"My father worked in profanities the way that other artists worked in oils..." Maybe one of the best, the absolute best things about Christmas is the 24 hour loop of A Christmas Story on TBS. I've watched it three times already from beginning to end and I like to keep it on, just for the mere fact that every scene or practically every line from the movie makes you smile or laugh. The more I watch it, the more I realize that although the movie itself timelessly captures a certain period in American history and culture; quintissential American life, it does more than that. It epitomizes everything that is special and memorable and magical about "that" Christmas; the one where you hoped and wished and prayed for THE gift that would define your childhood. When Ralphie reaches behind the desk to grab the wrapped rectangle that holds his prized Red Rider BB gun, it is the look on his father's face combined with the sheer joy that crosses Ralph's face as he rips the paper off at the end of the movie that immortalizes that feeling of Christmas. I've seen it a hundred times and every time it takes me back to that second when I held in my hands, the Walkman or the record or the book that I so desperately wanted that year when I was a kid. It reminds me of that incessant period of time that I had to wait, leading up to the 25th of December and how it nearly killed me, but at the same time, how the building of excitement made me nearly sick with anticipation. "That" Christmas was the one that you would always remember and Ralphie Parker's plight as he strategizes a way to get the gift of his dreams is our plight; every kid who ever wanted something so badly that we thought we were going to keel over if we didn't get it. Christmas. Another one almost gone.
I sat at St. James last night at Midnight Mass, well, at 11:00 Mass now and I sang along with the choir and I listened and I watched as the Christmas pageant was re-enacted. I looked around, the church filled to capacity as people stood lining the walls and I shook hands with my neighbors, greeting them, wishing them a happy Christmas. I thought about how much I love going to church during the holidays, yet another lovely tradition. The decorations on the alter, the warmth of community, the laughter of the congregation as a little boy in the front yells out "Hi" to Father Jim repeatedly throughout the service and the even louder laughter as Father Jim responds back. The angelic voices of the choir resonating throughout the church singing in tune to all of the annual favorites. I get chills every year when we sing, O Come All Ye Faithful, my personal anthem to the holidays and to being a Catholic. Earlier that afternoon, we attended the children's Mass where the sounds of kids of all different ages filled the church throughout the service and no one cared; babies cried, people sang and laughed and Santa made a surprise visit, ambling slowly down the aisle toward the altar to leave the baby Jesus a birthday gift. The collective surprise "Oh's" from the kids as he made his way toward them made everyone smile. Moments of sheer joy from that part of childhood that is never skeptical and which is open and accepting of what just is...
Watching my niece and nephews and my sons rip through the wrapping paper quicker than we could even hand them a gift, reminiscent of a time when Rich, Steve and I did the same thing. Tearing through one present, already reaching for another one. Katie taking our picture with her new digital camera. John and Christine building a Lincoln Log ranch for Brady and Ty. Luke's eyes rolling back in his head when I ask him if he likes his Bionicle, clearly excited at the prospect of putting it together. The anticipation and the thrill of opening up one present after the next, it almost didn't matter what it was, well, for the bigger boys it mattered, but for the little ones, it was that moment of utter exhileration and wild abandon that only comes once a year when there are several packages with your name on them and although you may not fully understand why everyone is giving you gifts, you don't really care; you just open your hands and wait for the next one.
Staying up late, wrapping last minute gifts, sitting in front of the fire, listening to Christmas music, drinking a glass of wine, contemplating the beginning of yet another year of your life, of those whom you love. You sit and think about all that it took to get you through this year; all of the joys and setbacks, the heartbreaks and the laughter and you anticipate the moments in the morning when your own family opens up the packages that you so carefully selected and which Santa specifically chose for each of them.
"Santa must have heard me say I wanted a Snuggie. We were in CVS and I said that I wanted one. How did he know?" Nick's statement this morning was one of the moments of hilarity in the hour of chaos that was decorated by screaming and shoving, throwing, yelling, squealing... I actually am enjoying watching Jake and Nick now that there are "things" that they really hope for and want and to see their faces when they get them; it makes the whole holiday worthwhile. Ty is in it solely for the ripping and the basic annihilation of packages that have his name on them. The clear evidence is strewn all over our living room floor right now in the shape of plastic dinosaurs, gumballs and tools that will never find their way back into the respective places of the toys with which they came. Every brand is represented this morning, our own personal homage to helping out with the faltering economy. Punctuating the chaos is the sneaking of candy and the brewing of coffee and the endless stream of questions "What is that? Where are the batteries for that? What did you get? What did you get? Are you sure that isn't mine?"
"The Skud Farcas Affair" "The Epic Battle of the Lamp" "He looks like a deranged Easter Bunny" That Christmas Story... so the morning ends with a trip to the grandparents house and a chance to see my nephews and sister and in laws; an opportunity to revisit a tradition that I once looked so forward to when we were first married and even before that. Brunch and presents for the kids and a chance to chat with my ever maturing 19 year old nephew who makes me think that I just blinked my eyes and he went from 2 to 19 just like that; handsome, funny, smart, yet another reminder of the fleeting passage of time. Another moment of hilarity, when Ty pulled out his new Nerf gun and fired a shot right between the 19 year old's eyes and then the laughter that ensued. Hey, it was a great shot...
Christmas is certainly a time of sentimentality and friends and family, but it's also a time to indulge those who you love. It doesn't mean that you have to buy huge gifts or even any at all, but it's a time to turn to them and to others, especially those in need and to let them know that you are thinking of them, that you care about them and what happens to them and that, particularly at this time of year, that you are considering all of those who make up your life and how much they mean to you. I find it odd when we take so much time and spend so much money to pick out just the right "gift" for someone, yet often we are unkind or mean to them otherwise. Seems kind of pointless. This year, Christine came up with the idea of making donations to charities of our choice on behalf of one another in lieu of gifts. Make a wish, Feeding America, Unicef, APLA and others were recipients of a variety of donations; a gift that made us all feel good.
I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't more than a little relieved that it's almost over too. I love this time of year, but it is stressful and overwhelming and I can barely keep my eyes open and it's only 4:00. Looking around the room, I dread the clean up process and my stomach is upset from the plethora of food that I've consumed these past 24 hours, sloshed in together with the alcohol and I have the feeling that the word indulgence doesn't begin to cover the amount of calories that I've ingested. I am feeling very slothlike at the moment even as I reach for another gumball to ease the pain. The Play Doh and Light Sabers, The Pillow Pets, The Video Games and the Candy... a never ending stream, reminders of money both well spent and wasted. I don't want to clean it up, I don't want to clean it up...
Besides, The Wizard of Oz is coming on next. And so, I light the fire and laugh at the television and I'm going to pour myself another glass of wine. Then I'm going to take a bath and make the kids tuck me into bed... a last Christmas gift for their frazzled mother.
...the stars in the sky look down where he lay, the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay..." I wish you many moments filled with love and joy and wonder in the coming year. May peace fill your hearts and make you whole... Merry Christmas!
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