Christmas memories are special
Christmas memories are fragile. For me, they tend to blur together, with details not remembered as well as I wish. Perhaps, as I get older, the long-term memories will move to the front of the line.
There was the King Zor Christmas. Dad actually wrote a previous column about the frustration of trying to return a defective King Zor dinosaur for one in working order. After waiting over 30 minutes, Dad took a replacement model, left a note, and was promptly stopped in the parking lot and accused of stealing. It all worked out, though, and my brother and I experienced the terror of a growling, walking plastic dinosaur that shot plastic balls at us when approached. The price of that toy was $12.66 in 1962, equal to about $105 in today’s dollars. I have seen King Zor toys on eBay selling from $200 to $600. Whatever happened to ours?
One Christmas morning we found a note on the fireplace hearth from Santa apologizing for not leaving many presents, but there had been an earthquake in some European country and the kids there needed Santa’s help. We understood and took it in stride.
I remember the chemistry set, the microscope and a plastic model of the human brain I received at various Christmases. I wonder if that was my parents’ way of pushing me toward a career in science?
The last Christmas spent in New Mexico was special because a peacock appeared in our backyard and stayed around for a few weeks. I still have no idea how it got there or where it went.
As children, we experienced the agony of waiting for what seemed like forever for Christmas Day to arrive, only to feel sadness when it was all over. We strived to get that “Christmas Spirit” every year. We usually captured it once we saw the Christmas story played out at church.
Christmas was a time for coming home as we grew older and started to move away. Family gatherings became more meaningful and the keeping of tradition more important. This was an anchor that kept us secure as we experienced the pains of growing up and becoming independent. The first year my wife and I could not come back to Siloam Springs for Christmas was difficult. We overcompensated by spending more on gifts to each other than we should have, and we worked hard to fend off the feelings of sadness from not being with family. But we realized we were our own family now. We sat on a sofa under a blanket and watched the lights blink on the small tree we decorated. We talked about what our families were probably doing back home. We had each other and that was enough.
Our son had his first Christmas when he was 6 months old. Of course, we showered him with presents and took many pictures. We really felt like a family then. Now he is a father and they are doing the same with their precious 1-year-old daughter. Maggie is getting a whole bunch of presents from her Granny and Papa!
The best memories of Christmas come from being with family and friends who are loved and cherished. Gifts, toys and the like will disappear (where is that King Zor?) but the feelings of warmth, love and acceptance last a lifetime. I hope all can say the same.
I guess I remember more about Christmases past than I thought.