WITH VISIONS OF SUGAR PLUMS DANCING IN MY HEAD

With the Christmas season upon us, I was hoping to find visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, but, I found the ghost of Gary lurking there instead.

Talk about a downer.

I mean really, was it too much to ask him to vacate my brain during the holiday season? Sure, I had invited him in while I wrote my book and blog, but for him to assume that I wanted him to take up permanent residence in my head was just plain selfish on his part; and too much to take for me.

Thus, I decided that this week, I would take a stroll into my memory and relive my Christmas past.

That ought to kick his ass out for a while, don’t you think?

Let the stroll begin………

I’m not sure if it was the times or my youth, but things seemed so much simpler back then.

There were no malls or cyber Monday; no camping out at the electronic store to get 150% off the one item that you had to purchase, only to find out that 1,000 other people were there for the same item; of which there was only one available.

High tech shopping meant perusing the Sears catalog, placing an order by land-line telephone and picking it up at the store; you remember the hundreds of numbered bins you had to search through to find your purchase? It was great…

Shopping was done in little towns scattered across the nation. Christmas decorations would line the streets and carols would be playing over a loud speaker for all to hear and enjoy.

Mangers and Menorahs shared the spotlight with no one being insulted or outraged, threatened or confused. It was a time for tolerance and acceptance.

Children wrote out their Christmas lists for Santa with no expectations of getting everything they had put on their list.

Christmas was not a time of greed, but a time of family, traditions and togetherness.

I have such fond memories of my dad taking my sisters and me into town to shop for the perfect gift for our mom. I looked forward to this every year, as it was one of the highlights of the season for me.

Being alone with our dad, who worked so many hours each week was a treat; and the simple fact that he let my sisters and I have a say in what his purchase would be made me feel very special, and almost grown up.

An outfit or a piece of jewelry, it didn’t matter what we purchased, mom would love it; she always did.

Back in the day, Thanksgiving was actually an important holiday all unto itself; not just the lead-up to Christmas. So, decorating for the holidays never started until after Thanksgiving in our house; with the most exciting build up to Christmas being the placing of the Manger on the mantle.

Every evening we would move the wise men closer to the stable; having them arrive on Christmas morning.

It was the little things like our Manger, things that didn’t cost any money that meant the most to us. Family traditions, embedded in our lives; always there in our memories and hearts.

About a week before Christmas we would all pile into the car and search for our perfect tree. Our tree was put up on Christmas Eve evening; never before. We would all have dinner in front of the TV watching Amahl and the Night Visitor. Then the decorating of the tree would begin; all the while my sisters and I would giggle and laugh with excitement in anticipation for the following morning.

The hanging of our stockings and the placing of the milk and cookies would come last, and then it was off to bed with us.

Sleep came hard that night; the excitement for the following morning was almost too much to bear. Gifts, relatives, food and more; we couldn’t wait.

At 7:00am we were up and ready to go. Whichever one us my sisters or I got up first, we would wake the others and off into our parent’s room we would go to wake them up, then it was back into our room while the gifts were placed and the lights lit on the tree.

Let the fun begin.

With my sisters along side of me, we would race down the stairs to see the most beautiful sight; our tree all lit up with lights, and a treasure trove of gifts lying around it, just waiting for us to rip them open and revile in the gifts that Santa had brought us.

In our family, we always spent Christmas day with my dad’s side of the family. We would rotate each year between our house and my dad’s brother and sister’s homes. I loved it, we got to see our cousins, exchange more gifts, eat and just laugh.

My mother’s family would come the following weekend, thus making Christmas last even that much longer. Eating, presents, and family; God I love holidays.

Those innocent years are something that I find myself longing for. It is so true that youth is wasted on the young. We struggle to grow up faster than we need to when we should be cherishing the time that we have as young, carefree children.

It was when my family moved to Illinois the summer preceding my going into the eighth grade that some of my favorite traditions started.

I might have become a teenager, but my family and our holiday traditions still meant everything to me. It was the stability of it all I think that made even our move across the country doable. We survived because of our strength as a family and our traditions, new and old.

Moving was a difficult time for us. We had left Barbara, our older sister in New Jersey at college, which added to the stress of moving to a new state so far away. She would be alone without us; although close family friends were near enough to lend a helping hand if needed, but it just wasn't the same without her with us.

Our first Christmas in the great state of Illinois was snowy and cold; and with nothing familiar to us, we forged ahead and proceeded to create new traditions and memories for our little family.

My sister Susan was very smart and popular and was usually out and about with friends or studying. She was the cool sister, and the oldest for me now that Barbara wasn't at home with us.

So, when it came time to go tree shopping my dad and I went alone. Thus, starting a tradition that lasted until I got married; my father and I went alone, every Christmas after that for our tree.

I looked forward to that outing as much as I anticipated with excitement Christmas morning. It was a time that was just for me and my dad, no one else. We picked the tree together; with my mother always loving our choice.

That first year, as I said was difficult for us. The evening we chose to buy our tree was cold with wet snow falling. We were in a state that we were not familiar with, with people we didn’t know and just looking for something that we could hold on to.

So, as the search continued for our perfect tree, we wandered into the town of Aurora and into a jewelry store. It seems that my dad had more than just a tree on his mind.

We were going to buy my mom diamond earrings.

I was so excited to be a part of this; and when the jeweler asked me if I wanted to hold the earrings to get a better look, I thought I would pass out for sure. This man was going to trust me to hold on to these beautiful diamond earrings; and my dad had actually asked for my opinion on which ones to purchase.

For me, that bitter cold snowy evening on that December night so long ago is one of the strongest and fondest memories that I have of any Christmas still to today.

Alone, 1000 miles away from family and close friends, that first Christmas in Illinois was perfect. My sisters and I, along with our parents shared that time alone, just us.

Being alone with the ones you love, when away from home and familiarity, can cement the feelings that you always had; just forgotten; or had unknowingly taken for granted.

It was that Christmas that I realized just how much I needed, loved and cherished my family. I missed our relatives and the hectic hustle of the day, but every once in a while, I think families need to be alone on such significant days, to remember and to see just how important each other is in our lives.

Dinner was magnificent. My dad was the one who came up with new traditions and special things that made difficult times more bearable. He had a way of making even the most difficult times special.

The table was set with our finest china, linen napkins and best glasses. We dined on filet mignon, red leaf lettuce, potatoes and more.

That evening, when I went to bed, I thanked God for giving me such a perfect family.

Life might not be so bad after all in this very strange state of Illinois.

We lived in Illinois for two years. Moving back was bitter sweet for me; but to see family and friends again, especially during the Christmas holidays was great.

Christmas became very hectic for me once I married Gary. Shit, he’s back…. Fast forwarding to my life with Matt; I don’t have the strength to visit Garyland this week.

When Matt and I married, one of the things I had the nerve to insist on was that we always get a real tree for Christmas. I couldn’t comprehend having a fake tree; ever.

Not having that beautiful evergreen aroma spread through the house was not something that I would tolerate; still wont.

Christmas morning for our children was like it was for me; waking up at 7, setting up the gifts and setting the perfect stage for the day.

Shayne would undoubtedly get up at 5am; with Matt and I forcing him back to bed till 7. Once 7am came around and Matt and I had gotten things ready, the ripping would begin.

Shayne would tear through his gifts in about two minutes; Brittany would methodically open each gift with great care, never tearing the paper; and Anthony was the steady-as–you go type.

Life was good.

We have had our tight years, and years when things weren’t going well for the family in general; but it always seemed ok on Christmas.

It didn't matter if the pile of gifts was smaller from one to the next. It mattered that we were healthy, together and with family.

There truly is something magical and special about the Christmas season that tends to bring out the best in everyone; regardless of family situations or problems.

With the loss of our mother last year, Christmas, to say the least, is different.

As the different memories of my mom flood back into my mind, I remember her with laughter and joy, sorry and sadness.

On this second Christmas without her, I have come to believe that Christmas morning has a mystery and mystique to it that tends to calm and sooth; at least for me anyway.

I will cry my way through the preceding weeks leading up to the 25th, and then wake up with a sense of peace, knowing that my mother is still with us and sharing with us as we celebrate together as a family.

She is always in my heart and I know that she burns brighter during this time of year; and for that I am so grateful.

For this holiday season I wish for all my friends, family and blog readers a joyous, healthy and peaceful Christmas and a Happy New Year.