Christmas seemed to be much more festive and elaborate when I was younger. There were trips to Pennsylvania to visit my grandparents and visits to my aunt, uncle and cousins in my hometown. You went to church on the Sunday before Christmas and received a fancy little box of candy, which had a string handle. It was all hard candy that I didn't like, but the box was delightful! And I always received a Lifesavers "book" filled with rolls of those round little gems of candy from my father's brother. I never really liked that candy either, but the little "book" was intriguing. That uncle had a silver tree that had a rotating colored light under it that made the tree change colors. That seemed so exotic!
When I was young, there were certain rituals that had to be followed when decorating for Christmas.. Things went in certain locations. The tree always stood in the corner by the two windows, beside the fake fireplace. There were ornaments I made in Girl Scouts and the paper chain I cut and colored for the tree that lasted for many years. Then there was the angel, which I just sold on eBay because she was spun glass, which fell out a lot. I decided to sell it or my children would throw it away when I died. The tinsel on the tree had to be put on strand by strand and never thrown on. Don't you dare throw that strand up to the top of the tree! As a Brownie, we would go caroling with our troop at night after it snowed. To this day, I remember how sparkly everything was outside, how magical it felt! I miss my Brownie troop leader and her daughter so much at this time of year and those were the only times I ever went out caroling. Perhaps next year, with electronic networking, I should try to organize a Caroling Mob.
There were the trips to visit the Talking ChristmasTree in the now-defunct outside shopping area and we always visited the Santa in the little hut in our town square. It seemed that it was always snowing and cold back then. My parents took my brother and I all the way into Cleveland one year to look at a fancy Christmas tree in some fancy store, perhaps Sterling Linder or Macy's. It took us all day to get there because there were no highways at that time. I took one look at the tree and asked, "Is that all there is?" I believe I may have been smacked by my mother for that particular remark.
While in Cleveland, we'd visit Mr. Jingaling in Halle's and get some paper keys. Someone posted a picture of him on my hometown's facebook page. He doesn't look nearly as festive now as I remember him. He's now just a memory, along with Captain Penny, Mr. Greenjeans, and Captain Kangaroo. I still remember at least some of the words of the song they always sang on tv about him,
"Mr. Jingaling, how you dingaling, keeper of the keys. On Halle's seventh floor, we'll be looking for you to turn the keys."
Christmas began to lose its magic in my teenage years. I don't remember much about Christmas at all during that time. Perhaps because my life revolved more around my friends and boyfriends than my family. I remember attending church, singing Christmas songs and cantatas in the choir. I loved when the church lights were dimmed and candles were lit. I was in the A Capella choir in my high school so we began practicing songs for the holiday in September. I can still sing my soprano parts to those particular songs and I miss participating in a choir at this time of year. Hallelujah Chorus!
When I had my girls, Christmas became very stressful. I tried to make the holiday perfect for them and the rest of my family. By then, I had become the "keeper of the holidays" so the pressure was on to search for the perfect presents and cook the traditional dishes of our family. We had to have the same dishes every year. I tried to substitute new ones, just to pester everyone, but those holiday menus are sacred!
Things went downhill as my girls grew up and moved on with their own families and traditions. My mother is gone now. I used to sit by her because she'd make comments and remarks that would spice up the day. She'd say,"Hot Damn!" when she was excited about something and at the end of the day, she'd exclaim, "Well, the big day's shot in the ass!" On one of her last Christmases, I found some Hot Damn cinnamon schnapp's for her but she was too sick to enjoy it. We offered a shot of that drink to friends at the funeral home when she died. We toasted and said, " Hot Dam" and told her that her big day was "shot in the ass." Not very prim and proper, but neither was my mother. At this time of year, I miss her humor and enthusiasm for the holiday music and lights and her zest for life.
Now, I truly am the "sandwich" generation. I am torn between being with my daughters and their families on holidays, yet I feel obligated to entertain our folks for what might be their last Christmas, although I have been saying that for the past ten years. I want no guilt when they are gone. No regrets. So I was thrilled when my oldest daughter made a surprise visit to us on Christmas this year. This was our off-year. They were supposed to be visiting their husband's families so it was going to be a long, uneventful day here. But my granddaughter's joy of the holiday brought smiles and noise back into this house. It made the day very special for the folks. I am grateful to my daughter for sharing their day with us.
So, Christmas is gone for another year. No regrets. New memories. A new year is beginning!
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