Christmas holiday traditions, I’m more or less convinced, are an invention of Hollywood and Madison Avenue.
We live in times that move at light-speed. What we as children did to commemorate the birth of the baby Jesus just no longer means watching “A Charlie Brown Christmas” and “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” while trimming a fresh-cut tree and sipping eggnog. Of course there was always an album of Christmas music from the local tire store.
In my day, you whippersnappers, the holidays began with the delivery of Christmas catalogs. Sears, Montgomery Ward’s, J.C. Penney’s all sent the perfect-bound, four-color, glossy paper jam-packed with glorious photos of the latest must-haves from Mattel, Hasbro and Schwinn.
That’s when we knew Christmas was truly nigh, and we’d talk loudly about the products on the catalog display of items right there in our very own family room with the hopes Santa and the sibling who drew your name would hear your request. Dog-earing the catalog page with your preferred choice was also a winning tactic.
Nowadays, it’s all internet and Amazon Prime rather than Black Friday arses and elbows at the local mall the day after Thanksgiving. To tell you the truth, this recent development is my preferred way of shopping, especially when I can order gifts for my daughters, granddaughter, and stepdaughters, and have them delivered directly to their respective doorsteps.
Even more preferred is this year’s recent development. The World’s Most Beautiful Woman and I opted to change things up and establish a new tradition twixt ourselves. We establish a price limit, purchase what we want for ourselves, and allow it to be wrapped and set beneath the tree. It’s not terribly surprising, but I’m eagerly anticipating finally opening the autographed Jac Ford fly fishing book I selected for myself this year. It’s Just What I Asked For!
About that tree … well, we gave up the travails of purchasing a tree from a tree lot or farm years ago. It all seemed so messy, time-sucking and, truthfully, wasteful of resources both environmental and financial. This is not to discourage anyone else from their own traditional live-tree extravaganza, but I’m thankful I don’t have to pick pine needles out of the baseboards for the rest of the year. The tree we repurpose annually suits us just fine.
Since I brought up technology, it’s also a wonderful development to check in with family and friends who cannot make it to Michigan for the holidays (I use Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays interchangeably, because it’s a season devoid of politically polarizing negativity for me) with communication devices that actually allow visual connections with loved ones in other states and countries. Results may vary.
Ain’t nothing like the real thing, baby, but it’s better than racking-up long-distance charges on the old party-line Bakelite devices.
One tradition carried over from my childhood to the present is the necessity of an oyster stew on Christmas Eve with traditional Irish sourdough bread and an assortment of Irish cheeses. It’s a relatively new tradition in my household, but one that has become very important (to me, at least).
Who knows? Perhaps I’ll read Dylan Thomas’ “A Child’s Christmas in Wales” to visiting relatives and friends? I do know I’ll crack open a bottle of Lagavulin during the evening.
At some point, we’ll keep the Irish/Welsh/Scottish/whatever theme going with a Christmas mix CD featuring the Pogues and Kirsty MacColl, the Kinks, Syd Straw and a host of others to help us stay awake until Midnight Mass.
However you choose to celebrate Christmas in your own homes, I wish you all peace, contentment, happiness and spiritual joy. As daylight hours become longer, let’s hope we can expand our patience and understanding of one another accordingly each and every day, not just Christmas.
Bruce Edward Walker (walker.editorial@gmail.com) is a Morning Sun columnist.
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