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It is the beginning of fall, and my birch trees are once again idly dropping leaves on children walking to school. The end of summer always takes me by surprise, and I have learned to take care, lest this year, like others before, finds me in January feeling that I have missed something of consequence. At 57, having lived through many versions of the holiday season, I find that more than anything, I want to be reflective and mindful during these coming months.

A string of holidays make up the cultural paradox we face each year. Like wrestlers, the two sides square off: tradition, family and faith vs. media-driven consumerism. We will continue to see advertisers, like mad bumper cars, driving one holiday straight into the end of the other until there is no breathing room between Halloween and the start of January. But I would be a wretched liar if I did not admit my part in the creation of excess, more often than not. So I've found that the best choice for me is to take control of the meaning of this time and yet remain open to the vagaries of real life.

A memorable Christmas celebration occurred the year that we chose to disengage from our usual gift-giving habits. At the time, our family was further from perfect than usual, and it was likely that those of us who were difficult during the year would not be improved by the added expectations of holiday cheer. As teenage hormones ran rampant throughout our household, my husband and I made some new rules for gift giving:

• We could buy nothing — except, possibly, something secondhand that we could alter.
• Each person could only give one gift per family member.
• The gift was to represent, in some manner, an attribute of the person that the giver appreciated.
• Humor and sneaky secrecy were encouraged.

It was the Christmas Eve that nobody wanted to have end. I think these rules worked so well because they helped us avoid our usual conflict traps. None of us had to shop, spend money or be concerned about the adequacy of the gift. The giving of gifts was returned to its proper place: namely, as a vehicle to let others know that they are cared for and important. Because the gifts were representations of what we loved and admired about each other, the emphasis was on our means of expression rather than the cost of the gift. We could say what we wanted to say in our own way — be it serious, creative or humorous — and there was simply no way to be disappointed with any gift. No one was asked to be other than him- or herself. And we gave each other the chance to see something we might have failed to appreciate in another person. For example, my brother made our then teenage daughter a pair of earrings out of some huge bolts and nuts, saying he admired her individuality. Although they were not wearable, seeing them around the house helped us to appreciate her obstinacy a bit better. My gift from him was an entire box of beautiful cedar shavings — a mass of fragrant curls — to honor my creativity, which had been packed away along with my artist's tools for several years.

Our memories of holidays frequently drive our expectations, but we forget that often our recall has been edited by time into something more perfect than we can ever hope to recreate. Instead, we can embrace the celebrations as they come and create new, meaningful memories for the future.

So you might consider opting out of gift buying or even re-evaluate your gift-giving expectation. If you do, knowing why you are making this choice and understanding your alternatives are essential parts of making it work. You could otherwise risk coming to your senses again in January, thoroughly exhausted and knowing that your resolve had failed when you forced your children to make and distribute homemade fruitcakes to all your friends and relations. (My fruitcake is actually good, but so is particle board, if you soak it liberally in good rum for a month and a half!) Instead, refine how you choose to celebrate in a way that makes room for important personal meanings, yet still leaves enough time and energy to have those memorable moments.

As for me, my friends have grown used to getting Christmas cards in June or July. And after the letdown in January, I know there is always Random Acts of Kindness Day (February 17th) to celebrate.

Note: For an excellent booklet on simplifying the holidays, see the Center for a New American Dream at www.newdream.org.

Susanne Wichert, MA, LMHC is a former early childhood educator and social worker. She is currently a psychotherapist in private practice in Monroe, Washington. Susanne is also an artist and parental unit to three children, two of whom have fled to the relative safety of adulthood.

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