‘Tis the season of lights, colors, glitter and sparkles. Christmas is a feast for the senses and I’ve always enjoyed every aspect of this holiday since I was a little kid. And snow.  Snow is an essential part of this holiday, right? I just cannot get in the full holiday spirit until the white stuff has every brown lawn and dirty roadway covered with its sparkling powder. Then it becomes Christmas to me.

 

Of course, just days after the Christmas and New Year’s holidays I’m ready for the white stuff to melt into obscurity.

 

We didn’t seem to have any problems with “brown” Christmases when I was younger — or at least I don’t remember any. I remember going skating at the rink, making snowmen in the yards and going sledding at the park during our Christmas breaks from school. Maybe Mother Nature realizes that most kids tend to not get out and enjoy nature’s beauty and splendor nowadays so she just doesn’t put much effort in the whole thing anymore?

 

Hmmm. I think I may be on to something.

 

I also remember the family gatherings we had on Christmas Eve where all my brothers and sisters, their kids and some family friends would gather at 5258 Oliver Ave. No. for some good grub, some games, plenty of socializing and the waiting for Santa Claus to appear then disappear like he was a genie from a magic lamp.

 

(We didn’t have a fireplace, so the jolly old elf would have to carry his goodies from his sleigh down to the ground and enter and exit our dwelling from the front door.)

 

I also remember the year my dad came home with a purple flocked Christmas tree. None of us knew why our dear old dad would choose such a novelty, but maybe he was inspired by the Viking’s play that previous Sunday?

 

Well wouldn’t you know it, Mom was not too thrilled with the atrocious conifer my dad dragged in to the house. She made him go out and get another tree and for the first time in our household, we had a beautiful white-flocked Christmas tree in the living room and a purple-flocked Christmas tree in the dining room.

 

Ah, the senses of Christmas.

 

We kids were confused as we charted and mapped out the best spots to be the first to grab and rip open our presents. But under which tree? It didn’t take anyone too long to see the purple one was going to be the Charlie Brown tree, scorned and ridiculed by everyone except my dad — our Charlie Brown.

 

He tried to decorate that fir tree, but just like Charlie Brown, the tree didn’t really take to it. Needless to say, the family spent most of that evening in the living room.

 

I can almost smell the stockings we hung out at Christmas and the loads of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Hershey’s Chocolate and peppermint candy canes. I remember the whiffs of fresh bread and the aromas of the dozens of cookies my mom slaved in the kitchen to make.

 

I remember the gold-painted Reader’s Digests folded to look like cylindrical Christmas trees. I remember window clings and the melted plastic popcorn Santas, reindeer and snowmen. I remember the train sets, the Hot Wheels and the electronic football games.

 

I remember the songs like White Christmas, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas and the Drummer Boy playing in the background of our family events. And I remember the sit-coms and programs that aired Christmas specials on Family Affair,  The Partridge Family and the Waltons.

 

And I remember many of my childhood gifts including Action Jackson, a skateboard, football and baseball cards and an artist’s easel and paint set.

 

The memories. They sure stir up the senses of Christmas.

 

Merry Christmas everyone!