But why at "Christmas" time?
Those sorts of things should be practiced all year long regardless of Religious occasion.
Those sorts of things should be practiced all year long regardless of Religious occasion.
Does anyone care about Christmas anymore?
- Thread starter Warped9
- Start date
Of course. Sorry, I didn't mean to imply otherwise, I just feel that there's a little extra something during the holiday season that makes people try harder. It's not always easy to maintain that attitude throughout the year, but I commend those that do.
Christmas has always meant a lot to me. It's magical and special, and it's something that I always shared the most with my dad. He's gone now, so I can't say that Christmas will ever quite be the same for me. It's not exactly sad, if anything it's that much more meaningful, but it's different now. I don't think I'll ever be able to completely recapture that magic again until I have my own kids, and then it'll be a different kind of magic. I honestly can't wait to do that.
In the meantime, I cherish the memories. There was one Christmas in particular that I think about a lot. I was five years old and my parents had just divorced, so it was my first split Christmas. My mom decided that Christmas was something I should spend with my dad since I spent most of the rest of my days with my mom. However, I lived in a small town with her and she wanted me to go to Christmas Mass at the catholic church. She wasn't religious and neither am I, but when you live in a small community, a thing like that isn't about religion. It's about a group of people coming together to share something. It ain't nothin' but a family thing, as the phrase goes.
I sang in the choir, and I think participated in some kind of candle lighting ceremony (advent wreath?) with some other kids my age, including some of my friends. I think we ate cake too. I remember liking that. More importantly, my dad and my stepmom came. They sat in the back, while my mom was in the choir loft, but I could see them both, all together in this large extended family. I had no delusions about their separation, but it was the first time I'd really seen them back together, and that was nice.
After that, I left with my dad and stepmom. My dad had a truck, so we were all squished together in the cab, driving down snowy country roads late at night back to my dad's house in the woods. I'm sure the moon was out. I always notice the moon. Anyway, when we got back to the house, the first thing I noticed was the tree.
Now, the tree was something we had all done together as a family a few weeks before. I had gone out into the forest with my dad and we had selected one of the trees on our property, cut it down, and brought it back with us. Then my stepmom and I spent the rest of the day setting it up and decorating it. We were pretty poor and kind of a new family, so we made a lot of the decorations ourselves using construction paper and crayons. I still have a lot of those.
So there was the tree, it was beautiful, but my young eyes immediately saw something else. Upon our return from mass, sitting at the bottom of the tree was a little red wagon. Santa had come. I wasn't expecting that and it was exciting. I wanted to open all of my presents right then, but I knew I couldn't. We stoked the fire (the house was heated by a woodstove and always smelled like wood fire), we drank some apple cider, ate some candy, and went to bed.
I don't really remember the next morning as much. I know that I couldn't sleep very well from the excitement, and there was that christmas morning feeling you can't really describe, and that we opened presents and watched as the wrapping burned green in the stove, but I don't really remember what any of my presents were. All except for that little red wagon. From Santa. My dad.
In the meantime, I cherish the memories. There was one Christmas in particular that I think about a lot. I was five years old and my parents had just divorced, so it was my first split Christmas. My mom decided that Christmas was something I should spend with my dad since I spent most of the rest of my days with my mom. However, I lived in a small town with her and she wanted me to go to Christmas Mass at the catholic church. She wasn't religious and neither am I, but when you live in a small community, a thing like that isn't about religion. It's about a group of people coming together to share something. It ain't nothin' but a family thing, as the phrase goes.
I sang in the choir, and I think participated in some kind of candle lighting ceremony (advent wreath?) with some other kids my age, including some of my friends. I think we ate cake too. I remember liking that. More importantly, my dad and my stepmom came. They sat in the back, while my mom was in the choir loft, but I could see them both, all together in this large extended family. I had no delusions about their separation, but it was the first time I'd really seen them back together, and that was nice.
After that, I left with my dad and stepmom. My dad had a truck, so we were all squished together in the cab, driving down snowy country roads late at night back to my dad's house in the woods. I'm sure the moon was out. I always notice the moon. Anyway, when we got back to the house, the first thing I noticed was the tree.
Now, the tree was something we had all done together as a family a few weeks before. I had gone out into the forest with my dad and we had selected one of the trees on our property, cut it down, and brought it back with us. Then my stepmom and I spent the rest of the day setting it up and decorating it. We were pretty poor and kind of a new family, so we made a lot of the decorations ourselves using construction paper and crayons. I still have a lot of those.
So there was the tree, it was beautiful, but my young eyes immediately saw something else. Upon our return from mass, sitting at the bottom of the tree was a little red wagon. Santa had come. I wasn't expecting that and it was exciting. I wanted to open all of my presents right then, but I knew I couldn't. We stoked the fire (the house was heated by a woodstove and always smelled like wood fire), we drank some apple cider, ate some candy, and went to bed.
I don't really remember the next morning as much. I know that I couldn't sleep very well from the excitement, and there was that christmas morning feeling you can't really describe, and that we opened presents and watched as the wrapping burned green in the stove, but I don't really remember what any of my presents were. All except for that little red wagon. From Santa. My dad.
You didn't imply otherwise. Just something I wanted to point out.
Captain X
Rear Admiral
That's actually one of the things that pisses me off about Christmas, because for all of the "peace on earth" and good will towards men" bullshit, people seem to be assholes to each other even more this time of year than any other.
I don't really remember the next morning as much. I know that I couldn't sleep very well from the excitement, and there was that christmas morning feeling you can't really describe, and that we opened presents and watched as the wrapping burned green in the stove, but I don't really remember what any of my presents were. All except for that little red wagon. From Santa. My dad.
That is an excellent story. It's good that at such a potentially difficult time in your life, with your parents divorced, they still went to such efforts to make sure you'd have a pleasant Christmastime.
Our daughter will be 14 this month, and one of the greatest memories is of her sleeping on the sofa, next to the tree on so many Christmas Eves. The last couple of years, my wife chided me a bit saying "won't it be difficult to get the presents under the tree without waking her up?" Heh... yeah she was plenty old enough to know all the truths, so that if we did wake her up, no harm done except maybe the tiniest dimming of the magic. The wonderful part is that for us, we were able to see our daughter still being that little girl in a way, at least one more time.
That's so sweet! I hope to be able to have stories like that with my own kids.
Yeah, my parents were incredible. That story was mainly about my dad, but Christmas is special with my mom too. Together, we made this great Christmas card to send out to family a couple of years ago. It's extra meaningful to me, because that was the first Christmas we had together after she survived a close call with lymphoma.
Yeah, my parents were incredible. That story was mainly about my dad, but Christmas is special with my mom too. Together, we made this great Christmas card to send out to family a couple of years ago. It's extra meaningful to me, because that was the first Christmas we had together after she survived a close call with lymphoma.
Philo, that was a wonderful, evocative Christmas story; it would make a nice short story or movie.
She always joked that it gave her a welcome break from having to take care of us kids.
Philo, that was a wonderful, evocative Christmas story; it would make a nice short story or movie.
Hah! Aside from the personal experience, you don't think it's a little trite? I mean, "little red wagon"? I should submit it for the 317th edition of Chicken Soup for the Soul.
Seriously though, thanks. I appreciate that. I wasn't actually expecting anybody to read it. I wrote it out for my own benefit more than anything.
^^ No, I don't think your life is trite.
Although you could throw in an alien invasion or something if you want.
Although you could throw in an alien invasion or something if you want.
^^ No, I don't think your life is trite.
Although you could throw in an alien invasion or something if you want.
Alien invasion is always good for effect.
