When I was 12 years old, if you had asked me, "What is the best day of the year?" the answer, hands down, would have been "Christmas Eve!" Something happened on Christmas Eve that didn't happen any other day of the year: a day with Daddy.
My father was a skilled craftsman--a tool and die maker--in a machine shop. Certainly in that era, and judging from the few people I saw on the Metro with me this morning, maybe even now, people working in a machine shop didn't get Christmas Eve as a holiday. At what I am sure was significant financial sacrifice to our family, Daddy chose to spend the day with his children.
We lived in the Midwest. It was always cold and often snowy. On Christmas Eve, Daddy, my brother and I bundled up and headed out to have breakfast in a restaurant. I am not sure if it was the era or our socioeconomic class, or a combination of both, but eating out was a real treat, especially for breakfast. And, we lingered over our food, Daddy really engaged with us, listening to our stories and kid jokes as if they were quite wonderful. We laughed...a lot.
At some point, we would head downtown, where the department stores had extravagant window displays, each covering the equivalent of two city blocks. Our noses pressed against the windows in amazement.
By this point, filled with Christmas magic we'd go in the department store, where a special department had been created just for kids to shop for their parents. We were given a small amount of money, and we would disappear behind a temporary wall where I felt a sense of independence and power otherwise unknown to me. Five dollars burning my hand, and I got to make the decision myself.
The last stop before heading home exhausted were presents for our two dogs.
After a nap and dinner, the whole family loaded into the car to go to Christmas Eve service. I always liked going to church, but we were usually there in the daytime. Christmas Eve the darkened church was lighted by candles and graced by flowers. I thought it was the prettiest the church looked all year.
With a few more years on me, I figured out what was probably going on. Daddy was getting the kids out of the house so that Mother could wrap presents and make food, but no amount of intellectualizing Christmas Eve would make it less wonderful. This morning when I got up and turned the lights on the Christmas tree, I felt all warm inside, just thinking about Christmas Eve...and when I am 100, I'll probably do the same.
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