Nostalgia for simpler times, hope for tomorrow
Bellerose: It was 1957, the Cold War. I was 8 years old, living in a corner house in Queens Village with my mother, father and two blind boarders who my mother cared for. We didn’t have much money but always had a good Christmas full of love, sharing and plenty of music, which my mother said was “tonic for the soul.” When we set out to buy our Christmas tree, my father’s car would not start. Snow was on the ground and still falling. We took my sled to a place where they sold trees on Francis Lewis Blvd. about a half-mile away. My father picked out a beautiful 6-footer, we tied it onto my sled and guided it home to 213th St. We sang Christmas carols all the way there. My mother had a special place in front of the fireplace for the tree. Our job was done once it was settled in the stand. Then my mother took over, decorating it with love and devotion in every detail.
Kindness and love seemed to bounce from house to house and neighbors greeted one another with a “Merry Christmas” as carolers sang from house to house. Churches were beaming with worshipers. Christmas meant a lot back then and I just can’t help but wonder if that will ever return. The message of the season is peace on Earth and goodwill toward men. Yet where is it? The picture-perfect Christmases of our memories may have been laced with imperfections but I think they were better than the frenzied days we have now. I can’t help but hope that America returns to family values to live the true meaning of Christmas: peace and goodwill.