DREAMING OF A NICE CHRISTMAS
Holiday holds warm and special memories even for a Jewish man
With the possible exception of Irving Berlin, no Jew has ever loved Christmas more than I.
Born Israel Beilin in Imperial Russia, Berlin could only dream of a White Christmas from his home in sunny California.
I get to live it in Montreal, where we take snowy Christmases for granted.
Andy Williams nailed it: Christmas is “the most wonderful time of the year.”
Of course, neither Berlin nor Williams had to celebrate Christmas during a pandemic. But I'm determined to enjoy my favourite holiday by whatever means I can muster.
Regardless of current circumstances, there will always be Christmas memories. And I'm lucky to have some great ones.
The holiday season was always fun in elementary school, where our drab classrooms were brightened with holiday decorations we'd crafted.
There was no Christmas tree for me at home. The holiday spirit was conveyed through television, which did a good job of it.
This was the 1950s. A Charlie Brown Christmas, with its festive Vince Guaraldi musical score, didn't make its December debut until 1965.
But we had Miracle on 34th Street. Released in 1947, the year before I was born, the movie stars Edmund Gwenn as Kris Kringle, working the holiday season as Santa Claus at Macy's department store in Manhattan.
Natalie Wood played Susan Walker, the little girl whose mother (played by Maureen
Titled The Mill in the Forest, the elaborate decoration featured small animals celebrating Christmas in a festive village. The moving parts were magical and drew crowds of parents and their enchanted children. Mike Boone
O'hara) raised her not to believe in Santa. If you've seen the blackand-white original — still my favourite — or any of the several remakes, you know what ensued.
I can't remember whether the movie had me believing in Santa Claus. But Miracle on 34th Street imbued this non-christian with a love of the holiday season.
And the appreciation was enhanced, in subsequent years, by a couple of Montreal Christmas traditions: the Santa Claus Parade and the Ogilvy's window.
The parade drew huge crowds to Ste. Catherine Street, the city's main downtown thoroughfare. It was a winter mass celebration in a city that loves its other two parades: St. Patrick's and — back in our increasingly distant history — the Stanley Cup.
Ogilvy's, a posh downtown department store, launched its Christmas window display in the same year the first Miracle on 34th Street was released. Titled The Mill in the Forest, the elaborate decoration (handcrafted and imported from Europe) featured small animals celebrating Christmas in a festive village.
The moving parts were magical and drew crowds of parents and their enchanted children. Years after I was a child and before becoming a parent, I loved taking a stroll from the downtown Gazette newsroom to Ogilvy's, just to drink in the enchantment on children's faces.
I was sad, a couple years ago, when a redesign of the store involved removal of the Christmas display. But I was gladdened when it was reassembled at Montreal's downtown Mccord Museum — even if it's not quite the same as standing outside in a gentle December snowfall.
I'm equally nostalgic about two days of Christmas celebrations with my ex-wife's family.
Christmas Eve at my in-laws was a buffet dinner, including family and friends, and an exchange of wrapped gifts between my wife, her three siblings and their children. Then Christmas dinner was the traditional stuffed turkey, yummy veggies and holiday faves, including plum pudding.
But the highlight was the whistles.
Each member of the dinner party was assigned a small plastic whistle, the tone of which varied from shrill to not-so-shrill. The family patriarch, my late former father-in-law, was the conductor. Working through pages of Christmas carols, he would point the baton at the designated whistleblower.
Of course, the “musicians” had enjoyed a cocktail or two before dinner and some wine during the meal. Brahms being perhaps the notable exception, alcohol does not make for great music.
But it was fun. As everything about Christmas ought to be.
Here's my heartfelt message to readers, from a young Judy Garland: “Have yourself a merry little Christmas.”