Posts Tagged ‘Memories’
It Looks Different From Here
Things aren’t the same for me as they used to be. I’m the same guy, but the way I saw Christmas as a kid is completely different than the way I see it now. When I became a parent and had the opportunity to establish Christmas memories for my kids, I don’t know that I had a distinct awareness of the situation. I don’t recall overtly nurturing for my children, what my childhood experience had been. Now, from the added perspective of having my children grown and out of the house, I think I’ve become more like Scrooge than ever before. First, I complained that it was too soon to start decorating and advertising the holiday. Next, the focus of it all has become way too materialistic. Yet still, I harbor the greatest memories of the Christmases of my youth.
Memories like the wall covered with Christmas cards and children’s artwork, which is only a memory because of a slide photo my father took. The trees, tall enough to reach the ceiling. The project of decorating the trees, particularly the lead tinsel my sister, Judy, mentioned. The year we put our name in lights –at first it said, “Ho Ho” but for a short time was modified to “Hays”. The morning my father had me easily convinced that he just heard reindeer activity on the roof, moments before we made our first appearance, Christmas morning. He was so sincere, I fell for it, hook-line-sinker. …The time my siblings fooled me by taping the record album to the cover of the box I opened, so I found nothing but tissue paper in the box below. …Andy Williams and Bing Crosby Christmas albums.
It occurs to me that regardless my miserly personal opinions of late, about this holiday, I might want to cut others a reasonable amount of slack, especially kids. I think kids today deserve to feel just as excited about all things Christmas related, as I ever did. They don’t know it’s coming earlier, or been co-opted by the retail juggernaut and broadcast media. Why, it’s as if I have been visited by the ghosts of Christmas, past, present & future. Let’s enjoy chestnuts roasting on an open fire.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
Remember Anytime
It may be the contrarian aspect of my character, but for no obvious reason –say maybe a birthday, anniversary, or Mother’s Day– I find myself thinking about Mom today. Not just a passing thought, but a really robust feeling of closeness to everything that comes to mind when I think about her. And it’s all wonderful. I can think of a variety of potential triggers that likely combined to bring this on, not the least of which involves Thanksgiving and Christmas memories of childhood. So, for no other reason than today is the second day of December, I am claiming this a valid day to celebrate the memory of my wonderful mother, Betty.
A Thanksgiving Memory
I can’t help falling into my usual cynical attitude about a holiday that celebrates this country’s good fortune of decimating the tribes of original nations living here and building massive wealth and success on the backs of immigrants, many, if not most, of whom were mistreated as slaves. At the same time, I have nothing but fond memories of this day of family, friends, power lounging, game playing, football watching, over-eating, Christmas-season launching fun.
I particularly recall a neighborhood football game when I was a young teenager. We often played games with whomever was available, usually with limited success on adequate numbers. On this day, not only did we have plenty of players available, since it was a holiday, we even had spectators showing up to watch us. It was the absolute best! Until I got hurt. I don’t recall the exact mechanism of injury, but I bruised my tailbone something awful. At the time, I figured something might be broken. I cried. That is brutal for a teen boy to do in front of such a big audience. As I gingerly walked off the neighbor’s yard, headed for home, my sister, Linda, took a photograph of me that captured the moment, eventually helping sear it in my mind evermore.
That moment is closely followed by a vivid recollection of trying to sit at the dinner table on the hard chair for the traditional Thanksgiving feast. It required a pillow. For some reason, the second memory is a view outside of myself, seeing me try to sit down on the chair. I understand why I might remember how I looked walking off the neighbor’s yard because of the photo, but I find it curious that I have remembered the image of trying to sit down on that chair from a similar vantage point, instead of from within as I experienced it.
This year, I am thankful for all the blessings I am able to enjoy, and I continue to regret that it comes at the expense of others less fortunate than I. It’s as if our society is just another variation of a Ponzi scheme. It’s no wonder that I have always loved and hated this holiday at the same time.
Look at that! I can’t commit to one feeling or the other and a story about my ass hurting, all in one post.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Relative Something 