The Holidays – Reassurance and Warning

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven”
Ecclesiastes 3:1

D. J. Tice is one of the Star Tribune’s best writers, in my opinion. One of the supports for my conclusion is that I often applaud him for correctly getting to the gist of some social or political conundrum and the next week (or sometimes even in the same article) I am raging at how he could get it so wrong. He satisfies my need for balance, even when I don’t agree with him. Tice recently republished an essay entitled “The Sobering Splendors of Autumn”. The physical observations that form the basis of his observations are the arrival and departure of autumn in Southern Minnesota. I am very tied to this part of God’s good earth, so it was no surprise that the essay captured me. I encourage all of you who are “of a certain age” as I am to find and read the article. One of the themes is that the arrival and passage of autumn is reassuring and yet troubling.

It is with that backdrop that I have been mulling over my emotions in the season following autumn, especially the holiday part of that season. Oh, how the pleasant memories can flood back to me. How reassuring they can be that I really understood the season, once. The experiences of the first years of my life wield a disproportionate influence on the way that I see the world. Some of those memories are so far away and yet so clear….

• Sometime in the later days of October, Sears, Montgomery Ward and J.C. Penney would send out their Christmas catalogues. We would pore over them strategizing and dreaming of which of the items we might find under our Christmas tree. We would casually mention to our parents which items we thought were the best. Those wish books would be very dog-eared by December 24.
• We were NEVER hungry in our family. There was always plenty of good nutritious food in our home. But the holiday seasons raised this part of our lives to new heights. There was SO MUCH great food. Of course, there was the scrumptious Christmas Dinner, with turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, vegetables, cranberry salad, pies and much more. But the season also brought treats that were not part of our usual fare – candy and even soft drinks or as we used to call it “pop”. On the last day of school before Christmas vacation, our bus drivers would issue each child a large bag of candy. In the interest of providing healthy food there would be apples in each bag, but we were not really interested in them, we went for the good stuff.
• Somewhere in the days immediately before Christmas Eve, my mom would break down and visit Gordy’s Super Value or Al’s Clover Farm Market to buy our Christmas tree. She was not one to splurge on one of those artificial trees or to EVER pay full price for a real tree. If you waited until the last minute, apparently Gordy and Al would mark down some of the last trees on the lot. This often led to trees that were a little on the small and thin side, but we made up for that with lots of homemade decorations (those store-bought ones cost a lot of money).
• In our little town and ESPECIALLY in our little family, cooperatives were a thing. If there was a coop in Rushmore that sold it, then that is where we bought it. And there WERE coops there – a coop grain elevator, a coop fuel and fertilizer provider and even a cooperative lumber yard. Each year the coops would freely dispense small Christmas gifts to their patrons. These might be a ball point pen or a calendar or some decoration for the home that my mother would proudly display. The Farmers Coop Lumber company donated a large Christmas tree to each of the four churches in the town. I vividly remember happily decorating them with the other youngsters from our church.
• Santa would arrive in our little town (sponsored by the Rushmore Boosters) on the last Saturday before Christmas. He would move down Main Street dispensing large bags of candy to all who could reach him or his helpers. Weather permitting, he would be on a sleigh. We never questioned why it was pulled by horses instead of reindeer – apparently the Boosters were unable to corral the necessary number of reindeer. In the non-white Christmases Santa would be ensconced in the back of the pickup from Roy Moss Feeds. For us, Santa’s arrival followed our last practice session for the annual Christmas Eve youth pageant, or as we called it “The Christmas Program”.
• The Christmas Program was no small undertaking for the ladies of the church. There were costumes to be sewn, dramas to be written and songs to be taught. Each of us would be issued small pieces of paper with our parts typewritten on them. These were referred to as our “pieces” and NEVER were our pieces to be read, but instead memorized and recited. Failure to correctly recite them at the appropriate time on Christmas Eve, thus requiring a “prompt” from one of our frustrated teachers, could move you dangerously close to the naughty list. But with or without prompts, each of us were issued yet another bag of candy at the end of the Christmas Program.
• Preparation for Christmas Eve was no small task for my mother either. For oftentimes she was saddled with preparing our costumes for the Program. There was the Christmas shopping for no less than six children. And no self-respecting mother of that time and place would allow our public school and Sunday School teachers to not receive a gift from us. And on top of all of this, each of us would be wearing a new Christmas outfit to the church service on Christmas Day. My recollection is that most years my outfit would include a very itchy, new wool sweater. As the years have gone by and I gained more knowledge of my family’s tenuous financial position in those years, it amazes me how they pulled all of this off.
• The sounds, the smells, the warmth, the atmosphere in the darkened sanctuary of our little church on Christmas Eve are still so real to me. All of those in the world that I loved were there, with me, sharing in that joyful time. And all felt right with the world.

There are many more memories but of course, all those events, even my colorized, idealized versions of them, happened at one place in one time. They can never be replicated. Even the wonderful memories of Christmases with our own children are just that, memories. My Mother and Dad are gone as are nearly all the wonderful people in our little church and in our little town. So, while I look back with warmth at the wonderful memories, I am also mindful that we only get so many Christmases on this earth. Yes, Christmas this year may yield many more good memories. What a blast it is to watch our grandchildren shriek with laughter and anticipation of their gifts from Santa.

But just like the coming and passing of autumn is a reassurance and a warning, so is the coming and passing of the Holiday Season. Yes, the Christmas Season is reassuring. It is coming this year just as it has always come. But it is also a warning. How bitter would be the memory of a gift un-given, an embrace not captured, a love not expressed. What an inspiration it should be to open the floodgates of our generosity and our love. THESE are the good old days. Make the most of them, do not hold back. They are finite in number.

May you collect a treasure trove of great memories this holiday season. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!