When
I was little Christmas lasted precisely one day. December 25th.
That was it. All that junk leading up to it, like the decorations in the
stores, the tree in our house, Grandpa's elaborate model train platform were just so
many torturous incidentals designed to make us kids suffer with
hyper-anticipation as we waited for that all important morning when we'd run
down the stairs to attack the bounty that Santa had provided. Once
midnight struck to usher in December 26th the big people might as well have packed
away every last ornament and festive doo-dad back into its box and carted the
whole mess back into the attic where it lived throughout the rest of the year.
Because Christmas, as it was to my small brain back then, was OVER!
Finis! Kaput! DONE! Once the
presents were out in the open, that was IT – all there was to it.
I’m
not entirely sure when my childish somewhat Scrooge-like view of Christmas got
turned upside down but it was sometime between when my daughters were born and
now though I couldn’t put a year on it.
It was a gradual realization in spite of the, “Jesus is the reason for
the season,” stuff that I’d known at least on a cerebral level since I was able
to talk and repeat the Bible stories I’d been told over and over. It was as if my Grinchy heart grew a little
year after year somehow until it was so very easy to look beyond what was
wrapped up in gaily decorated packages with my name on them to the joy of the
season manifested in all different sorts of ways as it was radiated from the
faces of those whom I love.
Now,
thank God, when gifts are being exchanged and opened I’m so often beaming and
enjoying taking pictures as I’m watching everybody opening their spoils that I
have to be encouraged with a, “Dad!
Open something!” before pulling on the end of a bow of a present on my
pile. And, I suppose I thank God too
that in some ways it took me so long to grow up (well, in most respects) on the
inside even though there was some sacrifice to be made in experiencing the
“magic” of Christmas along the way of becoming a grown-up.
Anyway,
here I am on the 27th of December and it’s STILL Christmas! It will be for as long as I want it to be –
until I finally resign myself to admitting that it’s high time for the
Christmas tree to come down. It might have
been in early March once, at my worst, but there isn’t a night while it’s up
when I don’t spend a little time just staring at those lights and baubles with
the same childlike wonder with which I studied them when I was four years old
and nearly burst from the anticipation of the big day’s arrival. And there isn't a year when I don't spill a tear or two on the final night of the tree being up when I light the lights for the last time and pray fervently as my Daddy did every year at our traditional Christmas Eve dinner, "Please, Lord, may we all be here again next year," knowing all too well that while all prayers are answered, the answer isn't always the one we want.
Okay,
time for the scooter stuff... I was out
today riding around just for the fun of it because the air’s still relatively
warm and I’m taking advantage of the chance to ride at every opportunity. I headed to the county park where I sort of
officially herald the arrival of spring each year when the gates which close
off access to it are opened after being locked annually at the start of winter's fury. Imagine my great delight when
I discovered that the gates are still open!
They’re usually closed up tight in late October or sometime at the very
latest in November most years, but there they were today just as open as the
pearly gates are to the righteous!
And
although I wore a jacket over my tee shirt and flannel while I was riding, it
was perfectly comfortable to be without it as I posed beside the scooter near
the tables from which I write to the blog outdoors at times when it’s suitable
to do so.
On
the way back to the house I passed by a Christmas (???) display for which I had
to do a quick U-turn to get some pictures of it. It’s exactly the sort of thing I would do if I had the resources
for no other reason than to score the kind of reaction that I had to it in
passers by.
A
clearer view without me in the shot, followed by a detail portion.
And
there it is, folks! Christmas goes on
whether in a traditional way or in the avant-garde.
Because
of a death in a family amid my circle of friends I’ll be away from the 29th
through New Year’s Day, only to get home in time to pack for a week long trip
that will have me visiting friends and loved ones from the 3rd
through the 10th of January.
If I don’t check in here till after then, I’ll see you when I get back
no doubt with some pictures and tales to share.
1 comment:
Just as I hoped Christmas Day was warm enough to take out Sara's motorcycle for a ride. It was just a short run down to the gas station to fill the tank with non-ethanol Premium. Hopefully this little preparation will have it starting without complaint in the Spring. It always is bittersweet riding it and preparing it for another season knowing the original owner won't be using it. Still I can't help looking at it and remembering the fun she had with it. I know she was along for the ride probably going, "Is this all you've got. More throttle."
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