Jeff’s favorite is a decidedly non-religious part
My favorite Christmas memory … oh wait, I’m Jewish. But no matter. I still dig Christmas. I mean, why wouldn’t I? It’s the only time of year when being “merry” is a choice. Seriously. Try and be merry in July and see what happens.
I’ve got a little Buddy Elf in me when no one is looking. Always have. Fa-la-lala and all. I mean, I hear Johnny Mathis’s version of “Winter Wonderland” and that’s it. I’m rummaging through my drawers for green and red sweaters, even though I know full well I don’t own a single one.
So yes. While I’m not keyed into to the religious part of Christmas, I sure am keyed into the whole “‘tis the season” aspect of the holiday.
While I have no Christmas morning memories growing up, I have plenty of them now, as we’re a two-party household and celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah. And watching the kids’ faces when they first come down the stairs and see the presents under the tree … well, it sure is memory-making, that experience.
But when I scroll through the years, when I reach all the way back, there is one particular memory that stands out. It’s the memory I will always associate with Christmas.
It’s the memory of artificial cherry flavoring.
When I was a kid, the Santa on the fire truck would hand out giant cherry lollipops, the one with Santa imprinted on the front, with some white sugary substance attached. They were the size and shape of a small pancake. They were delicious.
And while I can’t remember my intellectual take on the whole “Who is this jolly man in a red suit?” portion of the program, I do remember being excited as all git-out when I’d hear those sirens wailing in the distance.
It’s truly a larger-thanlife memory. Santa was impossibly big, impossibly high up on the truck. The firemen were impossibly nice. The lollipop was impossibly delicious.
Every so often I’ll come across this type of lollipop, and I’ll be tempted. But I let pass, every time. I don’t want to muck with the perfection of the memory.