Christmas is about making memories
- Scott Daniels: We Ate Well and Cheaply
- December 23, 2023
- 633
Like just about everything in the world, Christmas has changed drastically since my childhood. I have wonderful, warm memories of holidays with family when I was a kid.
Looking back, I wonder how we made life work then, without cellphones and instant information. The big retailer Christmas catalogs that came in the mail every year were dog eared by the first of December at my house. I pored over the hundreds of pages of color illustrations, dreaming up a fantasy life in which Santa brought the perfect slotted race car set, a new bike, a BB gun, some swell cowboy boots and new pajamas.
I don’t remember my family ever ordering a single thing from those catalogs; they got everything from area stores. It’s much like having a lottery ticket in hand before the drawing — up until the numbers are pulled, the ticket represents dreams of untold wealth and all that could be done with it. After, it’s just another piece of paper that has unapologetically stolen your imaginary perfected life.
Up until Christmas morning, the thick catalogs opened a door to magic and piles of heaped-up extravagant treasure. Once the packages were opened, you had to return to Earth with some new socks and the board game you got that was somehow not the right thing even though you clearly highlighted the right one and left it on the kitchen table in plain view.
Here in the future, a full catalog for every store on Earth is in our pockets. We needn’t tear out an order form, write down item numbers and write a check. We just let our device see our face, and our order is complete.
I am enormously grateful for those years before this electronic future arrived, even though some of it was scary in retrospect. I’d rather have my kidneys shaved than talk on the phone now, but we must have done it an awful lot then, even though we were charged by the minute. I cannot imagine any scenario where I would answer the phone today without being fairly certain who was calling. How did we do that day after day without a thought? We must have gotten ourselves into a lot of unwanted conversations.
I remember the quiet thrill of pulling out the one album of Christmas music we had once the day got close. It occupied a spot at the far end of the record cabinet, slid in beside the Flip Wilson comedy album we never listened to. The music from those records still means Christmas to me, and I still make sure to listen to all of it every year.
There was the Christmas Eve ride to my grandparents’ house, or maybe my older sister’s. We would take the long way so we could check out all the decorated houses. There were always a few that were outstanding, with full herds of reindeer and plastic lighted snowmen. It seemed like just about everyone covered their front door with a paper decoration, either Santa or some kind of snowy scene, with everything but the doorknob hidden.
Christmas Eve was when we exchanged family gifts after going to church if my folks felt churchy. There were all kinds of foods that only appeared that night, like Mom’s little piggy sausages in ketchup and grape jelly or the corned beef spread smeared in hot dog buns, wrapped in foil and baked. There was ham for the grown-ups and hot dogs for the children, and I can still smell all of it. The adults drank whiskey sours only that night each year, and we all told the story of our little Pomeranian that lapped up someone’s unguarded drink and slept until Easter.
As is said again and again and is absolutely true, Christmas is about making memories. The good things we remember carry us through the years when it seems there isn’t much worth storing away in our brains. If you sit down and quiet your mind, you can summon it all up again, and it’s delicious.
Merry Christmas to you and your family. Your readership is a gift for which I am very grateful.