Christmases Past

By my calculation this will be my 83rd Christmas celebration. While I cannot remember them all, a few stand out as something special. What I remember about my earliest Christmases was the anxieties, I suffered about presents and the aura of excitement, which surrounded the big event.

In those early days it was hard to concentrate on the underlying significance of the day. As a Catholic, the nuns had taken great pains to underscore the fact that this was not merely a day for getting and giving earthly gifts but a time when all peoples had been given the opportunity to receive the greatest gift ever conceived and that was that of eternal life with Jesus our Lord and Savior. The basic fact is that all other presents pale by comparison with the Gift of Eternal Life. 

With the past as my guide, the lure of bright and shiny new stuff often took center stage over the Nativity of Jesus Christ. Oh, we all went to Mass and prayed for baby Jesus, but the lure of a new bike and a bright, new leather fielders baseball glove were too prevalent in our overly materialistic world. When I was ten most of my friends were Jewish and had never celebrated Christmas. After a few years that changed because of their introduction to Christmas as a day for gift giving and receiving.    

Christmas celebrations changed when I got married in 1966. By Christmas of that year we were having our first child, due the next June. That was the year that songstress Connie Francis released her hit song, Baby’s First Christmas. It quickly became my favorite song. 

When Mark was finally born in July, our whole perception of Christmas assumed a new importance. For the next 50 years we enjoyed the Christmas celebrations through the eyes of our three children and four grandchildren. In doing so, we had to let go of most of our desires of self-gratification. For the first time, Christmas became more about family and others than our own desires. 

My late wife was a great lover of the Christmas celebration. I think it was her favorite time of the year because she was an inveterate gift-giver. We often spent well over $2000 to dress up our home, both on the outside and inside with bright lights and festive decorations. 

By switching to an artificial tree, we eliminated the stress of arguing over what kind of fir tree to purchase. For most of those years, the main focal point, outside of our very tall Christmas tree, was the Manger Set my late Aunt Mary Louise had given us after we were married in 1966. With the exception of two pieces, which I had to replace because they had been wiped out by a literal falling star, the complete set is just as it was when she gave it to us.  

My favorite part of any Christmas was the music, both spiritual and popular. No Christmas would have been complete without the reverent sounds of Silent Night, which to me is both a prayer and a hymn. It captures the birth of Jesus better than any 500-page book on His Nativity. Christmas music mirrors the dual ways of looking at the Christmas season. 

Other special Christmas songs are Adeste Fedelis, O’ Little Town of Bethlehem, the Christmas Hymn Emanuel,Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Mary’s Little Boy Child, and Little Drummer Boy. Silver Bells, while technically a secular song, cannot help but stimulate the spiritual imagination of the Christmas season.

Some of my favorites songs in the more secular category include White Christmas, Jingle Bells, Home for the Holidays, Winter Wonderland, Sleigh Ride, The Christmas Song (Chestnuts), Let it Snow, Have Yourself a Merry Christmas, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and one song whose title says it all: It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.

There were a few Christmases which we spent on a family cruise. Though the cruise line was not in the habit of promoting religion of any kind, they always had a priest or two to satisfy the needs of Catholics. This also gave us the choice of attending daily Mass which some of us did. While Christmas was always better at home, I really thought those years spent on the open sea were more special and memorable.

While time and the ravages of old age have clouded my memory a bit, there is one Christmas that stands out as being the most memorable of all. And this was not necessarily a good thing, because it involved a visit from our friendly police department at 9:00 PM on Christmas Eve.

While I do not remember the exact year, I do remember that I was acting like a teenage clown. Before our visit from the police department, we had all plowed through the large pile of gifts, which my wife had so lovingly provided for the entire family of nine or ten members. 

One of my presents was a bona fide Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-shot Range Model Air Rifle, which my youngest son had gotten for me. It was the signature rifle, some may have recognized as the focal point for the humorous plot in the 1983 Christmas film, A Christmas Story, one of my family’s favorite Christmas films. Of course, Matt had neglected to provide it with any ammunition because he was afraid I would shoot my eye out!

The film was based on the life of humorist Jean Shepherd, as it appeared in his book In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash. The story follows a young boy and his family’s misadventures during the Christmas of 1940, in Northwest Indiana.

The story’s protagonist was Ralphie. There  was only one gift he wanted for Christmas and that was the Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-shot Range Model Air Rifle. He suffered rejection from all circles, including Santa himself. Their loud refrain was: You’ll shoot your eye out. It was this film, which set the stage for the arrival of the Richmond Heights Police Department.

As a result, Christmas morning began with Ralphie in a tangible gloom; that is, until The Old Man (his father) pointed to a hidden corner near the tree. Keeping his boyish emotions under control, he finds to his delight that Santa had left him his rifle.

He quickly races outside in the snow to try out his prize and shoot at the metal target he had set up. Unfortunately, the BB ricochets off his target and knocks his glasses off, almost knocking his eye out. He accidentally steps on and breaks his glasses while trying to find them. 

Ralphie quickly makes up a story about an icicle, allegedly falling from the roof and hitting him in the face. Despite his setbacks when Ralphie goes to bed, he gleefully reflects on the rifle, reclining by his side, and thinks that this was the best present he had or would ever receive. 

Compared to me, I think Ralphie got off easy. My inner crazy person thought it would be cool to add to my own makeshift costume. Someone had also given me something wrapped in a large swath of green plastic. I made a primitive tunic out of it and also found a red ribbon, which I wrapped around my forehead. After I was in my full costume, or something akin to a Tasmanian warrior, the doorbell rang. I went to the front door, without my trusted rifle (I hope but am not sure.). What a surprise, two of our city’s finest.

They were here to satisfy the complaint of the owner of a fast-food hamburger place about two miles from our home. It seems that someone had tossed a large green bag, filled with Christmas wrappings and such. This man had gone through the bag and had found my address on one of the wrapping paper address labels. 

To give proper background, my late wife had a hard-fast rule about Christmas refuge. Because of the enormous number of presents, each family member was responsible for their own garbage. They had to leave with their refuge and dispose of it on their own. This system would have worked if our oldest son had not decided to take a shortcut and throw his in the dumpster outside of a hamburger shop. You have to credit the diligence and detective work of the owner who made certain our trash had been returned to us.

With the police strangely staring at me, I immediately pointed to the culprit and proclaimed He did it! So, Mark and his family accomplices meekly took our trash and disposed of it elsewhere. My mind says, they found a more isolated dumpster with poor lighting. 

In retrospect, I still get a big kick out of this. It was a Christmas for the ages, which I believe the whole family will never forget. All the other Christmases kind of meld together because of their similarities, more than their distinctions. Not this one!

While the weather was always a consideration it never affected our family Christmases. I would be remiss if I did not say that all these December days were linked together by the Holy Mass, which provided the lifeblood to the festive day. We never missed, no matter how late we were up putting out gifts and preparing the Christmas dinners. I think it is crazy memories, such as the dumpster story which add to the joy and happiness that keep families strong and together in times of, not only joy and happiness but also sorrow. As the song goes: We Are Family!*

*It was the late Pittsburgh Pirates baseball great, Willie Stargell who popularized this Sister Sledge song from 1979 during a rain delay.