As I trod through this holiday season working hard to stay upbeat and positive, since I'm prone even in the best of times to get down this time of year, I can't help but reflect on Christmases past. I have such fond memories of the entire family getting together for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Festivities always revolved around Mom and Dad, and after he passed away Mom was the glue that held the family together. It seemed that no matter how far geography took siblings away from home it was always tradition that everyone made it back for at least one of the two major holidays. Mom always pulled out the decorations and tree ornaments from ages past and we always had such fun trimming the tree, even though I could rarely talk anyone into getting a real one and the artificial tree had seen much better days. Icicles were also a sore spot with everyone else because they were so hard to clean up from, but for some reason I just loved them. Many a year I can remember Dad weaving a tapestry of obscenities trying to untangle the hastily packed lights from the prior year and figuring out which one of the hundreds of bulbs was burned out. And of course there were the many hours Mom would spend religiously handwriting notes on the multitude of cards she'd send out every year, many of which were to people she hadn't seen in decades but they got a card nevertheless. We'd pour through the cards she received as well, sometimes laughing at the detailed accounts of people's children or pets or both. For a number of years I got to put up the lights outside and I would hear from neighbors later on about how much they'd laugh watching the lights go up one way and then another as I tried to get them just right. They couldn't actually see me because I always found it easier to do it at night, They could only see the various strings of lights changing configurations until they were finally placed to my satisfaction. It was always fund preparing for the onslaught of family that would be arriving for all the goings on.
When I was young, like elementary school age, the advent season seemed to go on forever and I recall doing our gift shopping almost exclusively at Freedlander's in Wooster. I spent much of my time there wafting through the toy department and wishing for almost everything I would see on the shelves. While not as elaborate at seen in A Christmas Story, Freedlander's was always where we'd go and see Santa and tell him what we wanted that year. I don't know why but I especially have vivid memories of the old vacuum tube system they used whenever a sale was made. The clerk would write up the slip, place it in this little metal container and send it off to some unknown destination. A few minutes later it would come flying back into a little catch basket with the receipt inside. Those were the days before cash registers and credit cards when you simply had an account with them. We'd bring all of our purchases home to commence with neatly wrapping them up in preparation for putting them under the tree. Usually this was done while watching holiday themed shows on TV. I wonder how many people remember Mr. Jingaling, the keeper of the keys. Some nights we'd just drive around looking at all the elaborate lighting displays. A visit to Wachtel's farm was always on the agenda, and then there was that one house halfway between Millersburg and Wooster that always had this massive display that seemed to grow bigger and bigger every year. I wonder what their electric bill was during the holiday season! And, of course, it just wouldn't be Christmas without Norman's Bakery Christmas cookies! Everything seemed so wondrous to me as a child. I can't help but ponder why the luster fades so much into adulthood.
There were a few years that I had such a great bonding experience with Dad when we would work together and he'd direct the Holmes County Community Chorus in the annual Messiah performance at the Methodist Church. I think those times with him fueled my love of sacred and classical music, and to this day when I listen to Handel's oratorio I get a little verklempt and tearful recalling those good times we had together. I think it was the one time I truly felt Dad loved and enjoyed doing things with me. We never really connected as father and son like he did with my older brothers, and I think there was always some jealousy and regret on my part that I never really did anything that made him proud. Unfortunately he passed away before I ever made any kind of success out of myself and I'm sure he believed I'd never amount to anything. In some ways I probably never will so maybe he was right. Hopefully he's looked down and seen some of the things I've done and maybe has been able to actually be a little proud of accomplishments I've achieved. I'd like to think so anyway. I'm so thankful that Mom and I had so many years together after his passing and she was at least able to experience some of my successes in life. One of the things we shared was our propensity to get down during the holidays. Through my sister's participation in some of my recent experiences I came to understand that she also suffered from clinical depression even though it was never talked about at the time. I remember her hatred and loathing of the classic holiday movie It's a Wonderful Life and have only recently begun to understand why. I think it was a reminder to her, as it is to me, that we didn't have that ideal family experience and there was some undisclosed regret about how her life turned out. I can only take comfort in the fact that I know she was able to make peace with all of that before she died.
Christmas Eve always included the candle light service at church followed by opening one gift for each of us around the tree before the rest of the family arrived Christmas morning, which was the really big deal. Every year Dad was in charge of breakfast and would make waffles in this ancient waffle iron that I'm sure was a huge electrical hazard. We would also feast on this specially made smoked sausage but I can't remember where it was procured. The entire family would descend on our house with their own families in tow. As wonderful as breakfast always was, it delayed the official opening of gifts and the anticipation was intense, at least for me. Finally, after cleanup from the breakfast feast was completed, we'd gather around the tree and someone would be designated as Santa to hand out the gifts one by one. We'd wait until everyone had one and then the cacophony of ripping and tearing sounds would commence as the gifts were opened. Each of us would hold up our gifts to proudly show them, whatever they might be. Sometimes there was little surprise as to what we got, as I remember times when my sister and I would tell each other what Mom and Dad got us. We just couldn't keep secrets well. I specifically remember one year her telling me I was getting a train set and I divulged that her gift was a huge stuffed animal of some sort. I even recall one year making Mom open the gift I got her early because I was so proud of it and just couldn't wait for her to have it. I guess it comes from my lack of patience and my inability to curb my enthusiasm. I'm sure it drove her a little nuts but it always turned out fine.
Growing up I always had the impression that we had such a close family, and in hindsight I think we really did. I feel like that all came to an end, though, when Mom died. Come to think of it, her funeral was the last time our family came together all at the same time, and that was thirteen years ago. The glue that held us all together was gone and things have never been the same since. We have all gone off to live our separate lives. Some of us do remain moderately close, probably mostly due to geographic proximity. Even though expanses of time go by without much contact, I am very grateful that my sister and oldest brother are close enough to spend time together now and then, and once in a while more distant siblings make the trek out to Arizona for visits. But it's just not the same as it once was. The magic and wonder of the holidays have really faded. It's been years since I've even decorated or done the gift thing. I tend now to avoid holiday functions because they make me very emotional and it bothers me to be choked up or tearful in public. Some of my friends, especially at work, have started to consider me somewhat of a Scrooge, but that's certainly not my intention. I have nothing against those who go all in for the holidays, it's just difficult for me to do it myself these days. Maybe one of these years I'll be able to more fully participate in all the merry making surrounding this time of year, but for now I simply must do what I have to in order to make it through. Maybe my expectations are just too high and I'm afraid of being disappointed, I don't know. As they say, it is what it is. I doubt there will be a time again within my lifetime that the whole family will be together in one place simultaneously. I'm afraid the adhesive that held everything together for our family has now long since worn away. I guess it's necessary now to embark on trying new things and developing new traditions, but being ever mindful of the warm memories from Christmases past and missing horribly that glue that bonded us so closely together, even if for only a brief time in the grand scheme of things.
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