I live in a tiny town about half an hour outside of Atlanta that doesn't really have any stores, but at some point over the last few years, a Dollar General popped up about a mile and a half from my house. And I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a regular there. My animals are out of food? Run down the street and grab something to hold them over until I can go to Tractor Supply. I'm out of Diet Coke? Easy fix. Chocolate craving? There's plenty of it at the Dollar General.
It's my go-to for OTC meds and certain toiletries. And best of all, I can run in there in whatever I happen to be wearing — workout clothes, pajamas, flipflops when it's 40 degrees outside — because most days, I'm the only person in there, and the cashier never judges. I think that's written into their handbook.
My point is that this little Dollar General down the road from my house is practically a second home at this point, a place of comfort where I can buy cheap food and goods without having to go out into Real Civilization, but when I walked in there last week on November 12 in the year of our Lord 2025, I felt like I was under attack.
Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You" was blaring from the speakers at full volume. It hit me like a rogue reindeer on a pre-Christmas bender. I hadn't even bought my Thanksgiving turkey yet.
As I continued my tour through the store, the music got louder and more obnoxious. I'm pretty sure every song from my friend and colleague, Chris Queen's, list of the 10 Worst Christmas Songs of All Time played. Maybe even all of them at once. By the time I got to the register, the cashier, a man in his thirties, maybe, asked me how I was, and my response was, "Are you really playing Christmas music already?" He didn't respond, at least not verbally, but when I looked up, I saw that he had a string of garland wrapped around his neck and a big grin on his face. One of those people.
It's one of the biggest debates of the holiday season. How soon is too soon for Christmas music?
Polls show that most people — around 52% — feel that waiting until after Thanksgiving is most appropriate. 26% say anytime after November 1 is fine. Around 11 percent say any time of year is okay, while 9% say we should just wait until December. And 2% say it shouldn't be played in public at all. Bah, humbug to them.
The arguments for and against are valid. Those who say wait claim that it's disrespectful to Thanksgiving, that playing it for too long makes it less special or leads to overexposure, and that it rushes the year along too quickly. Those who are for it say it puts you in a good mood, builds anticipation, and creates a festive atmosphere. Plus, it's not like there are any Thanksgiving songs.
At one point in my life, I was the girl who listened to Christmas music practically year-round. It was a passion I shared with my late grandmother when I was a kid. I remember when she was on her deathbed, succumbing to cancer in December 1996, my family was doing everything we could to keep her comfortable. I finally asked my mom and aunt why they weren't playing Christmas music for her. Later that day, my mom told me that'd been a great suggestion as it had finally put a smile on her face.
Oh, and that overplayed Mariah Carey Christmas album? Confession: I played the heck out of it as a kid 365 days a year.
But I'm not the same girl who finds joy in secular Christmas songs anymore. Life has a funny way of doing that. In college, I worked at a large retail store for three years, and nothing will cure you of enjoying Christmas music faster than having to hear it 30-40 hours a week on a loop while customers muster up every ounce of their holiday cheer to shout at you because something they want isn't in stock, and throw things because the price was wrong.
Admittedly, as I got older and realized life wasn't all sunshine and roses, Christmas music even made me sad at times. It transported me to the childhood I'd never get back, the grandparents and other family members long gone. When my mom got sick, it felt like a sharp little reminder that she wouldn't be around forever. As I got even older and realized the children I'd always longed to have were becoming less and less likely, it felt like a symbol of mourning.
According to Dr. Rhonda Freeman, a clinical neuropsychologist, I'm not alone in this. "Our response to Christmas songs depends on the association," she told NBC News.
"Many of us associate this music with childhood and a happy time of presents and traditions and all the specialness that happens around that time of year. When the brain makes these associations with something very positive and pleasurable, the rewards system is being activated [which triggers] a number of chemicals including dopamine," she continued. "Some people had abusive childhoods, or they experienced a loss of some kind or a person someone passed away. The reward system can also be associated with pain. For that population, Christmas songs can be very painful to hear."
These days, I'm learning to love it again, but in smaller doses. I'd say I fall into the "wait until after Thanksgiving" camp. And my tastes are a lot less campy. Give me the Cambridge Singers over Carey, for example. My absolute favorite Christmas song these days is the choir's version of "The Holly and the Ivy." I actually do listen to that year-round, along with a few songs from Amy Grant and Sarah McLachlan.
Unfortunately, I don't think I'll ever hear these tunes in the Dollar General, though. So, what say you? How early is too early for Christmas music?
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