Meaningful Merry Making

Christmastime was unpredictable when I was a kid. Santa brought a mixed bag to our celebrations every year. We took from it the AWE of Grammy Stern’s flaming Plum Pudding and pungent scent of pine boughs in her living room. We also pulled from his bag nervous tension that made the air as shatter-prone as Gramps’ favorite peanut brittle. We all feared that my dad would drink too much and cause a “scene.”  I had a tummy ache from November through January.

No case of terminal uniqueness here... I know so many people who spend December haunted by ghosts of holidays past.

My husband was raised in a culturally, but not religiously, Jewish home. Bless his generous heart, the very first time he bought a Christmas tree was for my other Grandma - Grammy Maxwell. We’d been married long enough for me to hear the story about how his first grade teacher humiliated him, intimidated his mother and left him with a bone-deep loathing and even hatred for all things related to Christmas. When he walked into my Grammy’s kitchen up in Victorville in 1974 with a small tree, popping corn and cranberries to string garlands for it and other delights to make a feast for his newly widowed Grandmother-in-law, I just cried for happy and hugged him as tightly as I could. What a selfless and generous act. We used the lid of a tin can to cut out a star and fastened it to the tip of the table-top tree. Grammy Maxwell was blind, but she could smell, hear and feel Christmas and it made her happy. 

As our two daughters grew old enough to be conscious of what holidays could mean, I set out to celebrate everything that made my heart sing. Latkes and lighting candles for eight nights made my heart sing; the scent of pine boughs (OK - they ASKED for a tree), mulled cider and a feast in the oven - all made my heart sing. The idea of celebrating the LIGHT at Solstice, the darkest time of the year, still makes my heart sing, and SINGING the songs of the season definitely makes me sing from my heart, though usually not entirely on key, because of the tearful lump in my throat.

What is it about the holidays that brings on melancholy? Is it that we used to celebrate with so many people who are no longer with us? Are we longing for something from our childhood, or some ideal of what we thought we had or would have liked to have had back then? Or is there lingering terror because holidays were traditionally a time to over-indulge and, when the adults in charge are intoxicated, the children are not safe?

Whatever the reason, this season can bring on gut-tightening angst, rather than the ease depicted in a Norman Rockwell portrait of loving kindness, bounty and grace. If I press my nose to the glass of that idealized scene I can still conjure a deep sense of longing and loss.

Now that our granddaughter is two and a half, her mama is trying to figure out these December celebrations in much the same way her dad and I did when she and her sister were little. I think “Cozy” is our daughter's version of my “what makes my heart sing.” Last week she had some friends with young ones over to her home and they cut snow-flakes out of paper, ate yummy treats, played and enjoyed good conversation. She reported that “That feels like Christmas to me; that's cozy.”


I love that our granddaughter is learning that for her family this season is more about enjoying people and fun activities than it is about getting things. I wish her folks the best of luck in keeping that sentiment alive. So, while I want to buy her the world, I'll curtail the urge to splurge and think instead of ways to create beautiful memories of times spent together simply enjoying the world we already have.

Whatever warms your heart is what I wish for you this season.

I invite us all to stop and register as many sense-awakeners as we possibly can. Smell the fir trees and yams or latkes and lentil soup. Make a joyful noise or listen to some great music. Notice the candles and twinkle lights doing their best to drive darkness from our homes and hearts. Really taste the eggnog or that jelly doughnut. Feel the cozy clothes on our skin that (hopefully) keep us warm enough when the cold winds are rude. Above all, let us find the meaning of the season that makes the most sense to us. We’re the only ones who know how this time of year is supposed to feel. Let's go for it. Own it and share the joy.