'Tis the Season

Christmas is probably one of my favorite holidays and has been since I was a little kid. I guess most kids that celebrate Christmas enjoy it. The big dinner, all the cookies and candies, plus the gifts. But for me, it wasn't just about that. It was quite a magical time, as clichéd as that seems now. Anything was possible. And it was the one time each year where I felt important, loved and connected with my family.

Most Christmases started out the same. My parents would ask me what I wanted for Christmas. "An Easy Bake Oven," was my usual response. I really wanted Santa to bring me one, because I knew they were a little bit more than my family could afford, but I really wanted one. Mainly so I could make treats for people.

After the usual question, came getting the tree. At our house, we always had a fresh tree. Dad would go out and find it. I thought he was going out into the forest to track down the perfect one and I wasn't actually disappointed when I found out that he was really just going to one of the little tree sellers that are ubiquitous during this time of year. We would dig out the ornaments from storage and I would take time to pull out all of my favorites and make sure that we had hangers for them. There were various ones that I made during school: a pine cone swirled in glitter to make it look like a little tree, various ones made of inedible dough in various shapes and painted or colored, school pictures. There were also the old ones that my mom still had from when she was a little girl. Every year there were fewer of those, as they were often made of glass and I wasn't as dainty as I should have been with them. We would also get a new ornament each year and usually get a few generic colored ones just to round out the tree. Steven or Mom would get the lights on the tree and then it was my job to decorate as high as I could, with my Mom and brother getting the top areas. And then we would tinsel it. And to finish it off, a bit of water and some ammonia to keep the cats way from the tree and the skirt to cover the stand up.

Buying presents came next and happened around the twentieth. Either my parents or grandparents would give me some money, somewhere between twenty and forty dollar to Christmas is probably one of my favorite holidays and has been since I was a little kid. I guess most kids that celebrate Christmas enjoy it. The big dinner, all the cookies and candies, plus the gifts. But for me, it wasn't just about that. It was quite a magical time, as clichéd as that seems now. Anything was possible. And it was the one time each year where I felt important, loved and connected with my family.

Most Christmases started out the same. My parents would ask me what I wanted for Christmas. "An Easy Bake Oven," was my usual response. I really wanted Santa to bring me one, because I knew they were a little bit more than my family could afford, but I really wanted one. Mainly so I could make treats for people.

After the usual question, came getting the tree. At our house, we always had a fresh tree. Dad would go out and find it. I thought he was going out into the forest to track down the perfect one and I wasn't actually disappointed when I found out that he was really just going to one of the little tree sellers that are ubiquitous during this time of year. We would dig out the ornaments from storage and I would take time to pull out all of my favorites and make sure that we had hangers for them. There were various ones that I made during school: a pine cone swirled in glitter to make it look like a little tree, various ones made of inedible dough in various shapes and painted or colored, school pictures. There were also the old ones that my mom still had from when she was a little girl. Every year there were fewer of those, as they were often made of glass and I wasn't as dainty as I should have been with them. We would also get a new ornament each year and usually get a few generic colored ones just to round out the tree. Steven or Mom would get the lights on the tree and then it was my job to decorate as high as I could, with my Mom and brother getting the top areas. And then we would tinsel it. And to finish it off, a bit of water and some ammonia to keep the cats way from the tree and the skirt to cover the stand up.

Buying presents came next and happened around the twentieth. Either my parents or grandparents would give me some money, somewhere between twenty and forty dollar to get five gifts. When I was very small, I would go with my Mom and brother to get gifts. I'd buy Steven's gift while I was with Mom and then he and I would dash off to find something for her. Books were almost always the perfect things to get both of them. Mom would either get a Shannara book (if there was a new one out), one by Danielle Steele, or some trashy romance novel (I had no idea what was in them, but I would find ones that looked like the ones she usually read). Steven would get a horror novel or some book he had pointed out a week or two before. Dad was easy to shop for, usually soap on a rope and some socks. Grandma and Grandpa were tough. I never really knew what to get them and I would tirelessly try to find the right thing. Eventually, my Mom would suggest something like slippers or a set of different flavored jams and I'd agree that would be good.
As I got older, Christmas shopping became the one time every year where I was free to wander off alone in the store. I insisted on it, because I didn't want to spoil the surprise of the gift. Although I love the idea of presents being a surprise, I still struggle with keeping them that way. Steven and I started out own tradition of telling each other what we got for the other and then seeing who could act the most surprised. It couldn't be over the top campy surprised either. We had to be believable because we were afraid that Mom and Dad would figure it out and make us stop doing it.

Once all of the presents were wrapped we put the ones for each other under our wonderful tree and keep the ones for Grandma and Grandpa separate. It was usually a good idea. The cats seemed to take out their dissatisfaction with the ammonia and not being able to play with the tree out on the gifts. If they got a big enough piece off of one of mine, I would try to figure out what it was. My parents got wise to this and started doing the Russian doll trick with the presents for both Steven and I.

On Christmas Eve, we would go up to Unionville, where my grandparents lived with our gifts in the trunk and Steven and I pressed together in the back seat of the family Chevy Citation. One year, as we drove up and I stared out the window, I swore I saw a sleigh and some stuff in it. By the time I tried to get Steven's attention, it was a blur behind us and no one believed me that I saw it. I still don't know what it was, because it was gone when we went back to town. Every time I drive up that road, even as an adult, I try to figure out where it could have been, because there just doesn't seem like there would have been a place for it.
 I loved the way my Grandparents decorated for Christmas. Grandma would take the Christmas Cards she received and use them to decorate their small artificial tree. Instead of lights, they had a spinning lighted color wheel that was aimed at the tree. It was just beautiful. We would have some dinner and I would tell myself I was going to try a green olive, but I never did. Once we ate our fill, it was time to pass out the Christmas presents. We started the tradition of naming one family member to be Santa. This person was responsible to grab each present and hand it directly to the person who it was addressed to. The role of Santa alternated for a while, but eventually fell to me. By the time I was twelve, this was literally the best part. The thing I looked forward to the most. I loved grabbing a present and giving it to the person and watching their face light up. When I came to one for me, I would get a little awkward and open it, or I would try to just put it aside and find another one I could give to someone else.

My favorite gift that I gave to someone was after I was grown and moved out of the house. By then, Grandma had passed and my parents were living with Grandpa up in Unionville. Growing up, my mother had very few picture of me from when I was a baby. My Father kept them after the divorce and wouldn't part with them. Once he and I started speaking with one another in my adulthood, I asked him for the pictures or at least the negatives or something. I really didn't know what I looked like as a baby. And he was nice enough to send them to me. I had a set of them developed and got nice wooden frames for them. I wrapped them and brought them up on my yearly trip to Unionville. When I gave them to her, I just stopped and watched as she ripped the paper off. One tear and she saw the face and she started crying and shaking and needed a moment to get through the rest of it. There were four pictures that she had thought were lost. It was wonderful knowing that she had them again.

After presents, the family would get into two cars and drive to Saint Peter's Episopal Church. We would try to get there early enough to get a good seat. Midnight Mass there was always so amazing. Often included a large choir, brass and percussion, piano, organ, and there were so many lights. The carols and hymns were my favorites to sing. When I was young, I would often find a way to fall asleep during Mass, which probably worked out for the best. Little boys in suits trying to sit still when they are full of energy are not the easiest things to keep contained. As I learned how to settle down, I was able to stay up through the whole service and loved every minute of it.

Whether I started my slumber at church or not, sleep usually came pretty easy for me. But Christmas morning was even cooler than Saturday mornings and I would be the first one up and waiting for everyone else. Once I was in my pre-teens that meant I was responsible for making the coffee for everyone. I learned not to wake my family before they are good and ready to wake up. Think waking up a den of bears early from hibernation. Coffee only saves you a little bit. So usually I would just sit and watch TV (Christmas parade of course). Once everyone was up, we would pass out gifts. For some reason, it took me longer to get my parents to do the Santa thing at our house. Once I was able to get them to do it, I was designated permanent Santa, which was fine by me.

Christmas also marked the second holiday each year that was celebrated with Turkey dinner. Mom would start cooking usually while we started passing out gifts. It was an all-day process to make the Turkey, stuffing, jello salad, mashed potatoes and all the rest of it. Just like Thanksgiving, we would eat our fill and spend the early evening in a food coma. If anyone got a new board game, we would play that after our senses returned to us.

Since I moved to Missoula, I haven't been able to travel to Helena for Christmas. Typically, I work the day before and or the day after and making the trip in the snow is precarious at best and I am not a good driver. Instead, I have hosted a number of holiday get-togethers with my family here. These have ranged from Secret Santa or White Elephant exchanges to our annual tradition of China Buffet for Christmas dinner. I love being able to spend this holiday with the people I love and sometimes complete strangers. There have been a few instances at China Buffet where Britain and I have welcomed someone that we saw sitting by themselves to our table – just to make sure they weren't alone.

Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, I hope that this year you are able to spend the day with family. Christmas, at least to me, is not just celebrating the birth of Jesus. It is celebrating hope and light in a dark time of year. It is about family and making sure that we do what we can to take care of one another. There is so much hate and intolerance in the world and this is a time of loving. It can be a hard time of year for many people and the rate of suicides are highest this time of year. Remember that your actions have consequence and reaching out to a loved one or a stranger can be the one thing that saves their lives.

Nollaig Shona Daoibh (Happy Christmas to all).