The time of year is upon us. The Americans are digesting their celebratory feast, and just like the shoemaking elves of the Brothers Grimm, our malls are transformed overnight into a Winter Wonderland. The muzak plays like the din of an aircraft engine. If you removed your focus for but a moment, you would be gently lulled to sleep. The din is actually the sound of the merchanding machine, it has come to life.
This is always an odd time of year for me. I've always loved Christmas, but as with all of us it has changed over the years. Our first true experience in adulthood and the sham and drudgery that exists, is when our parents sit us down and share their clever deception with us. Some people remember where they were when Lennon was shot, I remember where I was when Santa Claus died.
To again reflect on my simple pleasures, there is nothing like the face of a child on Christmas morning, the joy, the expectations. If there is one true element in my life that I miss, it is the element of surprise. Everything and everyone just seems so damn predictable nowadays. I would love to be surprised again, but I just can't see it in the cards. Often over the years, I have dragged out the old 8mm projector and relived the Christmas' past. There isn't any sound, but the expressions say it all. We had a sunken living room in my house when I was a child, on Christmas morning it always looked like one of those ball rooms the kids play in today. I would think I could dive off the top of the stairs and swim the breaststroke through my gifts (and before we leave the subject, I fully intend to jump into one of those ball rooms some day). The footage of me standing at the top of those stairs is priceless. If they could have harnessed the joy and radiance of my face they could have powered a small town. The verociousness of how gifts were unwrapped was legendary, any adults in the vicinity had to be weary of unwanted packs of socks and underwear that were discarded with terminal velocity from beneath the tree. Funnily enough, when I reflect of those days (using my noggin' and not a projector) the thing I remember most is the smiles on my Grandparents faces.
I was read Santa's eulogy when I was 8. We were moving to Calgary, and in my fathers unmistakable style, he said he had to tell me the truth because he didn't want me to make an ass out of myself. My brother came into the kitchen where we were talking, and seeing that I was quite despondant decided to make fun of me. In my unmistakable style, I broke free from my fathers grip, tackled my brother, and pounded him until he had a bloodied nose. It may have seemed rash at the time, but at least I had time to reflect on Santa's demise when I spent the next week in my room.
That was the end of magical times. There used to be only two days that mattered to me back then, Christmas day, and the day that the Sears Wish Book arrived in the mail. I would spend hours pouring over the pages. Even my securities portfolio is not as well put together as my Christmas list used to be. If it was available to me back then, I would have had it in an attache' case handcuffed to my wrist.
Christmas' after that were always special to me, but never magical. My parents split up in 1992, and I vowed after that I would never spend any type of "occasion" with my family. No birthdays, no Thanksgiving, no Easter, and definately no Christmas.
I was always determined after that, I would make Christmas all that I wanted it to be. And every Christmas and Thanksgiving since, I have made the turkey dinner with all the fixin's. The only exception was 1998. I spent Christmas at Disneyland, the day was magical, but that had nothing to do with Christmas.
The first year I did it, Reno was still in his self imposed exile on his couch. I had enough food for 12 people, but it was only Reno and myself. I set up a couple of TV trays and popped in "To Kill a Mockingbird", I set the plate before Reno and sat down to eat myself. He seemed quite perplexed at first, but before long he was trying to lick the mashed potatoes of the end of his nose. I bought him this giant dinosaur bone and wrapped it up and gave it to him after dinner. For a brief moment, it looked like he had captured that "surprised" look I was talking about earlier, but within minutes it looked more like some stock footage from "Wild Kingdom."
The year after that, we were alone again but this time shared the coffee table. The movie du jour was "Moby Dick." It actually snowed that night and we headed out for a walk after dinner. We went up the creek beside the house where Reno saw a coon and decided to go for him forgetting that I was attached via leash. He jumped down a flight of concrete stairs that led down to the bridge that covered the creek. The stairs were iced and I went straight off, it was about a five foot drop. I cracked my head on the concrete and the goof continued to pull me across the ice until I was able to brace myself on the railing. I dragged him home, gave him his Dino bone and went to check myself out in the mirror. Reno's gift to me was a Fred Flintstone style bump on the top of my head.
After that year I decided not to spend it alone anymore and started the orphan dinners. There are always people that don't have family in town, so I figured why not have them over. I always ended up throwing out 3/4's of the food anyhow. Its was fun for a lot of years, but as i've learned, you really must have the right mix of people. I prefer it to be a "silent night", but often, others have different ideas, and the lights don't go out until 3. Little much for me nowadays. So it's time to start planning again. At least the pointsettias I left around the fireplace are starting to make sense now. Roman and I actually discussed leaving the tree up last year and making it a celebration tree. You know, footballs for Super Bowl, bunny's and eggs for Easter, stuff like that. But as usual, Laurie said we were a couple of idiots and that was the end of that. I'm supposed to be sitting by the pool at a house down in Cabo this year for Christmas, but for those of you that know me, my unpredicatble ways will probably ensure I will be sitting right here, trying once again to recreate the magic.
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