Christmas, a Birthday, and the Meaning of Moments

From Tom Jackson

When your birthday is on Christmas, people always ask the same question: “Doesn’t that suck?”

Time and time again, I keep telling them no. Usually followed by something clever, like I’m an ambassador of festiveness…in my own way. 

The truth is, it always felt special to me. However, after being asked that question enough times, it does start to make a person think.

I’ve come to realize that depending on one’s circumstances, having your birthday land on Christmas might not feel so great. 

Expectations, family dynamics, finances, loss — all of it can show up louder during this time of year. I’ve been fortunate. And maybe that’s part of why Christmas has always carried a little extra weight for me.

The lights go up, and something shifts.

When I was younger, Christmas was a blur of excitement. 

There were traditions that felt larger than life at the time — like going to Pizza Hut on Christmas Eve, something my family started the year I was born.

Christmas felt optimistic. I felt one year closer to growing up, one step nearer to taking on the world. There was always this sense that the new year held possibility, and Christmas was the runway into it.

Some of my earliest memories revolve around the Sears catalog. And while Christmas isn’t about gifts — and I hope this article makes that clear — try explaining that to a six-year-old boy. 

The Sears Wish Book — where Christmas imagination started long before we understood what gifts really meant.

That catalog filled my imagination. It represented possibility. If I could just figure out how to get my hands on some of those things, who knew what might happen?

Fast forward a few decades, and I fully understand the appeal of “just get me socks for Christmas.” 

I don’t want to be an inconvenience. I’d much rather spend time together — having a laugh, talking about ideas, or sharing the latest thing someone learned from YouTube.

As I’ve gotten older, Christmas has become more about reflection. It’s a dedicated time to weigh the year — the good and the bad — and ask myself a few questions:

What did I learn? 

What could I do better? 

How has my perspective changed? 

Where should I focus my energy this year?

One thing that hasn’t changed is how much I value going through this process around my family. 

We’re nuts in our own way. Sometimes we’re all together, sometimes we’re not. But no matter the year, I feel that Christmas energy — even when it’s heavy. It brings me calmness, clarity, and a deep appreciation for all of the moments that made up the year and sometimes my life.

I’ve experienced a few different kinds of Christmas over the years: a quiet one alone in New York, one in Maui with my cousin at the North Shore Lookout, some with other people's families. 

A very different kind of Christmas — slower, warmer, but still full of meaning.

But there’s something irreplaceable about Christmas with my family.

It’s sitting on the couch — sometimes laying on the floor — listening to the chaos. Your ears float between conversations. Kids arguing about the rules of the game and who’s in charge.

Siblings squawking about which house they were in when the dog ran away years ago. And somehow, miraculously, my parents are still around, yelling at each other to check whether what’s in the oven is burning.

It’s in these moments that I’m reminded that everyone is a little crazy — and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Another tradition, besides pizza on Christmas Eve, is that at some point during the day I’ll either get a call or hear the story — again — about the year I was born.

Apparently it was a day where anything went. Presents at 3 a.m. Visiting neighbors at 5 a.m. And then suddenly, how does going to meet your new brother sound?

They put me in a stocking and everything.

I don’t remember it myself, obviously, but I think that day bonded us in a way that still shows up every year. Being mindful of that helps put everything else into perspective.

Another year older, another Christmas — celebrated quietly, surrounded by the people who matter most.

These days, I tend to buy my own presents. They usually show up as business expenses — tools that help me keep building, learning, and elevating what I’m doing in life.

My mom and sisters have always made Czech dumplings — which are essentially wet bread, but somehow perfect alongside turkey, cranberries, and stuffing (not that I’m a huge stuffing guy). They’re even better the morning of the 26th, mixed with eggs, bacon, and whatever else makes its way into the hodgepodge.

I wouldn’t be sharing any of this without Tammie. 

Working together on Moments With Tammie has been a steady reminder to take stock in the moments that matter — and to be present for them.

In a world filled with AI, noise, and constant acceleration, sharing something meaningful and positive feels more important than ever. Sometimes people need something simple to rally around.

Being a Christmas baby felt like a place where I could offer a unique perspective. I don’t have fancy recipes — although I should probably ask my mom for her Czech dumpling recipe for a future article.

When it comes to building moments on purpose, this has become my new formula:

Make space. Slow things down enough to notice what’s happening.

Observe what’s already there. Moments don’t need to be created — just noticed.

Move with intention. How you show up changes everything.

Engage fully. Be there longer than is convenient.

Name the moment. Acknowledge it when it happens.

Take it with you. Let it shape how you move forward.

Share when it feels right. Not to perform — but to connect.

None of it is complicated. It just requires attention.

Presence doesn’t announce itself. You notice it when you slow down.

What’s Worth Protecting during the Christmas Season

One thing I’ve come to believe is worth protecting during the holidays is presence. Not perfection. Not productivity. Just presence.

It’s incredibly easy to lose — between expectations, schedules, and everything we think Christmas is supposed to look like. But when presence slips away, the moments go with it. And those are the things we end up missing long after the season passes.

A Christmas far from home — different scenery, same reflection.

Creating Your Own Moments

This season has a way of inviting us to create our own moments instead of trying to recreate someone else’s.

They don’t need to be big or polished to matter. Some of the most meaningful ones happen quietly — in conversations, laughter, or shared silence.

Intention tends to matter more than tradition. When you lead with that, moments have a way of finding you.

How I Want to Show Up This Christmas

This Christmas, I want to show up with calm, curiosity, and gratitude. For my family. For the chaos. For the quiet. And for myself.

If sharing this brings even a small sense of Christmas spirit your way — or encourages you to pass it along to someone else — then that feels like a moment worth creating.