If I see another Christmas cookie recipe, I think I will — not make it. By this time in my life, I feel as if I have seen every Christmas cookie recipe that ever was.

It’s not true, of course, but that’s how I feel. I still like my old faithful ones the best, which gives me a good excuse not to make any of the new ones which are just as good.

So I have nothing new to say about Christmas cookies.

I have nothing new to say about Christmas presents either, except that you might consider not making them on your sewing machine.

Marilyn Adams made some darling things on hers, but inadvertently got her finger under the needle, which then proceeded to punch through her fingernail and sew her to her machine. Even worse, she instinctively pulled her finger away — not a wise move.

She had to have five stitches, but fortunately not by the machine. Another lucky thing: Her gift recipients will never notice, because red is your major Christmas color, right? (Note to Marilyn’s family: I’m kidding, I’m KIDDING.)

As you can tell, I’m reaching for something to say about Christmas, which I’ve written columns about for some 29 years, and have nothing new to talk about. Nevertheless, it’s on the docket and, you would be upset if I wrote about,, say, the Fourth of July today. So my solution is to plagiarize. (Some of what appears next is based on a recent Washington Post review by Jonathan Yardley of a book, “The Man Who Invented Christmas,” by Les Standiford.)

Whether we’re taking the blame or the credit, Americans tend to think modern Christmas celebrations owe everything to Clement Moore’s famous poem,” ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.” We’d be wrong.

Charles Dickens had a big hand in the growth of the Christmas spirit with “A Christmas Carol,” which was published 21 years after the poem. You could say Moore threw the ball and Dickens caught it and ran it in for a touchdown. (Forgive me, but it IS football season.)

Of course, historically, Christmas was a fairly big thing in medieval Europe, especially England, and sometimes more raunchy than anything one has seen in the United States, until recently. But in later centuries, it became a tamer time, both in the Old World and the New.

Christmas cards were not part of one’s ordinary experience in 1843, and there were no Christmas trees, or Santas, no gift-giving orgies or nativity scenes, no midnight services, and almost no decorations. In some places “celebrating Christmas smacked vaguely of paganism, and were there Puritans still around, acknowledging the holiday might have landed one in the stocks.”

Dickens had always loved Christmas but in general it was a “minor blip on the calendar.” And here’s another thought: How in the world did an event that happened in a desert land become so identified with cold and snow? Here’s how:

Despite his book title, the author says that no one can claim credit for Christmas celebration, “except, perhaps, the figure that the day is named for.”

But then he goes on to make a very good case that Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” gave everyone, Christian or not, good reasons to celebrate the concepts embodied in the holiday and the whole idea of family, humanity, and decency.

It’s an interesting story. Dickens himself, appeared to be at the end of a promising career. He had written five bestsellers, followed by three bombs, and, although he was only 31 years old, he supported a big family, and feared his best days were over. He was frantic to write another best seller, but aside from this idea that took over his mind as he desperately walked the English streets, he could think of nothing. As time went on, this idea took shape, and, said a friend later, “with a strange mastery, it seized him.” And that is how Scrooge, Tiny Tim, Bob Cratchit, and all the others jump-started Christmas.

Dickens produced the story in six weeks, writing in what seemed to be a fever. His publishers had no interest in this pipsqueak idea so he was forced to pay them to publish it. He oversaw the book’s design, illustrations, and advertising.

It was immediately wildly successful, although because of his publishers’ dirty tricks, not immediately profitable. We loved it in the U.S. too, despite the fact that it first made its appearance here in a bogus edition.

Scores of stage productions both in American and England increased his fame, although not his pocketbook, since most of them were unauthorized. (An excellent one — authorized — closed here at the Cumberland Community Theater, Dec. 14.) In the 20th century, at least 25 film adaptations have been made, legally in most cases, and more than 225 professional adaptations have been made, not counting amateur presentations. It seems to have done the trick for Dickens and his ongoing fame — afterward he produced some of his most famous books.

Among my fondest family memories is a production a church youth group put on in Pittsburgh in the early 1970s. I was the youth group leader at that time, and didn’t know what I was going to be chewing when I bit it off. Still, it was a wonderful experience.

Now perhaps I am frightfully prejudiced about the whole matter — all three of our kids, aged about 11, 13, and 15, played major roles (Mrs. Cratchit, Bob Cratchit, and the Spirit of Christmas Future) — but no comments here about favoritism, please. For one thing, there weren’t all that many kids in the youth group. Besides, they all did a great job and so did the ones who weren’t our kids.

Dickens (and Moore) revitalized Christmas in their time, and it would be nice if someone could do the same nowadays. We need to get the holiday out of business, and back into the spirit again. (That rules out sewing machine mishaps too.)

Meanwhile, God bless us every one. Or, if you prefer, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night.

Maude McDaniel is a Cumberland freelance writer. Her column appears on alternate Sundays in the Times-News.