Christmas Eve Reflections
When I was younger, the night before Christmas was all about tortuous anticipation.
"When can I open a present?"
"It's past midnight. Can I open one now?"
"I don't think Santa's here yet, I want to stay up longer."
One year, I was so wound up by the promise of toys that my uncle Ralph had to go outside and fling rocks onto the rooftop to urge my hyperactive self into bed. Wasn't there an old addage: a watched santa delivers no presents? As I child I often wondered what kind of terrible self-image Santa must have had to not want anyone to look at him while he did his work.
At some point -- a point I cannot pinpoint -- we started a tradition of visiting my aunt and uncle's apartment on Christmas Eve. They would cook a marvelous dinner (most often seafood), give out their gifts that evening, sing Christmas carols, drink spiced apple cider, and generally soak in some ambiance for the season.
The first few years of this new tradition were heavenly: I got to open presents on Christmas Eve!
But while those presents were always generous, they did not match the cacophany of the following day. My family was a bit compulsive with the Christmas shopping. Coming downstairs on Christmas morning my siblings and I would find piles of gifts.. 30...40...50 for each of us, sitting in mounds sometimes taller than we were.
After a while, then, this Christmas Eve became a good distraction, something to whittle away the time as Christmas morning crept closer. I remember, as an early teenager, sipping seafood bisque one Christmas Eve like a junkie staving off the shakes that next morning's hit.
Over time, lots of time, it gradually dawned on me that Christmas Eve was a gift in and of itself -- not a way to open gifts early -- not a distraction from waiting for other gifts. To be surrounded by loved ones, holiday scents, spiced warm drinks, music, and easy conversation is the gift of relaxation and reconnection.
The ritual of food and family predates almost every other human experience. As much as I hate to admit it I do recognize that a hearty conversation with someone you enjoy yields a far more lasting memory and benefit than receiving a new XBOX.
Such traditions, though they span decades, are not immortal. First my sister was married, then I was married. Soon the juggling of families became too much and my aunt and uncle stopped their Christmas Eve. I had not attended their Christmas Eve party for the past three years.
This past year they did not have it.
It is sad to see such a streak end. The two years when it "went on without me" were, truly, bittersweet. A part of me was glad that their event did not happen this year as, then, I would not feel the burden of missing it. A larger part of me mourns the end of an era.
A sincere thank you, then, to my dear aunt and uncle. Their decades of calm and easy memories a trove more valuable than any gift they have wrapped for me.
"When can I open a present?"
"It's past midnight. Can I open one now?"
"I don't think Santa's here yet, I want to stay up longer."
One year, I was so wound up by the promise of toys that my uncle Ralph had to go outside and fling rocks onto the rooftop to urge my hyperactive self into bed. Wasn't there an old addage: a watched santa delivers no presents? As I child I often wondered what kind of terrible self-image Santa must have had to not want anyone to look at him while he did his work.
At some point -- a point I cannot pinpoint -- we started a tradition of visiting my aunt and uncle's apartment on Christmas Eve. They would cook a marvelous dinner (most often seafood), give out their gifts that evening, sing Christmas carols, drink spiced apple cider, and generally soak in some ambiance for the season.
The first few years of this new tradition were heavenly: I got to open presents on Christmas Eve!
But while those presents were always generous, they did not match the cacophany of the following day. My family was a bit compulsive with the Christmas shopping. Coming downstairs on Christmas morning my siblings and I would find piles of gifts.. 30...40...50 for each of us, sitting in mounds sometimes taller than we were.
After a while, then, this Christmas Eve became a good distraction, something to whittle away the time as Christmas morning crept closer. I remember, as an early teenager, sipping seafood bisque one Christmas Eve like a junkie staving off the shakes that next morning's hit.
Over time, lots of time, it gradually dawned on me that Christmas Eve was a gift in and of itself -- not a way to open gifts early -- not a distraction from waiting for other gifts. To be surrounded by loved ones, holiday scents, spiced warm drinks, music, and easy conversation is the gift of relaxation and reconnection.
The ritual of food and family predates almost every other human experience. As much as I hate to admit it I do recognize that a hearty conversation with someone you enjoy yields a far more lasting memory and benefit than receiving a new XBOX.
Such traditions, though they span decades, are not immortal. First my sister was married, then I was married. Soon the juggling of families became too much and my aunt and uncle stopped their Christmas Eve. I had not attended their Christmas Eve party for the past three years.
This past year they did not have it.
It is sad to see such a streak end. The two years when it "went on without me" were, truly, bittersweet. A part of me was glad that their event did not happen this year as, then, I would not feel the burden of missing it. A larger part of me mourns the end of an era.
A sincere thank you, then, to my dear aunt and uncle. Their decades of calm and easy memories a trove more valuable than any gift they have wrapped for me.
posted by Ed at 12:50 PM
1 Comments:
I had to check out your blog after you commented on mine, and I think that you've summed it up right here in this post.
During our visit to see family and friends this last weekend, I too basked in that feeling of spending time with those you love and care about. That's what it's all about. I no longer need or want gifts, and these days, it's so rare to get together and spend time, which, in itself is the gift.
Of course, we'll see how my daughter feels about that. I hope she doesn't have to wait until my age to have that realization.
Wonderful insights, and beautiful house! I envy your Christmas dinner by the way. Mmmm.... Lobster!
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