Christmastime

  One thing that I miss from my childhood is the magic of Christmas.  Even if some of it endured, it would be very nice, but in reality, it falls to the wayside as many things do in this non-Peter Pan world.  As a child, I don't remember being a big proponent to Santa Claus.  I think my little logical mind wouldn't allow it, but I loved Christmas nonetheless.  When I was small, it seemed that the days leading up to Christmas were very magical, indeed.  Christmas was always a special time as a boy, largely because of my grandparents on both sides of the family.  After all, grandparents, in reality, are Santa's helpers in remote locations away from the North Pole. 

There were several ingredients to Christmas that made it special:

- Spending time with my cousins was always fun.  With myself and two sisters and five cousins, the house seemed very active and lively.  On Christmas morning, opening presents was an exciting event.  I sometimes wonder if my six children recall Christmas morning.  They were a small army unto themselves, so opening presents was quite an affair, being quickly absorbed into an ocean of wrapping paper!

Remember the old fashioned
Christmas Tree lights?  One
burned out and they all went out.

- Every year my grandfather would put up colourful lights outside, and I am not talking the itty-bitty lights but the big bulbs that were half the size of regular light bulbs, technically known as C9 lamps.  There were always electric candelabras in every window as well.  Being the kind of kid that I was, I would sometimes rearrange the coloured light bulbs in different orders.

- Omigosh, the food!  Lots of it.  In particular, the yeast rolls, squash pies, and the best apple pies in the world.  The mashed potatoes were always perfect and turkey and hams that would melt in your mouth.

- A house full of family at Christmas seemed so very cozy, cold Maine winter outside and the physical and mental warmness inside.

- Back then, you could always count on a White Christmas so we would happily go outside to make tunnels and angels in the snow, sporting our new, hand knit, mittens and caps, and perhaps new coats or boots or maybe sweaters or snow pants.  Knitting mittens was one thing that 'Gram' was very dedicated to.  I remember many evenings that she would have one eye watching television and the other on her knitting.

- Some of my fondest moments were the hours spent on the living room floor playing with toys thoughtfully provided by family.

  Even now, as I get older, a spark of Christmas magic sometimes touches me, and for a brief moment I can feel that old familiar warmth inside.  I wish it would happen more often, but if it did, would it lose that special feeling?  I think not.

  Merry Christmas to all, far and near.

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful. - Norman Vincent Peale