No, no, this is NOT about the Mario of video game fame. This was a Mario I met in Corfu, Greece in 1974, while traveling by thumb and train with my best friend, Genevieve. We landed in London in April, 1974 and it was too cold for the clothes we brought with us so we stuck out our thumbs heading for warmer climates and ended up in Milan, Italy. Then we stuck them out again and found ourselves in Rijeka, Yugoslavia.

At that time cargo ships sold passage to weary travelers and we spread our sleeping bags on the deck of one and slept under the stars, story telling and singing with other adventurous young people from all over the world. A couple of days traveling down the Dalmatian Coast involved an overnight stop in the beautiful, ancient city of Dubrovnik. A very tired looking woman met us on the docks. For $2 we could sleep in her apartment. We went home with her and left our stuff there. She and her family looked oddly oppressed and possibly resentful of the young “rich” Americans traveling through their country. I felt sorry that we couldn’t seem to develop a friendly rapport with her and her family. Despite that, we had a wonderful dinner at an outdoor cafe under olive trees in the moonlight, and the next day enjoyed many, happy hours talking on the deck of the cargo ship as we sailed south. Finally we arrived on the island of Corfu.

We took a bus to the opposite side of the island which was remote and undeveloped. We climbed down a rocky cliff and camped on the beach for two weeks. We met other travelers there and shared simple meals of fresh cucumbers, tomatoes and feta cheese which we bought from a tiny shop in the village of Pelekas. We met Mario on that beach.

He was in his early 30’s and we were 19. He was a small, bearded man with a beautiful smile and a warm heart. He invited Genevieve and me back to his apartment in the town of Corfu which was on the opposite side of the island.

He extended generous, brotherly hospitality to us for another two weeks. He spoke English very well and cooked for us and let us stay with him. He was a big fan of American music and told us of a Christmas he had spent alone one year with his records; Joan Baez, Judy Collins and Bob Dylan -- American young people who had inspired him with their musical messages of peace and love. He told us about how lonely he had been, how the music had meant so much to him when he was all by himself. I wonder if Bob and Joan and Judy knew how much they had affected not only the American youth of the 1960’s but young people around the world. Mario would be about 65 now. I wonder how his life turned out, if he ever married, if he ever had children, if he ever came to America. When I think back on the kindness he showed Genevieve and I, I wish I could extend the same to him.

The Christmas season is upon us. Our local Walmart set up electric Santa Clauses and had snowmen in the aisles before Halloween had said its last boo. Why do I always feel that Christmas is like a horse on its way to the glue factory, beating itself into the new year without real spirit? It is as though we are kicking our spurs into something that needs to be redefined. The momentum and churning of the retail industry tries to excite humanity into climactic frenzied fulfillment on the 25th -- we join as families and friends and send cards and give gifts that are sometimes not very well thought out or person appropriate, yet we are compelled.

And that’s what leads me back to my friend, Mario, who was alone one Christmas in the early 70’s in Greece. He didn’t have anyone to celebrate with, didn’t give or receive any gifts, but he spent the day listening to music that was meaningful to him.

If we ask average people what is important to them about Christmas they would probably say things like being with family and friends, the music, the food, and the closeness and affection that the holiday represents. I doubt that anyone would miss the crowds, the tacky and tawdry items for sale, or the high credit card balances.

I motion we dismantle this Dr. Frankinscense’s Monster and rebuild it from the cellular level. Let’s recreate the holiday truly based on the joy of Jesus’ birth, rooted in familial intimacy and devoid of the retail circulatory system of sales and gimmicks. Let’s bake some goodies, sing some songs and sit by a fire and see how that works for a few hundred years. I bet nobody will miss the 20th century version. And Mario, wherever you are, I raise my glass and wish you every blessing.