Christmas now and then

      As a young child, I would lay in my bed on Christmas Eve hoping to hear sleigh bells telling me of the approaching man in red. I would have my covers pulled up under my chin, so I could close my eyes quickly and look like I was fast asleep. My parents had told me if Santa saw me with open eyes, he would go right past our house without stopping. In future years I thought that was rather cruel of them. I believe in a child’s mind; Christmas Eve was the most magical of nights. The only thing that filled your thoughts was Santa being in your house leaving you gifts you had been dreaming about for months, eating the cookies and drinking the milk you left for him, and the remains of a few carrots given to the hard-working reindeer. There were no thoughts of school or chores. No fighting with siblings or time outs for cussing. Just a quiet, warm feeling of anticipation that eventually did result in a deep and happy sleep.

     Like an electric shock, you would awaken and jump out of bed meeting your siblings at the top of the stairs as if all of you were wired the same way. Even though you wanted to skip the stairs altogether, you crept down each one until the living room with its brightly lighted tree came into view. And then, WOOSH, down the remaining steps and into a room full of dreams just waiting for you to claim as your own. You didn’t even notice mom and dad enter the room smiles on their faces as they watched you tear into the carefully wrapped boxes. Screams of joy with each gift, flashbulbs going off as dad tried to memorialize every moment for future viewing. In our house, there was always one child each year that got a gift that was extra special. I was eight I recall when it was my turn for that extra gift that we had wished for all year but were told even Santa couldn’t always bring everything we wanted. My dad told me to have a look in the front room closet and I almost knocked over the tree to get to it.

     Opening the closet door, I saw it. The gift every boy wanted that year, but few would probably get. Hiding in the darkness of the closet was a GI Joe Army tank. It was almost as big as my little sister and without knowing my dad had the remote control it came to life with a sound only too familiar to me as I had been watching commercials all year for it. It rolled out of the closet, headlights piercing the darkness, turret swiveling and the muzzle glowing red. I screamed with delight as dad handed me the remote and I took command of the best present a boy could ever hope for. Sure, the red rider bb gun and the radio flyer wagon were all cool toys, but nothing ever compared to that GI Joe tank.

     It’s sad that we as a nation have put ourselves in a situation where toys of this nature aren’t welcome in many households, that toy guns can be mistaken for real and a child banishing a red rider toy gun could never take it outside in fear of being shot with the real thing by a nervous neighbor. In my neighborhood in the late 1950s after all the presents had been opened and a hearty breakfast eaten kids by the dozens went outside with their new toy guns, knives, tanks, and submachine guns. It was a virtual army of kids choosing sides to play war. Parents took pictures and the innocence of youth was captured for generations to come. Now it’s video games that guarantee kids sitting inside for hours upon end never leaving their rooms until their bladders are about to break. No outside no fresh air no games played with toy guns or bows and rubber plunger arrows.

     I am sixty-nine years old now and my small home is decorated with colored lights and a small tree that usually comes out of storage way too early. I attempt to bake cookies from mom’s recipe box that has been with me for time unknown. I spend hours wrapping gifts for my grandkids knowing they will never know how very bad I am at wrapping. Christmas music fills my home with the classics that I remember filling the house I grew up in. On Christmas Eve alone with my memories, I lay in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin, listening for sleigh bells and remembering all that Christmas means to me.

     MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!