We celebrated a secular Christmas in our house until I was in high school. It was suddenly taken away without explanation. This moment ripped the "Christmas Spirit" from my heart and left a deep, dark hole. It left a bitterness toward the happiness of the holiday time. It wasn't the symbols of Christmas I missed, but the family traditions that went with decorating the tree and opening gifts on Christmas morning. Taking Christmas out of our home took away a reason for the family to do something together.
I looked forward to getting the tree and ornaments from the attic. It was fun to unwrap each delicate ornament and relive the important memory behind each one. We had a Miss Piggy angel whose wing would fall off every year. We super glued it back on so she could hang on our tree another year. We had a Garfield ornament where the front showed him looking out the window at the snow, but when you turned it around, you saw his back and the Christmas tree. There were mine and my sister's first Christmas ornaments, mine obviously from 1976 and hers more updated from 1982. Each year we went to select a special ornament from the Hallmark store with the year on it. I looked forward to going to the store and looking at all the new ornaments for the year. We'd select one to add to our tree. This created a new memory to unwrap for the next Christmas.
We had stockings and special stocking holders. I would hang these with care by the fire place with anticipation of candy and other things that could possibly fit inside.
I would love when the sun went down and darkness would blanket the house, so we could turn on the twinkling lights and (if cool enough) have a fire in the fireplace. It was a warm, happy feeling. Something that brought my dysfunctional family together. It brought warmth and peace to the house. I wanted it to always last.
Then the brightly colored, carefully wrapped presents would appear under the tree. I do not believe Christmas is about presents and hate how commercialized the holiday becomes each year. But, the presents under the tree were so pretty and filled with wonder. My sister and I would find the presents labeled with our name and shake them trying to guess.
We'd leave a note for Santa with his milk and cookies. We also always left a carrot for Rudolph so he could lead the sleigh. When we were young and still believed in the magic of Santa, falling asleep was so hard. I couldn't wait to wake up and see what Santa brought. I also couldn't wait to see what had been under the tree. It was an exciting time. We had really elaborate Christmases for people who didn't have a lot of money. We pretty much received all the hottest new toys and everything on our lists. Now that I am grown up, I see that my parents were probably trying to make up for all the crappy stuff by buying us a lot for Christmas and Hanukkah.
When my dad decided to convert to Judaism, my parents no longer saw the need to celebrate Christmas in our house. I guess we did it for him all those years. Since we only celebrated the secular Christmas, I didn't understand why it had to stop. We didn't do the religious parts. They weren't removing a holiday "our people" didn't celebrate, they were removing years of family bonding and traditions.
I've been pretty grumpy about the holiday since then. Like I hold something against it. I don't embrace it. I don't want much to do with it. I'm bitter. I should direct that at my mom, but instead, I direct it at the holiday. I feel bad about this.
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