“Just because something is traditional is no reason to do it, of course.”
― Lemony Snicket
I grew up handicapped by a severe lack of ethnicity. No one in my family ever gathered to make pierogis, wore a crown of candles on St Lucia's Day, or braided a challah for Friday night. Our heritage came from various corners of the UK, but so long ago that any vestige of tradition had long ago fallen away. Oh sure, on Sundays once in a while we had kippers or broiled kidneys, but this was more likely due to my parents' love of the exotic rather than anything from our heritage.
We did have a few recurring customs in our Christmases, though. I recall my parents declaring the biggest log from the small pile of wood they bought for occasional fires to be the Yule log. We would decorate it with perhaps some ribbon and a few branches of the holly my grandfather mailed every year from his giant tree in Oklahoma. It would burn through Christmas morning as my sister and I dug into our stockings, not those fancy store-bought ones, but knee socks that had been pulled from our bureau drawer. These had the usual inexpensive toys, and were padded out with tangerines and unshelled walnuts. Like a boa after a heavy lunch, the sock would always encompass the silhouette of a box holding a golden foil Droste orange, a glorious solid globe of chocolate that would break apart into sections when whacked on a table.
We were like many other families on Christmas morning, spending half of the day in our pajamas, getting even more hyped up on too much candy and sorting through our booty.
Now, so many years later, my childhood memories of Christmas have distilled down to fragments.
- Being woken up one year for the Christmas Eve service and sleepily putting on the new blouse and matching skirt of polished cotton that had all kinds of candy printed on it. We were always allowed to open one gift on Christmas Eve and my mother must have made sure that was the one I opened. I remember admiring how it made a perfect circle when I sat on my bedroom floor.
- Hopping in the driveway on my new pogo stick, wearing a really hideous striped barber-shop-quartet sort of jacket that was also a gift and I just loved.
- And in one truly wonderful year, my sister and I received a printed cloth, that when placed over a card table, created a playhouse where we could inhabit our often-visited imaginary world of Toytown.
Now my grown-up Christmases are filled with pajama'd grandchildren, an occasional menorah, and an annual omelet with smoked salmon and bagels on the side. When I sit in my living room, mug of tea in hand and an ocean of wrapping paper at my feet, I realize that the best traditions are the ones that we create ourselves.
You are totally right. The Christmases I remember are probably either figments of my imagination or many of them rolled into one sentimental occasion. Christmas is what you make of it, new every year. Perhaps that’s why Christmas without children can be a lovely time but there’s precious little of the wonder of the season in it.ReplyDelete
Yes, I've tried both kinds of Christmas, and they're fine in their own right, but the addition of children does make a difference. Do I sense a new source of revenue? "Rent a child?"ReplyDelete
I am sorry I will never know what my grandchildren will reminisce about at their best Christmas ever.ReplyDelete
Yes, Joanne, and it will probably be the things we least expect.ReplyDelete
You have such happy memories of Christmas. I can barely remember how I felt at Christmas. There was a war on so our Christmas days were spent in an air raid shelter. Thank goodness children now have homes to celebrate in.ReplyDelete
My goodness, Valerie. What stories you must have! Not all Christmas stories need to be warm, fuzzy ones.ReplyDelete
Sometimes I think it is the people I remember the most...perhaps the tradition connected with the people. Merry Christmas:)ReplyDelete
What I remember, are the people, and how special it was if we were able to spend Christmas with relatives. My relatives were all scattered in different states, so it was always such a treat to get together. As far as gifts, I remember the Christmas I received my last doll...I realized that it would be my last, so it was the most special.ReplyDelete
As far as my grandchildren, they receive so much more than I could have dreamed of, but I'd bet money, that they will remember the time spent with family. I don't think gifts means as much, when you have everything, already. A Blessed Christmas to you, Marty.
You write beautifully. We did not have fancy stockings either. We each hung one of daddy's socks. Each sock had an orange, an apple, a tangerine, nuts, and candy on Christmas morning. The fruit Santa left was always better than what was in the fruit bowl. :)ReplyDelete