Walking the Wall

Well, not quite the night before, but it feels like it. I finished my batches of Almond Crunch and Pizelles for neighbor gifts today, nearly all of our presents are bought and wrapped and under the Christmas tree, the house is quiet and the tree looks lovely and it is just a moment to remember what Christmas is.

I adore Christmas, some might even say I’m a bit of a Christmas fanatic, not over the top, but certainly gung ho about it all. I love the reds and greens and golds, I love the chaos of the ornaments and being able to look at them and think–oh, there is the beaded wreath that my sister Joanna made me when she was little, these are the ones my daughter has picked out over the last years of "yearly special ornaments," here is the one my friend gave me the first year we were friend’s, and so on. I love restocking the tree with candy canes after we’ve eaten enough to make them thinned out.

I was so excited to find this picture this past mother’s day when we were digging through old photographs putting together my mom’s gift–it is a picture of me and my older brother in the 70s (easy to guess by his shirt alone!). We stopped celebrating Christmas when I was in 5th grade due to religious convictions and I don’t know how much that comes into play–certainly somewhat, but I think I would have been big on Christmas regardless. I have little memories of setting up the Christmas tree, of putting on the tinsel and making cookies with my mom. But mostly, I remember our nativity set. It was quite a large one (at least in my memories) and it was extra special to me as a child because the baby Jesus could come out of his manager–he wasn’t glued in like most of the nativities I have seen. I have very vivid memories of getting that nativity out, piece by piece, and setting it all up "just so".

I think that is what Christmas embodies to me–memories. Memories all twisted up like the red stripes on a Candy Cane. Today’s modern Christmas is a mish mash of beautiful traditions. The idea of people of old celebrating the Winter Solstice, of light and life in the middle of winter to get them through the long, cold, dark days; the beautiful Christian traditions that later melded in, the symbolism behind Father Winter, Santa Claus Saint Nicholas–so many different cultures and beliefs that have all tangled together to make the modern Christmas. Certainly a great deal of materialism and capitalism has also swamped the holiday, but I choose to ignore that. The spirit of Christmas for me is the spirit of remembering–think the Christmas Carol–the time of the year to remember the past, enjoy the present, and dream the future–a time to make new memories for my own family.

This year I got a special gift. I have never had a picture of my children sitting on Santa’s lap because, quite frankly, my son was terrified of mall Santa’s (and the Easter bunny) and his terror likely infected my daughter so that both would patently move in the opposite direction of anything in the mall resembling "Santa’s Palace". They were quite content to have Santa come fill their stockings while they were sleeping, no need to push the relationship face to face. We went, for nostalgia sake, to a little local Children’s Wonderland full of little mechanical figures in various settings that are magical to the very little and wonderfully corny to everyone else. Right in the middle of this wonderland was none other than Santa’s Palace with Santa throned in the middle of it all. It was fun to watch the little kids, some running eagerly with grins, others sitting with scrunched up faces wondering why their parents had abandoned them to this red and white big person. I admit it, I played the guilt card, and after a struggle, I got my children to stand (stand next to only, NO sitting on laps) next to Santa for a picture. I adore it–one more memory, one more funny story, one more picture to pull out and say…"Remember when…"