Dear Readers,
I am posting an essay I wrote tonight about what Christmas means to me. I hope it brings you much joy and reflection on what the holidays mean to you.
Merry Christmas!
RR xo
Remember growing up? You had the curiosity of a cat, always venturing, always questioning...life was a grand adventure and every single day was a mystery to be unraveled, slowly. You loved it, didn’t you? Your little, precocious childlike spirit was always open to the wonder of the Universe, and you truly just let it come to you, one day at a time. Nothing was forced, but rather...RECEIVED...effortlessly.
Remember how simple Christmas was? Most of us didn’t come from a wealthy family, but we fully enjoyed the holidays, because even when money was tight, mom and dad made everything (somehow) seem so special and RICH with love and gifts from the heart.
In Southern, Ontario, I grew up the second born of four kids into a working class family. We didn’t have a ton of money, but we never starved. Sometimes mom got our clothes from the thrift store and nobody cared, because we still laughed, danced and played in style. We had friends who accepted us for who we were, and name brand tags on clothing didn’t affect us in the least bit. It was, after all, the ‘80s and the ‘90s...a time when life was freer than the commercial hype of today.
Christmas was always the sumptuous turkey dinner with all the trimmings...stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, yams, green beans, turnip, corn, hot buttery rolls fresh from the oven...we had mouth-watering, home-baked pies of blueberry, cherry and apple...and delicious vanilla ice cream. Not one person left the table without adjusting a couple notches on the belt buckle! Mom wouldn’t allow it. You were “stuffed to the gills” with all that food. After dinner, we relaxed by the fire and sipped her famous punch, which consisted of a 2 L bottle of 7-Up, a frozen can of orange juice and 1 L of cranberry juice. Just delicious! The other punch she made was a spiced one, eggnog, cinnamon and vanilla ice cream floating on top. My senses were on overload, reveling in all the wonderful scents and flavors of this holiday. I always felt like I was right in my glory.
Snowfall around this time could be abundant. I can recall the snowfall of December 1992 just east of Toronto, in my little village, population 1800. The amount of snow was so significant, the roads were completely bare of cars. You could walk down the middle of the street, and the eerie night time was like a ghost town, save for the glow of the street lamps on the wintry scenery. I loved walking in that winter wonderland! It was the closest to God I’ve ever gotten.
Music in the home was played on the record player, and it was always Amy Grant “A Christmas Album” from 1985, which was by the way, absolutely fantastic! Then there was Burl Ives’ “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” and Mariah Carey’s 1994 masterpiece “Merry Christmas.” So many tender moments of holidays gone by are now flooding my heart as I write this. We always had a white christmas, and went sledding with friends (we had a huge yard and a massive ditch that sloped down -- perfect for tobaganning or the GT snow racer!
Movies viewed every single Christmas Eve on CBC were the classics. First, we’d watch 1949 Little Women, starring June Allyson, Elizabeth Taylor, Margaret O’Brien and Janet Leigh. Right after this, was the 1944 film “Meet Me in St Louis,” starring Judy Garland. On Christmas Day, CBC always aired the 1985 classic “Anne of Green Gables” and I was in absolute heaven, pretending I was Megan Follows as Anne Shirley. She was the first one to make me wish I had red hair! Back then, the holidays were absolutely fun-filled and unforgettable. For once, I’d like to go back in a time machine and relive it. We’d gorge out on ripple potato chips, mom’s homemade french onion dip and a Pepsi. That night, we were allowed to open one present, and it was always a teaser, because even though it was welcomed, we always knew it was not the ultimate one we’d begged Santa for. Mom was always doing her home baking, and the entire kitchen table and counters were covered in flour and confectioner’s sugar. She’d make shortbread cookies, chocolate macaroons, peanut butter marshmallow squares, honeymoon squares, and Nanaimo bars.
My point is...life was a big adventure and the joys we shared were not related to money. Sure, it took money to get the baking supplies and buy the presents, but if we’d been forced to resort to making homemade gifts for Christmas, it would all be received with just as much love and gratitude as any other present would be.
What the holidays mean to me? Peace, love and joy. Lots of food, a barrel of laughs, the company of my favorite people...and just being fully PRESENT in the moment. You see, it’s not about the mountain of gifts or the price tag on the items you get. Christmas was always about the warmth of the fire, watching movies with family and having treats. Our stockings were filled with toiletries, soap, toothpaste and shower gel, a candy cane, a chocolate bar, and that shiny clementine at the bottom.
On Christmas Eve, we had a nutcracker and mom would place a huge glass dish of assorted nuts on the coffee table, so we could crack walnut shells and eat them while watching our favorite seasonal film. I fondly remember those days, and they bring a tear to my ear, because it seems so long ago!
What the Christmas holidays mean to me...just loving those people you love. Showing them what they mean to you, without expecting some monetary thing in return. That’s what I’ll hold close to me as the years go by and my hair turns grey. That’s what truly counts. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Rochelle Renee- Dec 7th, 2019.
6:47 p.m.
