The wide-eyed
wonder time of the year is upon us.
People are out bustling around, coming out of stores with shopping bags
hanging from their arms. Walking around with steaming cups of hot chocolate or coffee wrapped in mittened hands. Smiles abound,
Christmas tree stands everywhere, Christmas music playing everywhere, even from
my laptop.
Yes, Virginia,
there is a Santa Claus and I can feel the spirit of the season—even embrace
it. As we get closer to December 25th,
memories are flooding into my mind of Christmases past.
I remember as a
little girl money was very tight—some years worse than others. I remember several Christmas eves my mother
would send my brother up to get a free Christmas tree that the vendors no
longer knew what to do with. What a
great time we had decorating those Christmas tree stragglers—some years we’d
have a Charlie Brown tree, sometimes something better—whatever was left. I remember my mother coming home some years
with a brown paper bag filled with smokey chestnuts purchased from the corner
vendor. So I really understand the song
Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire. I
remember being so excited that I wasn’t able to sleep. The remedy, a little brandy in some egg
nog. My brother, sister and I standing
in line to get our little taste treat of the season. Everyone knew it would not make us go to
sleep—we were just too excited,but boy did it taste good and warm our body. I remember hearing my mother, brother-in-law
and older sister bringing the toys in to put under the Christmas tree. They’d had a little of that brandy in egg nog
too, so they’d be laughing and shushing each other. As soon as they’d left, and my mother finally
put her head on her pillow, we’d call out “Has Santa Claus been here yet Mama,
can we get up?” “He hasn’t been here
yet, children—I’ll wake you when he has” she’d call back, desperate for a few
hours sleep. Finally after a few more
attempts, she’d let us get up—still dark out I can still hear our squeals over
a bike, a new dress, a doll—whatever we could afford that year. Oh, precious memories.
I remember trying
to duplicate the wonder of my childhood Christmases for my children. I remember the wonder in their eyes, the
excited energy that emanated from their bodies, the joy when they got exactly
the video game, or Lego set they’d wanted.
I remember how happy they were when I promised that Santa would be able
to find us at Grandma’s house in New York and knew not to bring the gifts to
California . I remember a day care
provider's tradition of having a birthday cake for Jesus so that the children
would remember just who’s birthday we were celebrating. Oh, precious memories.
I remember when
Lateef had a family of his own, that he would dress up like Santa Claus. I remember the call I got when Jade was 3
½. An excited little voice on the phone
said “Grandma, guess what? The black
Santa Claus visited me and brought gifts.
Grandma, I wish Daddy could have been here to see.” I said, “Wow, Jade, that’s great..You’ll just
have to tell Daddy about it.” I remember
that Rashida always wanted stocking stuffers, even well after we no longer
piled the Christmas tree up with gifts, even today…. I remember that Ted would hold out shopping
until Christmas Eve, when he’d finally break down and go Christmas shopping for
a last minute gift—I remember that Rashida always had to tell him what I’d like
even though I’d been dropping hints for at least 2 months. Oh, precious memories.
This Christmas
season is different. My mother, Ted and
Lateef are not here, but I have my wonderful memories and they are heart
warming—almost like they’re really here with me. This Christmas we're building new traditions and keeping
some of the old. Rashida and I will go
to visit the Christmas windows on Fifth Avenue on Christmas day. That’s new.
I will cook an abbreviated Christmas dinner. That’s old. We
will see Alvin Ailey. That’s old. We will light candles for Ted, Lateef and my
mother. That’s new. We will give a
little more to Salvation Army and the homeless.
That’s new. We will see, really see some of the sickness and sadness in
the world and look for ways to help.
That is enhanced…
What will the
holidays mean to you? To me, they
signify hope, joy and love and yes, Gerri, there is a Santa Claus—he is alive
in all of us--no matter what.
Peace, love and the blessing of the holiday season to you all--today and every day.
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