I love the holidays, especially Christmas. It's essentially a month long holiday from the day after Thanksgiving to the big finale on December 25th. The classic Christmas songs hit the airwaves. TV stations constantly broadcasting Christmas classics. Cities and their grayish gloom from winter's dull touch become adorned with wreathes, ribbons, bows, and trees. Friends and family hold and attend numerous holiday themed events all month long. And every year when it rolls around, I feel as if there's a touch of magic in the air.
Every year, Christmas came in threes for me. Always starting things off was Christmas eve at my grandparents house on my dad's side with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. Then Christmas morning was gifts from my parents and finally a return to my grandparents around lunch time for more Christmas fun, but this time my great aunt and second cousin joined us. Next is a breakdown of what those three events looked like through my eyes.
Christmas Eve put my excitement level at an all time high. Weeks of buildup, helping Grandpa and Grandma Watkins decorate their house including the Christmas tree that would soon have wonderfully wrapped presents beneath them, led to sheer joy overload when the 24th of December made its appearance. My parents would dress up me and my siblings in nice clothes and after dinner, it was off to Grandma's house we went. The lights were twinkling, the table was covered in goodies, and there at the foot of the basement stairs was the tree and it's gifts. We raced down the stairs to find Grandpa either starting or stoking the fire. Once everyone was downstairs and settled, my cousins, some of my siblings, and I would hand out the gifts. Then began the destruction of the wrapping paper, followed by the fun of playing with the shredded paper. To finish off the evening, we'd head back upstairs for cake, cookies, candy, pop, and all the sugar our hearts desired.
Christmas Day usually started with us kids wanting to play with our new treasures from the night before, but we had to add to them with gifts from Mom and Dad. Santa wasn't a big deal for us and we were fine with that, but we tried to do our best not to spoil him for the other kids. As lunchtime approached, and depending on the year, we'd either go back to my grandparent's house or head out to my great aunt's house. There we would enjoy a Christmas lunch followed by another round of gifts. Us kids would spend the rest of the day playing with the new goodies or outside in the snow (if there was any).
One of our favorite pre-Christmas activities was when our parents bundled us all up after dinner, packed us in the old station wagon, and drove us all over town to see all the different ways the neighbors adorned their houses with twinkling Christmas lights. Some houses went all out with every edge and eave covered in lights, their front yard protected by inflatable snowmen, and good ol' Saint Nick and his reindeer smiling from their roof. Other houses simply had one tree dressed in a rainbow of lights, which may not seem like much, but it was more than we did and it was awesome. As I got older I did come to learn that this was an inexpensive form of entertainment and a good way to have us pass out around bedtime. I still, as a man in my 30s sometimes slowdown by twinkling houses when this time of year rolls around.
With Christmas came traditions. Especially when it came to cookies. We'd joyfully retrieve the Christmas themed cookie cutters as my mom prepared all the baking supplies. Once everything was in place, we'd grab our personal aprons off the hook and get to work. There'd be mixing and stirring and rolling and dough sampling and spoon licking. Our faces would be covered in batter and our hands in flour. Then, as the dough was complete, we would bring forth the Christmas shapes hidden inside it. Snowmen with top hats appeared, as did Christmas trees, candy canes, and of course, the face of Santa Claus. Before the finishing touches could be applied, we had to wait out the baking. We'd know exactly when they were done because back then, we had a little wind-up timer that let out a buzz or ring so loud you could hear it anywhere in the house. It didn't matter if we were watching TV or playing intently, that timer's song was enough to make us drop everything and run to the kitchen. Once the cookies cooled, we began icing them (and eating some of it in the process) with the homemade icing that was made for them. Some were lucky enough to be covered in sprinkles or sugar coating. They wouldn't last long in our house, but when they ran out, simply making more was the way to go.
I don't think that last paragraph was enough to truly portray how serious my family took Christmas cookie making. Every Christmas, without fail, Grandma Watkins would makes many batches of many different arrays of cookies. Any days we spent at her house during December, we'd be tasked with helping, which we didn't mind. Grandpa would help too, but his help consisted of eating the finished products before they could be packaged up. Grandma would scold him and let him know that the more he ate, the less there'd be at Christmas time. But why did she make so many? Because they made the perfect gift to give to many people. The table in the breezeway would be covered in tins filled with cookies until they were delivered to their recipients. To this day, my family still practices the art of cookie making and it's become a staple Christmas tradition for us.
No two Christmases were ever the same, but the magic that came with them was always there. It came in different forms, shapes and sizes, but it always reminded me why I love this season so much. Here are some of those magical moments.
Let's kick things off with the Christmas of 2000. Every year Grandma Watkins wanted a list from us. She didn't care how long it was, just as long as nothing on the list was more than $20. So every year, I went through the Christmas Lego Catalog and made a list of every set I knew my parents would be okay with me having that fell under $20. If I wanted a particular set more than the rest, I put it near the top of the list. However, it was very rare that I received any set close to the $20 value because Grandma and Grandpa like getting us multiple gifts rather than one bigger one. Well in the summer of 2000, Curtis was over at my house and he brought his new Lego set that had just come out out that year. It was part of the new Adventurers line which was my favorite. The set was a large airplane called the Island Hopper. It was the biggest one I had seen and had a lot of bells and whistles. I was in awe of the two large propellers on the front, the secret compartment in the back, and it even came with a Lego Pterodactyl. I think I talked my mom's ear off about it that summer, but didn't think I had a chance at getting it because it cost exactly $20. I spent the rest of the year looking at it in the Lego catalogs and dreaming about how I'd play with it if I owned it. December eventually arrived and Grandma asked for a list. I put together probably one of the longest lists I had ever made. My memory isn't 100% here, but I'm pretty sure I did not put the Island Hopper on the list because I thought I wouldn't get it. Christmas Eve came as it normally did and once at Grandpa and Grandma's, I was excited to hand out the gifts. I zoomed back and forth from the tree to the person whose name was on the To/From tag. Even though I had handled most of the gifts with my name on them, none stood out to me. I decided to open the smaller ones first to build up to the "better" gifts. After a few oohs and aahs, I grabbed what I deemed to be a medium sized present. I tore into it wondering what it could be. The first tear was enough to freeze me in my seat. I couldn't believe what I was staring at. I let out a shout of joy and tore off the rest of the paper. There in my hands was the Island Hopper. It took me totally by surprise and hit me with a blast of sheer joy. I ran around the room showing my mom, dad, uncle, aunt, and grandparents. They all knew as they were in on it. That big, beautiful plane was mine and would be fully assembled by the end of Christmas Day. This was most certainly one of those Christmases where the one single, thoughtful gift made Christmas a memorable one. The Island Hopper is still proudly displayed in my room to this very day.
The year eludes me, but sometime in the mid 90s, one Christmas in particular was memorable not because of the gifts alone, but because of all the events leading up to it. The first occurred on a chilly night. My parents dressed me up in a nice vest, dress shirt, and dress pants. We then went to a holiday party where My Uncle Randy, Aunt Tina, and cousin Dave also were. It may have been a company party or special church party, but that didn't matter to me. There was a large, decorated tree in the corner that lit up that section of the room. Next to it was a device that was meant to return golf balls putted into it. I'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be left out as no clubs nor balls were in sight. Dave and I discovered it after the dinner. Since we didn't have golf balls, we used pieces of corn left over from our plates and set them in the return machine. We then put pressure on the plate to trick the device into thinking a ball was inside. The device would then flip it's flipper and send our corn kernels flying much to our delight. Christmas music played throughout the night and at one point, a man dressed as Santa Claus showed up. All the kids in attendance were lined up in front of him. I some how ended up in the front of the line. I was scared and didn't want to go first so I ran to the back of the line. As I watched the other kids go, I saw nothing to fear. As soon as they set me on his lap, he asked me what I wanted and I didn't know how to say the name of the hot wheels car track I wanted, so I told him that I wanted super zooming cars that went on a crazy tracked and zoomed everywhere. He nodded his head, said Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas. Spoiler alert, I didn't get it because I'm pretty sure it was the most expensive hot wheels track that year and I don't think I told my parents. That night may have been the last time I ever sat on a strange man's lap who was dressed as Santa. It was also the earliest Christmas party I can recall attending and as a child, made me appreciate this season much more.
Later that month, a large package showed up on our doorstep. It was early Christmas presents from my Uncle Bob and Aunt Cici in Wisconsin. It was filled to the brim with stuffed animals. One was a bear with overalls that I thought was strange but awesome at the same time. I named him PJ. PJ didn't supplant Bernie Bear, but he was part of many childhood adventures. As Christmas drew closer, my parents took us to a retail store known as Hills to do some Christmas shopping. Normally this meant we would get to see all the Christmas decorations the store had for sale and to ogle the toys in the toy aisles. Some toys had holes in the plastic with a "try me" button to give you a taste of what the toy could do without opening it. I didn't care that we weren't spending money, I always had a blast. This time was a little different. We had been given some Christmas money and could get one thing. As we wandered the aisles, there was a stack of boxes with the toy that was inside them displayed on top. I knew immediately that was what I wanted. I didn't even need to look at the other toys in the store. On top of that massive pile sat a black monster truck called "Buffalo". The magic about it was that it was remote controlled. In the 90s, the remote controlled cars made by Tyger Toys were all the rage. And I was going home with one. You better believe I ran that thing until the batteries died and needed replaced. Since it had big tires with rubber spikes, I could drive it across grassy terrain. So of course I did. Never did I imagine that simple trip to a retail store would be a wonderful Christmas memory burned into my mind for ages to come.
Christmas Eve and Day that year seemed like the best Christmas I ever had simply to everything that led up to it. One thing I haven't mentioned about my grandparent's house is that every year my grandma would put out a plastic dish tree on the table. Each little dish would hold a hershey kiss or reese's peanutbutter cup as the "decorations". Grandma would let us fill that tree and the rule was that if you ate a decoration, you had to replace it. It was simple, yet an important part of each and every Christmas.
I have other Christmas memories I am going to share, but those I was to save for as we move along in the timeline because they were instrumental to those years of my life. I hope you have a wonderful holiday season and goodwill and blessing to you all.
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