My Childhood: Christmas

I was brought up believing in Santa Claus, reindeer, elves and all of the rest of the mythology associated with that wondrous time of year known as Christmas. I have so many happy memories of Christmas trees, snowmen, presents, decorations, candy canes and such that it fills my head with glee just to think of it.

Believe it or not, the idea of getting lots of new toys wasn't what excited me, although that was undoubtedly one of the great things about Christmas. I was thrilled by the many myths and ceremonies of that holiday, especially the story of Santa Claus and his magical elves. I loved it when my read me stories about Santa, his home at the north pole, and his magical sleigh.

A few days before Christmas, we went out to find a tree. This was a family event, and all of us packed into the car and drove to the nearby Christmas tree lot. We looked for a few minutes, and eventually found the perfect one. Dad paid for it, and we stuffed it in or on top of the car. In those days, we always had a cut tree, not one of those new-fangled artificial things.

Once we got it home and in the house, it was time to bring out the Christmas decorations and put them on the tree. First, we carefully strung the lights. Then we loaded it with all of the various decorations such as bulbs and ornaments. Finally came the part that I liked the best - putting on the tensile. For some reason, setting these shiny bits of material onto the tree branches always gave me a special thrill.

I remember a couple of times my mom, my sister and I made our own decorations from various materials. These were usually popcorn balls strung together or, if I remember correctly, candied apples and other similar things. Creating these edible ornaments took up an entire pleasurable evening just a day or two before Christmas.

Once we were finished decorating, my dad plugged in the lights (always muttering something about the danger of fire) and the tree shined and sparkled beautifully. I liked the little lights that blinked on and off the best. I always thought the larger lights were kind of boring.

Once the three was decorated, it was time to put up the lights on the outside of the house. This was an task that was performed almost entirely by my father. We kids were too small to be of much use (although we did hold things for dad) and mom had other things to do. Dad would stand on a ladder to put the lights along the top of the roof, then around the windows and the doorframe. It was the finishing touch needed to make Christmas even more special.

I remember when I was in my early teens I wanted to get my mother a special present. I somehow managed to get hold of the huge sum of $5 just a couple of days before Christmas. In those days (the early 1970s), five dollars went a long way. I remember walking up to the local five and dime store, and spending hours and hours picking out a dozen gifts that I thought were perfect. Some glass bowls, a butter dish, a plate and a few other similar things. I carefully wrapped them all and left them under the tree for mom.

A few days later, it was Christmas Eve. This was a special night, to be cherished and enjoyed by the entire family. First, mom made hot chocolate and cookies (oatmeal or chocolate chip) for everyone. While we were drinking our hot chocolate, mom and dad would talk to us children and tell us stories. There was usually some Christmas special on TV ("Rudolph the Red nose Reindeer", "Little Drummer Boy" and "Frosty The Snowman" were some of my favorites) which we always, without fail, watched.

Traditionally, we could each open one present on Christmas Eve. The rest would remain until Christmas day. This was always exciting to me. I liked to shake all of the boxes to try to figure out what was inside. After a few minutes of this, I picked something, probably the biggest box, and ripped off the wrapping paper.

That night, I never slept well. I was anxious. I wanted to open my presents and play with the new and wonderful toys. As the night was dragging on, seemingly forever, I heard bells ringing. Sleigh bells. I truly believed that Santa had landed his sleigh, and was at that moment setting out my toys. I was too afraid to peek - after all, who wants to offend Santa Claus?

I woke up well before anyone else and snuck into the living room. There were dozens of presents stuffed under the tree, much more than had been there the night before. I shook each one, and then snuck into my sister's room to wake her up. She came out into the living room, just as excited as me.

I convinced my sister she should wake up mom and dad, who appeared shortly, looking very tired. Mom, of course, had a camera in her hand. Mom loved to take pictures, something that I didn't appreciate until I was much older. I think that just about every significant (and many not-so-significant) family events are recorded and stored in a huge box somewhere in my parents house.

Belinda and I opened all of our presents, one at a time. We took turns - she opened one, then I did, then it was her turn again. We had to pause between each present as mom took our picture.

Every year there seemed to be one or two huge, special presents which could not be wrapped. One year I received a brand new bicycle, another Christmas my sister and I got a jungle gym (I am sure my dad spent the better part of the evening putting this all together). These larger gifts were often use for years and years before finally simply falling apart from so much use.

Before I knew it, all the presents were opened, all the toys had been assembled. I ran over to my friend David’s house to see what he got, and was pleased that Santa brought me much more interesting stuff.

Before too long, and much too soon, Christmas was over. Things went back to normal quickly. The tree came down a few days later, the ornaments carefully packed away for next year.

Christmas is a magical time of year, and it is far, far older than Christianity. I found the magic faded over the years, until there was nothing but bitterness and depression - then I realized that the holiday is actually a celebration of life and living. It is a time that people can celebrate unashamedly, and, for a few brief days, believe in magic, in elves and a jolly bearded fat man whose only motivation is to make people smile for a day. Once I came to that understanding, and removed all of the incredible significance that place on everything, I relaxed and now, Christmas has regained the magic. I love that time of year).