I graduated in '92, ostensibly my first "adult" Christmas sans my familia's dysfunctional Discovery Bay Mele Kalikimaka.
I took a solo road trip to The Big Mountain (aka Whitefish Mtn Resort). I was driving an 81 AMC Jeep CJ with a soft top/doors, the heater fan could only keep the bottom 1/3 of the windshield defrosted. At some truck-stop/gas station an uncontrolled nostalgic predilection forced me to buy "A Very Special Christmas 2" cd that I played on a Sony Discman, which had to sit in my lap while I drove because the suspension in the CJ made it skip, but the foam covered earphones kept my ears warm.
Boyz II Men's "Birth of Christ" reminded me of a contemporary version of Handel's Baroque "For unto us a child is born" from the Messiah, and Sinatra's/Cyndi Lauper's "Satna Clause is Coming to Town" duet made Frank seem overtly more hip n cool than he actually was. But the track from Run-D.M.C. "Christmas Is" became my anthem on that long cold ass drive. A rejection of the traditional monetization of Christmas and a view through the socioeconomic lens that revealed my sheltered existence and the disproportionality of the American experience. "I'm from the ghetto, now this means I get no toys or presents beneath my tree...Give up the dough...That's how Christmas is supposed to be...Fight poverty...Open your pockets, your heart unlock it...and turn my mommy lights back on, word"
I miss the exuberance of youth...I had the world by the balls back then and was going to f'up the status quo.
Ultimately, I ended up getting sad n homesick on that trip, skiing without my older brother and his friends tormenting me made me a lazy/sloppy skier, and the thought of waking up on Christmas morning without my Mom and presents was less appealing in reality than I had imagined it to be. I ended up calling my mom collect at like 4AM Hawaii time on Christmas morning (in the before times without cell phones, I had to call my Grandma's condo, get her to accept the charges then wake up Mom...lol) I made a cassette play list (that didnt skip like cd's) for melancholy ski mornings away from home after that, Zeppelin's "Going to California", Joni Mitchell's "California", the Dead "Estimated Prophet (California)".
Even though I've been married (a few times) and owned (several) homes, once my parents passed away, specifically Mom, my concept of "home" was never the same. For me, home had more to do with who was there, than where it was located. Mom's favorite Christmas song was all two and one half hours of Handel's Messiah, I always felt just the penultimate outro Hallelujah chorus was sufficiently Christmas-ey.
Anyway, sorry for rambling, at least it was cathartic.