Merry generic, nondescript wintertime holiday greetings to all.

Wait, wait – my editor just told me to remove the word “holiday” from my intro so as not to offend those who actually celebrate no holidays during the wintertime at all. So start over but don’t read “holiday.”

Back with me now? All right, let’s go.

In an effort to include everybody in our happy winter festivities, it’s easy to lose track of the point of the season at all. Hell, I don’t know the point of the season to be honest with you. But I am familiar with stepping on toes when trying to get across a sentiment of good cheer.

Even after tearing off my own veil of December-is-for-Christmas-only blindness and treading eggshells so that I do not exceed my quota of political incorrectness, I still make my share of blunders that exclude “them other holidays.”

Working at a grocery store in high school, it was the norm to wish everybody a merry-whatever-it-is-you-celebrate, because reminding folks of the holiday season is a discrete way to say “Your tip was not satisfactory. Please enlarge it.” I always wished customers “happy holidays” rather than the typical “Merry Christmas!” for fear that I’d throw the big MC to someone of the Hanukah or Ramadan persuasion.

That faux pas is something more and more people must be aware of as we take baby steps toward including everyone and his brother in just about everything. We must never throw out politically incorrect terms that to the mainstream are slips of the tongue, but to others scream “Wait, you wanted to be in on this, too? You’re not even wearing a Santa sweater.”

Even I have a Santa sweater. Got it from the big guy himself after bumping into him at the mall. Seems Santa’s been in a bit if a rut lately – the last time I spoke to him his voice didn’t have that “belly like a bowl full of jelly” quality.

Santa’s worried about the job market this year. Seems in a world spooked by terrorist attacks and potential war in the land of the free some folks have grown fond of a new Christmastime mascot, some fellow who calls himself Jesus.

So I says to Santa, “Santa,” I says, “You ain’t gotta worry `bout nuffin’.”

“Christ, Cav!” Santa replied. “What’s happened to your grammar?”

And that’s when it dawned on us – this Jesus guy, the one everyone had been talking about, it was the Jesus. You know, Jesus Christ.

So Santa and I, we get Rudolph to take us to the nearest Hallmark store and we go through all the Christmas cards looking for some mention of “Jesus,” to see if maybe we can figure out why it is everybody’s gotten in this Jesus-frenzy just because it’s Christmastime.

But we can’t find any mention of the guy in any of the cards. Hallmark’s got all the normal Christmas mascots: there’s Frosty and the elves and that candelabra thingy for the other holiday – Santa and I ponder a moment why it is they never designed their own holiday character and how it’s lasted so long without one. But we find no mention of this Jesus guy or why he’s so intent on pushing Santa out of the Christmas scene.

We looked for minutes but found no clues. Mrs. Claus called Santa on his cell phone and told him he had to go back to the North Pole – something about one of the elves getting fresh with Blitzen.

It was going to be up to me, Santa said before he hopped on Rudy and took off, to solve that whole Jesus mystery.

But try as I might I’ve found no true meaning of the holidays. To me, Christmas Day has always had something to do with a 24-hour entertainment-fest-induced stupor.

It seems I’m not the only one that’s a bit confused about the true meaning of the holidays, though. Even though we’re all celebrating very different things, we like to come together and pretend we are sharing the same experience. In a way, I suppose we are. But I’m sure a stocking full of Nintendo games isn’t the universal experience; to some the holidays mean simply sharing time with family, and to others it is not a materialistic venture at all, but a purely spiritual celebration.

The fact that we do take part in very different celebrations speaks something about our humanity, says that no matter how large of a role trees, carols or menorahs play in our own generic, nondescript wintertime festivities, we’re each gripping onto the same notion that if we set aside at least a few days of the year to celebrate something, it makes the rest of the year that much more bearable.

I imagine Santa’s going to be pissed when he realizes he’s not really the epicenter of Christmas – he may even try to get people to start calling it Santafest again, like back in ’92.

“Maybe it’s time Santa stopped bringing you Nintendo games then,” my pal Frosty the Snowman tells me after I explain my holiday revelation. “Maybe you need to redefine your own meaning of the holiday season – and maybe even redefine the meaning of your life. There’s got to be more to Christmas than expecting Santa to bring you presents.”

Frosty and I share a reflective moment, sipping chilled cocoa (the guy’s scared as hell of hot beverages). I mull over the snowman’s words in my head, marveling at the wisdom that sometimes flows from just below that carrot nose.

Then Frosty leans in, whispers real quiet so the other kids don’t hear, “Besides, I hear this Jesus guy can get us some X-Boxes.”

Cavan Reagan is a junior in journalism and mass communication and English from Bellevue, Neb. He is the research assistant for the Daily.