December 1st - The Season is Here!

I'm sitting at the kitchen table, resting after my early morning chores. The house is empty, sans Johnny Mathis and an assortment of other artists singing Christmas music via the stereo. It is December 1st and this is the time of year, the Holiday Season, where I become melancholy and reflective of years gone by and wonder how it all happened so quickly. My thoughts (some of them coherent) always turn to my parents and the wonderful life they provided for our family. Our Christmas season was one of religious etiquette. At my Catholic school, we collected pennies in a miniature stocking that my mom would sew together. We would proudly deposit our savings into a basket during mass.

A month before Christmas, our church would hang a magnificent wreath horizontally from the ceiling and adorn it with four large candles. As each week passed toward the birth of Jesus, a candle was lit. While the candles signified the approach of that blessed event, it was a tangible, visual count down for Christmas day. The day that Santa Claus would visit our house to leave Barbie Dolls, Chatty Cathy, GI Joe and many toys by Mattel and Minnetonka.

My mom was in the Adult Choir and my brother and I were in the Boy's Choir. On Christmas Eve, we sang at midnight mass. It was an impressive production of pageantry and music while steeped in ancient Catholic tradition. The organ music filled the church and trumpets accompanied the Christmas songs. Afterwards, we left the church and stepped out into the frigid Minnesota morning. A million stars adorned the early sky and we blew imaginary smoke from our frozen breath.

In my memories, the snow was deeper and the winter months lasted forever. Whenever I return to Minnesota for a visit, no matter what time of the year, I can still envision massive snow drifts in front of our house where we would build snow forts or dig tunnels. Max, our wonder dog, loved to chase the snowballs we would throw. She would run to where the snowball fell and with a mighty leap, she would bury her snout deep into the snow and flick it into the air.

But my memories also return to my time as a dad. When it came time to buy our first house, an absolute necessity was a fireplace. I have always associated fireplaces with Christmas and wanted to create a Norman Rockwell Christmas atmosphere for Brian, Jenna and Meghan. I loved decorating the house inside and out. Stockings were hung over the fireplace with colored lights and little Christmas nick knacks. And of course, there was the music. One year I apparently was pushing the season a little too much and began to play Christmas music in August.

As Brian got older, he insisted on the biggest tree that would fit in the house. The bigger the better. While we had traditional Christmas ornaments, we also decorated the tree with photos of the kids or with ornaments they had made in school. I still have a few tucked away in my Christmas boxes. Brian has carried his tradition of a large tree with him as he raises a family of his own. His house has a cathedral ceiling and every year he picks the most beautiful and glorious tree he can find. It is decorated to picture perfect quality and I’m sure that even Santa is impressed.

I fervently pray that my children have pleasant memories of Christmas and will make wonderful memories for their own children some day.

Well, Nat King Cole is taking his turn in the house. I suppose I should make good use of the day and start running errands. I just felt the need to write. It is, after all, Christmas season. I hope you all have wonderful memories of this time of year, but if you don’t, I pray you make some wonderful memories for yourself and your family. Merry Christmas, everyone.