The spirit of Christmas

When I was growing up in the small town of Atkins, Arkansas, the one holiday I looked forward to more than all the others combined was Christmas.

The idea of Santa Claus and his flying reindeer traversing the whole world in one night to bring presents to deserving boys and girls was just magical. The routine of sitting out cookies and milk for Santa on Christmas Eve was followed religiously every year because we wanted him well-nourished on his annual excursion so that no boy or girl would be left out. And the very idea that Santa knew who had been naughty or nice told us we couldn’t fool Santa into giving us a shiny new present instead of a bag of coal. Those were wonderful times indeed because nothing surpasses the dreams and visions of young children who still believe that anything is possible.

I finally figured out by the time I was seven or eight that there wasn’t a jolly fat man slaving away at the North Pole 364 days a year so he could fly around the world delivering presents on the 365th day and that the real Santa Claus were my parents and relatives.

But I also remember that not affecting what I saw as the magic of Christmas. It was a special time when people were nicer and friendlier to other people than any other time of the year. When people gave of themselves to those in need instead of hording everything for themselves. It was a time of laughter and camaraderie and the frowns I saw on people during the rest of the year were mystically wiped away for a couple of weeks in December.

I lived in a big two-story house just off downtown Atkins in an extended family. I lived with my mom, dad, grandmother, great-grandmother, aunt and uncle along with the occasional traveling salesmen who rented rooms from us and stayed upstairs. I would always count the presents under the tree two days before Christmas and if someone had fewer presents than someone else, I would point that out to my mom and dad. I guess I’ve always had a sense of fairness and equity to me because I didn’t want anyone to feel neglected, left out or unloved on Christmas Day.

As I matured into adulthood, got married and had children of my own, the Christmas story changed dramatically from receiving gifts to giving gifts. Now I had the same role that my mom and dad had when I was young and it was the responsibility of me and my wife to make sure that Christmas was just as special to our boys as it had been for us. You would have to ask them if we succeeded but I think we did.

We always bought an eight foot tall Christmas tree and would spend a whole day drinking egg nog and decorating it. When it was finally finished, we would turn off all the lights in the house, throw the switch that would light the bulbs on the tree and Linda and I were immediately transported back to the days of childhood again when confronted with the beauty we had created. We would all clap accompanied by exclamations of approval and then sit on the couch in front of the tree together with our arms around each other with the house dark except for the lights of the tree, fully enjoying the beauty and meaning of the moment and feeling closer together with each other than any other time of the year. In addition to the inside of the house, we strung all-white strings of light outside on the eve of the house and the bushes surrounding it and we always believed we had the most beautiful house, inside and out, of anyone in town.

But one by one, our boys graduated, became adults and created lives of their own as Linda and I had done years earlier and the spirit of Christmas changed again. While they were single, we all reunited at our house for Christmas but as they got married and started their own Christmas traditions, there was no one left but Linda and me. Neither of us has put up lights or a tree since Brandon died sixteen years ago and there will be no family reunion this year. Will and Erica have their own plans and since I’m driving down to help Michael in his move to the University of Oklahoma in January, I won’t be going home for Christmas either.

So what was once the most glorious day of our lives has diminished into just another day, compartmentalized by solitude and remembrances rather than joy and celebration but that’s okay too. Nothing in the world stays the same, no matter how much we wish it did. People change, society and culture change and we move on. I will enjoy this Christmas just like I’ve enjoyed Christmas’ past, just not in the same way.

Merry Christmas everybody!