It’s almost Christmas, so naturally thoughts drift back to Christmases of yesteryear and no Christmas memories are better than those of childhood. Christmas was still magical then. It was eagerly anticipated, and as the days grew nearer, the hours grew longer. My family opened our presents on Christmas Eve, we still do, and therefore Christmas Eve was measured in hours, minutes and seconds from the moment we awoke on Christmas Eve morning.
Trying to stay busy and make the time go by faster was a fruitless endeavor. It didn’t matter what we did: playing card games, board games, make-believe – yes all this in a time before video games and the Internet, did little to ease the anticipation. We even tried to take a nap, hoping that we would instantly fall asleep and awake 8 hours later to Christmas Eve dinner and then the opening of our presents. But we never slept a wink. Laying there in the quiet, every second of every minute mocked us with each tick. It was too much. But finally, after the long wait, the shadows of the trees began to grow longer through my bedroom windows and faint sunset would signal the time had almost arrived.
All the while, through our waiting, the smell of turkey filled the house. My mom would be busy cooking a special feast in the kitchen, while cleaning the house and making everything looked just right. My dad was usually out buying last minute gifts and sneaking them through the garage.
We always thought dinner was just another way for our parents to prolong the agony. My two older brothers and I couldn’t have been less interested in eating, than if we had just stepped off a Kennedy Space Station G-Force simulator exercise. Our stomachs turned with excitement and I can still remember the grins on my parent’s faces while we sat around the table. They knew they were torturing us.
To make matters worse, we all had to take Christmas Eve baths before opening our gifts. My brothers shared a tub in one bathroom while I was in the other and somewhere in the middle of our hurried scrubbing, we heard the front door open, the stomps of boots in the living room and a loud “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa Claus had came while we were taking our Christmas baths. It was really ingenious on my parent’s part. We truly thought Santa Claus had stopped by and placed some new gifts under the tree, that we hadn’t had the chance to pick up, analyze, weigh, shake, feel or sense the psychic vibes of the gifts beneath the wrapping paper.
My parents taped every Christmas on 8-Track cassettes. We still have them and they’re a treasure to listen to now. -I think the audio is even better than video because all the memories come flooding back into my mind, instead of just a snapshot or two in time captured on film. Just listening to my parents, with much younger voices, my brothers before puberty and me asking in a small voice, “This is all I got?”, brings back wonderful family memories. I remember finally going to bed after such a long day with my beloved gifts tucked securely by. It was truly pure magic and perfection. Life simply doesn’t get any better.
Merry Christmas everyone!


