My husband always laughs at me at this time of the year. He grew up not being big on Christmas, which meant not a whole lot of Christmas music. This is unfathomable to me. In my house Christmas was always a big deal and my parents went all out for the holidays which meant my brothers and I got to reap the rewards.
There is one Christmas I remember vividly. It was actually before Christmas, but it was our trip to get our Christmas tree. There was a local place called, Frank’s Nursery. I close my eyes and see myself, and my brother, standing in the store; and over the speakers you could hear Perry Como crooning, “Silver Bells.” Ugh. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. That memory is so vivid and so real. Even these 30 odd years later.
Do you ever hear people complain about how Christmas merchandise gets pushed out earlier and earlier every year? I admit, I used to be one of those complainers. Last year, I realized something else. What if instead of it being about consumerism, it was about trying to become little again. What if it’s about trying to recapture those warm holiday feelings we had as a child?
Just for once being able to feel the way we did when someone else took care of us. When someone else bought our toys and helped as we put them together? When we spent Christmas Eve staring out at the night sky in hopes of a glimpse of Santa and Rudolph? What about that feeling of trying to stay up and rousing ourselves at every noise? OR how about going in and waking your sibling before the sun is even up because you can’t sleep anymore?
I, for one, start playing Christmas music in August. It brings me a sense of calm and rightness with the world. It reminds me when it’s hot outside, which I detest, that good things are on their way. That pretty soon I’ll be preparing for Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, and then New Years.
Now, it’s time for me to prepare dinner, and I need to queue up, “The Carpenter’s Christmas” album.