Early December is the storm before the calm. Blink ahead a couple of weeks, and the serenity of the season will grace us. At least, that’s the way it always has been: There will be time after all the preparations for mellowing out.

But not right now, when we’re tumbling and spinning as if in a pre-holiday tornado, swept up in the air one minute, sent hurling sideways the next. Most of this whirlwind is self-induced: too much Christmas caffeine, so to speak, similar to those enhancement drugs certain baseball players have been using to pump up themselves into helium balloons.

Contributing to this seasonal storm are major advertisers who batter us daily like hail in a violent thunderstorm. Even our own trusted L.L. Bean is guilty, sending out catalogs to our mailbox the very first day of December with headlines screaming on the cover: “There’s still time.”

No wonder we’re tossing and turning, ricocheting off one Filene’s flier, then landing on another from Penney’s. A recent New Yorker cartoon expressed my own chagrin by depicting a department store banner advertising a “Christmas sale.” Not pre-Christmas, not post-holiday. Nope, now, suddenly it’s Christmas and everything’s on sale. Did I somehow oversleep?

Procrastination is not to blame for my being behind the eight ball. In plenty of time, I thumbed through countless catalogs, scanned Web sites and browsed the stores. I pored over wish lists, jotted down sizes, colors and alternates. And still came up empty.

That’s it precisely. I was empty. Empty of any Christmas spirit while swirling in this storm of commercialism gone rampant. It started before Thanksgiving was even over, before the turkey leftovers became soup. Icicle lights were strung across porch eaves everywhere you looked, and we were hurled into the holiday shopping season way too soon. What spirit I had was burning at the level of a nightlight when what I expected of myself were floods and spotlights, if not the northern lights themselves.

To be sure, I was one grumpy puss with a head cold.

Then, pixie dust was sprinkled around like a dusting of snow. All it took was the lighting of the community tree down by the firehouse and the traditional parade with high school bands, business floats and hundreds of children lining the city’s sidewalks. All it took was noticing the twinkling lights of a gazebo in the village up the road, or attending a holiday craft fair put on by church ladies. All it took was working with old friends on a benefit ball.

All it took was the spirit of others – those unselfish, dedicated folks out there who always seem to be working for the good of us all – to rub off on me like pollen from summertime lilies. All it took was to concentrate not on commercialism but on community.