Tradition Transition-Part I

Although we still have Thanksgiving to celebrate, my thoughts have already turned to Christmas. Because we are sending my oldest daughter across the pond to visit my younger daughter in London for the Christmas holidays we will be celebrating Christmas with her early when she is home for Thanksgiving. We will be killing two birds (turkeys) with one stone so to speak. So I need to clean and decorate the house, wrap the gifts, and plan the menus for her five day visit. I began to think about the Christmas traditions I grew up with and how that has translated to my children's traditions.

When I was a young child my mother would load us all into the car shortly after Thanksgiving so we could go pick out a Christmas tree. It was always exciting because it meant the beginning of this very magical holiday season. Bundled up in fuzzy hats and gloves, coats buttoned up tight to keep out the winter chill, we would traipse around the tree lot scouring out the best tree. Once the tree was selected we would hurry home to get it into the stand and then we would warm ourselves with hot chocolate. My mother would then wrap the tree with lights and tinsel, beginning the tree's transformation from ordinary to wondrous. Once this preliminary work was done she would turn us loose to finish decorating the tree, applying silvery icicles, shiny glass balls, and assorted handmade ornaments while she set out other decorations throughout the house. With Chrismas carols playing in the background it was a happy event, the kickoff for good things to come. Afterward, in the glow of the tree lights, my siblings and I would huddle over the Sears or JCPenney toy catalog, making our wish lists for Santa. We would go to bed dreaming of the toys we hoped to receive.

Over the course of the season we would rush into the living room every morning to see what packages Santa had left under the tree. Santa visited nearly every night at our house, dropping off a gift or two each time. With six children it would have been too much for him to handle all the gifts in one night. We would shake and feel those packages trying our best to guess what was inside. The excitement would build over the weeks as the pile of gifts began to spread beneath the tree.

Down the street at my Grandparents' house a transformation was also in progress. My grandmother had a smaller tree in her living room and a tiny Christmas village on display in front of the large windows. There was a white picket fence surrounding the village, tiny ice skaters on mirrored ponds, open-mouthed carolers singing in the snow, and the nativity displayed in the tiny church. Below the table upon which the village sat, assorted gifts wrapped in tissue paper and tied with ribbon were appearing day by day for us and our cousins.

Finally the big day would arrive - Christmas Eve. Our house and my grandmother's house were abuzz with activity. Scents of ham and sweet potatoes, pies and cookies filled the air as the feast was prepared. Last minute shopping and cleaning were finished and tables set. With all of us scrubbed clean and dressed we were finally ready for the evening to begin. As soon as it was dark enough we would load up into the car for a drive around town to see all the Christmas lights. Through neighborhoods we would travel, oohing and ahhing over the festive displays. Then we would arrive back home and walk down the block to our grandparents' house. We would gather for dinner along with my aunt, uncle and our three cousins. After dinner we would anxiously await the moment when we moved into the living room to open gifts. With everyone seated my grandmother would pass out the gifts one or two at a time so we could all see what everyone got and share in the excitement. After all the gifts were opened the kids would play while the adults cleaned up a bit and gathered up their belongings, preparing to move up the street to our own home. During this time my mother was suspiciously absent, on an errand for Santa I believe. Finally we would pull on our coats and run excitedly up the block.

We were greeted by our parents, my mother with the movie camera in hand as we burst through the front door. There we would find that Santa had been there and had left the "big" gifts, some wrapped and others draped with sheets. We could hardly stand the waiting for everyone to get settled so we could begin the unwrapping. Then we would rip open the packages one by one to reveal the treasures we had been dreaming of - a bicycle, a telescope, a play stove or a doll. It was a most incredible night of magic that only happens in those few years of childhood where anything is possible and dreams do come true.

We were allowed to stay up as long as we wanted, all night if we were able, to play with our newest possessions. We slept wherever we lay our head when we could no longer keep our eyes open. On Christmas morning we were awakened in time to get ready to go to church for Christmas mass, where we battled the urge to nod off. Then we would return home for a lunch of leftovers and a much needed nap. We would arise refreshed and re-energized for another day of play. That is how we spent our family Christmas.