I suppose like many of us, I have a deep yearning for the old-fashioned Christmas of long ago. I want the yule log burning merrily while the family sits around the fire. I want the carol singers at the front door. Crackers. Mince pies. The holly and the ivy. God rest ye merry gentlemen. I've tried to recreate it from time to time, but it never quite works. Maybe that is because we have so much year round these days that it's hard to make magic at the holidays. When I was growing up Christmas at my grandmother's house was simple in the extreme. My own kids and grandkids would probably find it boring. 
One
year we took a Christmas market cruise down the Danube, going around the
markets in each small town. It was quite magical with the booths and the lights
and the smell of sausage and cinnamon and hand carved toys. I loved it. John
complained “How many more carved angels do you need to see?”
We would drive to my
grandmother’s house on Christmas Eve, bringing with us the Christmas tree
(trees were smaller in those days). We’d decorate it while my grandmother
served hot punch and mince pies. We’d string paper chains around the house. After supper we children would be put to bed,
but of course we stayed awake, hoping for a glimpse of Father Christmas. At midnight the grown-ups went to midnight
mass at the local church. I couldn’t wait to be old enough to join them. It was
magic sitting in the old church, listening to the choir singing those wonderful
hymns and then walking home through the frosty night, our breath coming out
like dragon-fire. At home we were
greeted with more hot mince pies and sausage rolls.
Our
presents appeared in pillow cases at the foot of our beds. We opened them at
first light, sitting up in bed surrounded by wrapping paper. I suspect we ate
the sugar mice right then. The day
itself was simple—highlighted by the turkey at lunch. Snooze afterward then the
magnificent Christmas cake, frosted to look like a snow scene with little
porcelain figures on it. And small presents had miraculously appeared on the
tree and were handed out after tea. We children were required to put on some
kind of entertainment—a pantomime or charades. Then a cold turkey supper and
bed.
I suppose it was so special because it was the only time in the year we ate turkey, or dates or saw tangerines in the stores. We rarely had presents apart from birthday and Christmas. Today when everything is available all the time and we have so much more, it’s hard to create the thrill of treats. We try hard—that’s why stores start blaring Christmas music at us in October. We up the ante by requiring bigger and better presents—remember the ad to “put a Lexus under the tree?” Right. We want that feeling of a special occasion but we don’t know where to find it.
I suppose it was so special because it was the only time in the year we ate turkey, or dates or saw tangerines in the stores. We rarely had presents apart from birthday and Christmas. Today when everything is available all the time and we have so much more, it’s hard to create the thrill of treats. We try hard—that’s why stores start blaring Christmas music at us in October. We up the ante by requiring bigger and better presents—remember the ad to “put a Lexus under the tree?” Right. We want that feeling of a special occasion but we don’t know where to find it.
I’ve
gone looking for it myself on several occasions—one year we rented a cabin in
the snow with friends. We arrived to a picture perfect Christmas card scene. We
awoke next morning to rain. It rained non-stop all week. No snow, no skiing,
just bored children imprisoned in a cabin with no TV.
One
year we took a Christmas market cruise down the Danube, going around the
markets in each small town. It was quite magical with the booths and the lights
and the smell of sausage and cinnamon and hand carved toys. I loved it. John
complained “How many more carved angels do you need to see?”
And one year we decided to do
away with commercialism and make handmade gifts. I made dolls and quilts and others made
candles and pillows and scarves. When we exchanged gifts on Christmas morning
we tried to be thrilled and excited, realizing the supreme effort each one of
us had made. But it’s really hard to get excited about a fleece pillow or a
painted bottle. I was the first to crack. “Okay,” I said. “I did go to the store
and bought these little extras.”
“So
did I,” one daughter said. “I did too,” said another. And laughing we handed
out real, store-bought gifts. I guess we’re not Little house on the Prairie
after all.
So
how about you? Do you still have nostalgia for long-ago holidays? Do you seek
to recreate them?
And if I'm allowed a sliver of BSP for once, may I point out that the paperback of Twelve Clues is at a special price right now and makes a terrific stocking stuffer! You can find it at your favorite indie store, or at Barnes and Noble or online at Barnes and Noble or Amazon
But wait==there's more. I'll give away a copy of the book to the best comment of the day!
And if I'm allowed a sliver of BSP for once, may I point out that the paperback of Twelve Clues is at a special price right now and makes a terrific stocking stuffer! You can find it at your favorite indie store, or at Barnes and Noble or online at Barnes and Noble or Amazon
But wait==there's more. I'll give away a copy of the book to the best comment of the day!
