Oh, you didn’t know Christmas was hidden in Magic throughout all these years? Everyone at GatheringMagic wishes you the happiest of holidays, and instead of taking a week off, I decided to grab a few images that came to my mind. Being a Vorthos has its benefits, such as instantly being able to think of cards that fit themes. Buzzfeed’s “20 Images That Are Totally Christmas” or a Vine video of “Bad Magic Players Across from Me Are Like . . . ” are just stupid-easy for us to write. We know art, and in case you don’t, here’s a Christmas article!

Now, I’m not all politically correct like one of my brothers, arguing how Saturnalia was appropriated by Christians, making the holiday into Jesus H. Christ’s birthday, but I find the holidays comical—we find many traditions just comically trite, yet we do them anyway. Even secular humanists do their “season of reason” to not be left out. I guess we all convince ourselves that this time of year is to be celebratory. It is the end of our calendar year.

To kick off the holiday season, let us start with Hanukkah because it came crazy-early this year. I wish we had more Magic cards that represented the Jewish faith on a subtle level, but I see a menorah and dreidel when I see them. It just takes a little looking between the lines I guess.

It came early this year, enjoying the festival of lights. Can an artist be sent a reference to eight days of light in the near future? Please? Hook them up.

We didn’t have a tree this year in our household—far too busy with a holiday show. I do miss chopping a tree down. I only was able to do so once in my rural village; we normally just bought one from the Boy Scout tree sale, but when we did, it was something thrilling. I felt as though it connected me to holidays of old, when ninety percent of the Christmas music was recorded, all croon-style. I used to go to Christmas markets, back in Germany, and some Wisconsin cities still have them with the traditional mulled wine (Gluehwein) tastings along the way. Sadly, Minneapolis and Saint Paul, MN don’t really have them.

I had a late start picking up gifts this year—ever trying to stay local, but damn is Amazon easy. Oh man. I should’ve just called up Santa’s elves, but I missed their super-saver shipping. I always forget the cutoff date.

I really took my time this year in picking gifts. Do people who did extraordinary deeds deserve better gifts?

What if someone was a terrible human? Should I just give that person a gift that makes it appear that I didn’t think at all?

Should the wiener dog that stole food off the table receive any? Should the poorly-behaved beagle?

I erred on the side of caution and covered the bases, but I only swung for the fences with the Mrs. I figure she deserves that.

Oddly, my wife Emily and I only had one work party and no holiday parties to attend. It was rather refreshing this year. We have a pile of wine we normally bring to these parties to give away, as we rarely drink wine with food. We somehow end up with a lot of it each year.

Thank God we’re past the whole question of, “Will he,” or, “Won’t he propose over the holiday.” That grew old fast with aunts and uncles. I have a friend who’s in that stage now, and it’s hard to not be cliché this time of year. Poor guy. He just needs to do it. She’s already making contingency plans, and every day makes another way to justify it. Boys? Man up, and get it done. You play too much Magic anyway. Start planning a wedding, and then you’ll really need Magic to oddly relax.

I live in Minnesota. It’s a state known for three things: price, our orchestra in disarray, and snow. Due to where Minnesota sits in the U.S.A., the cold Canadian air comes directly down off their Canadian Rocky Mountains. We’re known for big weather—it can be −20 degrees Fahrenheit in the winter and 100 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer. Often, we have a normal winter day, from 20 to 40 degrees, with wild, unpredictable storms seemingly coming out of nowhere in the fall. Summer is the same way, with rain miraculously forming due to Lake Superior and having over ten thousand lakes. It’s predictably unpredictable, so you take the Boy Scout motto seriously: Be prepared.

We drove through a light snow on the way to my wife’s parents’ house. While there, I never sleep that well. It could be from the “ghost”—or perhaps “faerie”—that every family member very much believes is real that travels with them through their antiques. But it could be the four-hour drive that exhausts me and being cramped in a smallish bed. Maybe it’s a little of A and a little of B.

Of course, a holiday weekend will have a pretty serious snowball fight—even though someone will invariably make an ice ball.

Poor Australians and Kiwis and their Christmas being during their “summer.” Must be oddly not as awesome.

I do love the odd food combinations I only have once a year.

Emily’s sisters are crazy particular with food; we have legitimately only three restaurant options that aren’t bar establishments. Eating steak with chicken noodle soup is normally great, sure, but chicken Kiev with breakfast is a little odd.

We also often insist that we cook. It’s not that either of our mothers are bad cooks—not at all. It’s just that with stress and a gigantic number of people, food can become odd quickly. A turkey set to 325 degrees for hours is very different than a turkey on 125 for hours. We’ve been there and seen that.

I do love getting together with family just to see a booze-lined feast with names on all the cups. For a brief moment, it’s like growing up again.

We have a tradition of white elephant: that absolutely terrible or hilarious gift to be opened. After a silly amount of food and booze, we conduct a family gift exchange of these gifts, filled with photos and hilarity. The more conservative members often have commentary, and occasionally, a racist comment is thrown out, and many of our heads are shaken.

That evening ends, and if you’re German, you open on December 24. If not, onward to December 25, and gifts are opened!

You hope your rich uncle is still doing well—he gives the biggest gifts, and they balance out your other weird uncle’s ideas.

Jesus’ birthday from the Star of Bethlehem shares it with our boy Santa Claus. I’d like to think that Santa Claus had way longer hair, was a younger dude, and would’ve been super-awesome in the 1980s.

But, ugh, you have to head to church.

We used to go to the Saint John’s University abbey for midnight mass because the Saint John’s Boys Choir would sing, and oh biscuits. You felt connected to some medieval choir—a bond to the past. I do miss that part of organized religion—incredible music at times.

Get the bread, get the wine, and you’re home in under an hour. As it’s Catholic-made, you know it’s crazy-long and annoying, but I think they’re working on shortening things due to the ADHD culture we’re in. Otherwise, I’m sure people would tweet during the service. “Gold robes? #swag”

We had a tradition on my Linnemann side of the family to visit a graveyard.

It became a standing joke that if you got out of line, you’d have to take a cemetery tour. My aunt, the matriarch of our family, passed away, and since then, we haven’t really conducted a tour. We lost our general store in the town we founded, all inheritances lost to the depression, embezzlement, and a mini-recession in 1990, while our lineage has struggled to produce males. My father was the only son in his family, and luckily, he had three sons for himself, but it’s an interesting thing to see so many Linnemanns in one place. I’ll actually be visiting the site in fourteen hours or so. Emily won’t be thrilled about it, but she’ll understand. There’s a gas station for a fountain Diet Coke across the street, so it won’t be all atrocious for her. (She’s crazy-addicted to Diet Coke.)

The days following Christmas, I hope your family has a serious discussion about their estate, living will, and charitable donations. Due to the tax benefit by December 31, having a few days to get things in order is pretty normal. This is also the only real time to bring it up without it feeling very forced or awkward with your parents. I hope you’ll gain some insight into what you’ll be inheriting and that all your siblings will leave excited. (I get the Lincoln cent pennies in my family. Another brother will get the war medals.) Figuring out the family skeletons and real debt and seeing your place in the family will be rather eye-opening. Have a discussion; it actually brings everyone closer.

Every damn year, I forget about a gift I am supposed to give. I think it comes from my mother. I was given a hockey stick when I was seventeen . . . to be given six years earlier. I was still very happy about it, but it would’ve been a helluva lot more timely then!

Once all the gifts are opened, all your thank-you notes are written, and your travel is complete, I find the best thing to do is simply relax.

I hope you have someone to share it with, and if you don’t or simply don’t want to, I hope you can find a little rest before the onslaught of life floods in again. Enjoy your gifts while they’re still new—or even better, enjoy that $100 bill your grandparent gave you! Straight cash, homie.

Happy holidays!

- Mike

P.S. Sign the Magic art book petition.

P.P.S. If you see or hear of an Alpha art pieces, let me know.

P.P.P.S. I keep getting it deleted; can anyone help with the timeline project?