Nanaimo Bar. The smell of Douglas Fir sap permeates the living room air. These are my childhood Christmas memories. When I close my eyes and drift back, these are the things that fill my mind.
I worry that we as a society have been conditioned to think that Christmas is a retail sales season, that the biggest present wins, that the highest seasonal margin gets all the news. I find that sad and find myself hoping that I have taught my children that this is a season of giving, sharing, and being together. After all, the first gifts were not purchased, they were given from the personal treasures of the givers. They were important and valuable personal sacrifices to show how much the recipient was valued to them. Simply going to a store and buying something to give away seems far less personally invested to me.
When I think back to past Christmas days, I actually find it hard to remember *things* that I received as gifts, and while they were surely nice presents, the gifts I remember most are the intangibles.
The uncontrollable and wondrous laughter of a 3 year old child on Christmas morning.
Sniffing and grunting noises from a puppy who just dug through loose wrapping to find delicious bone treats.
Digging walnuts from the bottom of a Christmas stocking, that you know had grown in the back yard the summer before.
Mincemeat and Butter Tarts, Nanaimo Bar and Sugar Cookies, Gingerbread and Shortbread, a fat turkey broiling in the oven.
I have a vivid memory that comes to me every year around this time, of my eldest sister and I sitting under the Christmas tree on our living room floor. I must have been 8 or 9 years of age. The tree was covered in gold and red and it smelled as if it had been cut the day before. She had just opened her present from my parents, a 35mm camera that I am sure she was not expecting. What I remember the most though was the joy in her eyes, the immediate understanding of what it represented in freedom, creative expression, power for self expansion. This was a gift of understanding, of future growth, of belief in potential. This is when I learned that value and price are two very different things.
In those days Christmas day was a large family event. After opening our own stockings at home, we would pile into the ugly 1972 station wagon and drive to my grandparents house about an hour away. My cousins had done the same and by early afternoon there were at least twenty of us kids, aunts, uncles, friends all gathered throughout the house, by the tree and huddled around the fire. Some in the living room, some in the kitchen, others in the huge dining room that now had a table with seating for a small hungry army. A feast was baking and brewing and broiling in the kitchen there under the masterful guidance of my Grandmother. For those who were lucky enough to sleep over night, Boxing Day started with Grandpa's silver dollar pancakes - a rare treat. I don't have to close my eyes very tightly to see them still in my minds eye, smell and hear and feel the joys of Christmas with extended family. That was long ago and far away.
Today my family has both shrunk and expanded. Like many people, there are new traditions and new memories to be made. Still, the best recent memories of past Christmases are not about things, but events, smells, tastes - pictures frozen in my mind.
- Children decorating sugar cookies, icing and sprinkles covering the kitchen.
- Hanging decades worth of collected personalized ornaments.
- Placing that hand made reindeer on it's special spot on the wall.
These are the things I hope that my children will remember and understand about Christmas. The most valuable gift you can give cannot be bought at any store.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
No comments:
Post a Comment