Christmas:
A single word that hits everyone differently. It can
bring joy or instill terror. It can evoke expectations or disappointment. It
can make us feel loved or lonely. But no matter what, for many of us, the word
Christmas does something.
When I was a kid, I loved Christmas. That was a long time
ago, in the fifties. We didn’t get a lot of presents and they weren’t expensive
like they are now. Until 1958, we didn’t have a television, so the evenings
weren’t plagued with holiday-you-gotta-buy-this
commercials, though I’m sure advertisers still found many creative ways to hawk
their wares*.
I’m not saying Christmas was nobler then, but as a
child, it was all about fun. I just didn't know any better. The adults took care of the shopping, planning,
cooking, and entertaining while I greedily inhaled their endeavors like
cinnamon-scented air. Maybe I hung a few
ornaments on the tree or set the table, but aside from that, it was all
sparkles and Disney (old Disney, that is.)
My grandmother was alive when I was a kid; in fact, my
family lived in her house, an ancestral Portland home built by her father at
the turn of the previous century. It had a fireplace, but we never hung
stockings. My grandmother thought stockings were in poor taste though I don't know why. We did have an
ancient brass Scandinavian Christmas Angel Chime, the kind where the angels
that looked oddly like cupids floated above candles, pure Christmas magic. The
chime passed the grandmother test because it was old.
I wish I remembered more about those early Christmases,
but I don’t. As I said, it was a long time ago. But I know nothing has come
close to them since: not the White Christmas; not the Elizabethan Christmas; not Baby’s First Christmas; not Christmas in the Country; and certainly not the
year I got drunk and missed Christmas altogether. The commercialism dampens my
enthusiasm, but I try to balance it with what
really matters.
Whether one is Christian or not, the sentiment is the
same. Christmas is about caring, sharing, and giving. My grandmother, who could
wrap a present without using tape because she had gone through two World Wars the
Great Depression, put it in perspective when she told me that the greatest gift, the only one she asked for each year, was love.
For the meaning of the phrase Hawk Your Wares, check out my previous blogpost.
Check out
more blogs by Mollie Hunt, Cat Writer at:
Happy Holidays!
