposedly the billion or so letters which come his way every year—well, it’s claimed that his eyes fall on every list.
Then, after all of this concerted effort, he also has to deal with a wide range of disbelief. Each one of us probably would groan and moan at the first suggestion that we aren’t real, or we’re “against Jesus,” or that it’s time to hang up the red suit and “put the old boy on a diet.”
Yet, throughout history, including literature, one of the first words used to describe Old Saint Nick is “jolly.”
It kind of makes you wonder what we achieve by trying to appear so adult and contemplative.
It certainly doesn’t draw children.
And it doesn’t make us the point of focus for one full month a year, while those on their way to Bethlehem to worship the Christ child stop off to see Saint Nicholas, requesting their hopes and dreams.
Joy to the world should never be stated or sung by a grumpy believer.
Go ahead–try jolly.
At the very least, it’ll give you a word that you have to explain to all the millennials.
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