Memories of Christmas for me throughout the years have had special thoughts in an individual way. You see, I had problems sharing it with six other kids who more often than not invariably spoiled things whenever they could. Being the eldest kind of gave me free rein on 'first' things - like being the first to see mom and dad call themselves fooling us to believe that Santa really existed; and first to not fall asleep waiting for Christmas to come; and the first to ride the bicycle that had to be shared six different riding terms. Did I really believe in Santa Claus? I originally thought so until about seven years old when the cat was let out of the bag - literally! Back then one of the toys that Dad brought to place under the tree rolled out of his toy sack. From my vantage point under the stairs (which was a good hiding place) I had a perfect view. When I tell people that I remember verbatim what happened on that Christmas Eve they tend to look at me with jaundiced eyes, but I KNOW what I saw! I tried telling everybody that Daddy was really Santa Claus but quite a few people told me otherwise and several times I was threaten with whippings.
Then there was the matter of the Christmas tree. I hated that tree! Why? Because every time it would shed those needles guess who was summoned to clean them up? Yep, Me! I must admit though, that the best part of Christmas for me was always the bright lights and ornate displays. Mom and Dad used to take us all around town visiting neighborhoods oohing and aahing at how creative people were. What made this so fun was the fact that my Dad would round up all the other neighborhood kids and we'd make the rounds. This of course were during the times when there was a real village raising us, and Big Mamas had clout.
Yes, there were a few other things that made it memorable to think about how it was back in the day. I remember Union 5 roller skates, sweat shirts with our names sewn on the back and all of us skating in packs on real sidewalks in and around the tenement projects. I remember tangerines, pomegranates, egg nog (without the rum, darn it!), a bicycle built for seven, and fruit cake that I absolutely hated (even today!). Deep down inside I've always wondered what was all the hoopla was about...all I ever wanted was a good book and a warm space to crawl into.
Nowadays as the holidays approaches, I'm now reminded that things indeed are different and how children are STILL in suspense as to the who, what and why of it all. I must remember not to spoil it for the kids. To me, Christmas is not the same anymore. People change, times change, but the authenticity of this holiday is not celebrated right. Perhaps one day, unlike 50 years ago when I was seven the real reason for my season was getting to the bottom of the stairs just to get the jump on the rest of my siblings. In 2008, I'm smarter and spiritually aware that the birth of Jesus is being taught to my grandkids, and that Kwanzaa has significant meaning as a viable alternative to paganistic verve and commercial ill.
