The day after Halloween, it started: the Halloween candy replaced with red, green and silver wrapped Hershey kisses and red and green M & Ms. Not long after that an occasional carol. By the second week of November the cable channels were playing Christmas movies.
For much of my life, I was the Christmas-Crazy kid. I delighted in finding just the perfect gift for each special person in my life, and I could hardly wait to make Christmas cookies. Planning and cooking for a large holiday open house was a highlight of the season, and I had reduced decorating to a fine art. A former dance partner started playing carols non-stop at Thanksgiving, and we knew every word to every song and belted them out at the tops of our lungs as we drove down the highway.
The whole season was special, but the most special was Christmas Eve. I always planned a special dinner, and I could hardly wait to see loved ones open the special gifts I'd carefully shopped for. I am certain that I was more excited to see the joy in their eyes than any anticipation I had about my own gifts. Finally, the evening would be topped off with midnight church service and carol singing. A little snow was always nice, but truthfully, since I spent half of my adult life in Oregon, rain was more likely.
That Christmas-Crazy Kid was truly like a kid...even though I'd 40. There was something triggere inside me that was like being 8 or 9 again...year after year after year. My parents did a really good job at being Santa, so much so that I was the only kid in my fourth grade class who still believed. The moment that even a hint of the season approached, I was transported back in time.
I am not sure how or why I lost that kid, and I am not sure that I fully acknowledged that until I hrrmphed at the sight of those red, green and silver Hershey kisses on November 1. Some would say that it is the normal aging process, but I don't believe that. I think the magic of Christmas lies in delighting those around us, whether with specially sought gifts, lovingly prepared foods, or Christmas decorations unwrapped year after year, each with a memory attached.
Maybe it is the pace of life. Taking time to really know people well enough to actually be able to find the perfect gift appears to be a figment of the past, and often an obligatory gift card fulfilling a duty substitutes for the loving care that was once an important part of Christmas shopping. I have to say that until I started writing this post that I'd flirted with not even getting a tree this year, and that seems like waving the flag of surrender to my inner humbug. And I won't give in to this creeping...creeping...what?
Thirty years ago there was a movie called "The Neverending Story--Part I." In the fantasy, a young boy named Bastion is charged with stopping "the great Nothing," a force taking over the world. Wikipedia describes The Nothing as "human apathy, cynicism, and the denial of childish dreams." The Nothing occurs when we lose our capacity to feel. Imagination through the power of wishing is the only thing that can overcome The Nothing.
Somewhere, somehow, I think the Nothing stole the Christmas-Crazy Kid from me. I need Bastian's help...fast...I am in danger of losing the Kid in me. My childish dreams kept the spirit of Christmas alive inside of me. After all, isn't that a big part of what Christmas is all about: finding the kid inside each of us.
I have some serious work to do over the next week when the traditional Christmas season starts at Thanksgiving. The serious work is to find my childish dreams and imagination. I wish, I wish, I wish...Bastion, I need your help...!
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