TO LOTS OF people in this country, the period between 25 December and 1 January is truly the best time of the year.

The Christmas rush is over; the presents have been opened and the turkey and ham devoured, though there might be a few sandwiches still on the go; most of us are relaxing and relishing the company of family and friends, some of whom have travelled long distances for the occasion.

Movies are a big feature for many of us. Home Alone (1 and 2), Die Hard (1 and 2), The Holiday, A Christmas Story (an American classic that oddly did not catch on here), Love Actually and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation are favourites in this vicinity. Pints in the local, and at the holy ground of Wicklow Golf Club, are being consumed. Great craic is being had by all.

I am even trying, albeit unsuccessfully, not to think about politics.

This year, we have forsaken the chaos of Dublin Airport and the six hour flight to Boston to see my relatives and my close pals, who are actually family. I have mixed feelings, but my wife and Larry Óg are delighted. We have been joined by our older son, Seán, who is back home in Wicklow from Barcelona, where he now lives and works.

Happily, my brother, sister-in-law and nephew have made the trip from Boston and are revelling in a post-Christmas vacation in Ireland. After nearly a quarter century in a place my grandmother would have been baffled I chose to relocate to, I have to admit that Ireland does Christmas infinitely better than the United States does.

Larry Donnelly's son Larry Jr, age 13, at the Wicklow Golf Club Christmas Party. Who's that he's with?

There is an undeniable buzz in the air from around the second week of December onward. Just about everyone is a good form. At the moment, plenty of us aren’t exactly sure what day it is, never mind what date. We don’t want it to end. Having to face jobs, school, university, etc. again doesn’t bear contemplating.

Christmas in the US pales by comparison

There, unless you are lucky, the “break” typically consists of a half day on the 24th, the holiday itself, and possibly the 26th in the event that you have a generous employer. There is hardly a chance to catch your breath, much less lose yourself in food, drink, film, sport, or whatever floats your boat with your loved ones.

I recall one St Stephen’s Day morning – I barely knew that it was St Stephen’s Day in 2000 – as a rookie lawyer having to defend a deposition in Boston with an almighty hangover and thinking to myself that there had to be more to life than this. It was miserable. And in hindsight, it is above all else a firm, societal view that life is for living, not for toiling every hour God gives, that separates my ancestral and adopted home from the land of my birth.

Annually at this juncture, that’s why my mind dwells on the unusual path I have taken. I have no doubt that many of my college and law school classmates cannot fathom why I walked away from the career I had worked and studied so hard for, not to mention the substantial financial rewards. Some probably drew negative inferences. As my late father, who was broadly supportive of my heading off to the “old country,” once said ruefully, “you’re abandoning what you busted your ass to achieve… and we paid big money for!”

Yet invariably, the wrestling match with my conscience on this front is short and overwhelmed by gratitude. I am incredibly grateful to Ireland and for all the opportunities it has afforded me in academia and in the media. Non-Ivy League law school graduates like me are a relatively rare species in the American professoriate; Boston Irish lawyers from political families like me are a dime a dozen in the US. Neither of these has proven an obstacle.

And that’s before I reflect on my personal life. I can confidently say that I would not have met a woman as wonderful as my wife if I had stayed in Massachusetts. That I was able to adopt her son and then, against the odds, to have another boy has been a blessing beyond measure.

Regrettably, the unstoppable march of cultural imperialism has brought Black Friday, not Thanksgiving, to these shores, so Christmas is when I offer thanks.

I have been extremely lucky. And I believe that very many reading this piece have been lucky. At the dawn of a new year, I think it’s important that we remember that. Equally, it is incumbent upon us to be mindful that not everyone has had the same good fortune.

They struggle for all sorts of reasons. I am not one for resolutions. Nonetheless, I am going to try to be more cognisant of this sad fact in 2026 and to act accordingly – not solely in terms of my political leanings, but also in my daily interactions.

Enjoy what’s left of this special time and I hope the real world doesn’t bite too badly on your return to it.

Larry Donnelly is a Boston attorney, a Law Lecturer at the University of Galway and a political columnist with The Journal.