Bucking a trend.
Nov. 27th, 2001 08:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaA dozen things I like about Christmas:
1. The scents of Christmas: pine needles, oranges, cloves, cinnamon, coffee, candle wax, snow. The tastes of Christmas: peppermint, chocolate, nutmeg, ginger, hot apple cider, cookies and cocoa.
2. Christmas baking: cookie-press Christmas trees, snickerdoodles, pecan pies. The physicality of baking. Green and red sugar crystals scattered across the kitchen counter. Sharing the kitchen with my mother and sisters.
3. Christmas carols. Not syrupy recorded ones, not “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer,” but old carols sung in company, and maybe in harmony. “The First Nowell.” “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” My father singing “O Holy Night” at the late Christmas Eve church service.
4. Sing-alongs of Handel’s Messiah, especially with a full orchestra.
5. All of my siblings home at the same time. The easy familiarity of hanging out with people who have known me for 28 years, who share memories and relationships in common. Recounting of family stories. Renewal of longstanding jokes and play-arguments. Thickly layered in-references.
6. Preparing gifts. Making a list of the people closest to me and thinking of each one in turn – how could I make her happy? What would he really, really like? The gleeful, glowing feeling of finding the perfect present, especially for those who are hard to shop for. Wrapping paper and bows and ribbons. Slipping my pile of presents under the tree on Christmas eve, watching the pile grow as others add theirs, thinking of all that happiness bound up waiting to be released.
7. Christmas specials on TV. Knowing the words by heart. “Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot. But the Grinch” – pause for dramatic incidental music – “who lived just north of Whoville did not. The Grinch hated Christmas – the whole Christmas season…”
8. Decorating the tree. Unwrapping the ornaments, placing hand-blown crystal stars next to felt-and-glitter elementary school creations. Old-fashioned colored glass ornaments which belonged to my grandparents. The lumpy blue papier-mache ball my mother made as a child. Stuffed felt-and-bead ornaments my mother, sister, and I made one year. Sticker-laden construction-paper cutouts made by foster children long lost to us. The felt angel. The yarn-and-wooden-bead jumping jack. The miniscule wooden nativity set. The crocheted basket with Santa and a snowman siting side by side.
9. Sitting in the darkened living room with the Christmas tree lights on. “I think this is the nicest tree we’ve ever had.” “Your Aunt Kings always loved the Christmas tree so much.” “Remember the year the tree kept falling over? We’d come home from being out somewhere and there wouldn’t be anything in the living room window…”
10. Giving gifts. Having a niece or nephew propel themselves into my arms: “Wow, thanks, Aunt Rebecca! That’s so cool!” Seeing faces surprised and happy. Watching a family member become absorbed in my present, lost for the moment to other gifts waiting.
11. Receiving gifts. The joy of finding that someone has thought carefully about me, and chosen something that will make me happy. Gifts I would never have thought to ask for, that propel me in a new direction or open up new avenues of enjoyment – such as the origami book and paper my sister gave me when I was ten. Frivolous treats I would never buy for myself. Useful gifts I can’t afford for myself. Abundance.
12. Going to church on Christmas eve. The sanctuary swathed in greenery, studded with thick white candles, brilliant with pointsettias. The children’s pageant. The carols. The familiar words and cadences of the lessons: “…And the angel said to them, fear not! I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be for all people.” The idea of a God who chose to become helpless and powerless, to be born as an infant among insignificant and humble people. The light of a candle passing from person to person as the lights are dimmed. Passing the light through my family, the glow illuminating each face in turn. Singing “Silent Night” softly by candlelight. “Sleep in heavenly peace.”
1. The scents of Christmas: pine needles, oranges, cloves, cinnamon, coffee, candle wax, snow. The tastes of Christmas: peppermint, chocolate, nutmeg, ginger, hot apple cider, cookies and cocoa.
2. Christmas baking: cookie-press Christmas trees, snickerdoodles, pecan pies. The physicality of baking. Green and red sugar crystals scattered across the kitchen counter. Sharing the kitchen with my mother and sisters.
3. Christmas carols. Not syrupy recorded ones, not “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer,” but old carols sung in company, and maybe in harmony. “The First Nowell.” “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” My father singing “O Holy Night” at the late Christmas Eve church service.
4. Sing-alongs of Handel’s Messiah, especially with a full orchestra.
5. All of my siblings home at the same time. The easy familiarity of hanging out with people who have known me for 28 years, who share memories and relationships in common. Recounting of family stories. Renewal of longstanding jokes and play-arguments. Thickly layered in-references.
6. Preparing gifts. Making a list of the people closest to me and thinking of each one in turn – how could I make her happy? What would he really, really like? The gleeful, glowing feeling of finding the perfect present, especially for those who are hard to shop for. Wrapping paper and bows and ribbons. Slipping my pile of presents under the tree on Christmas eve, watching the pile grow as others add theirs, thinking of all that happiness bound up waiting to be released.
7. Christmas specials on TV. Knowing the words by heart. “Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot. But the Grinch” – pause for dramatic incidental music – “who lived just north of Whoville did not. The Grinch hated Christmas – the whole Christmas season…”
8. Decorating the tree. Unwrapping the ornaments, placing hand-blown crystal stars next to felt-and-glitter elementary school creations. Old-fashioned colored glass ornaments which belonged to my grandparents. The lumpy blue papier-mache ball my mother made as a child. Stuffed felt-and-bead ornaments my mother, sister, and I made one year. Sticker-laden construction-paper cutouts made by foster children long lost to us. The felt angel. The yarn-and-wooden-bead jumping jack. The miniscule wooden nativity set. The crocheted basket with Santa and a snowman siting side by side.
9. Sitting in the darkened living room with the Christmas tree lights on. “I think this is the nicest tree we’ve ever had.” “Your Aunt Kings always loved the Christmas tree so much.” “Remember the year the tree kept falling over? We’d come home from being out somewhere and there wouldn’t be anything in the living room window…”
10. Giving gifts. Having a niece or nephew propel themselves into my arms: “Wow, thanks, Aunt Rebecca! That’s so cool!” Seeing faces surprised and happy. Watching a family member become absorbed in my present, lost for the moment to other gifts waiting.
11. Receiving gifts. The joy of finding that someone has thought carefully about me, and chosen something that will make me happy. Gifts I would never have thought to ask for, that propel me in a new direction or open up new avenues of enjoyment – such as the origami book and paper my sister gave me when I was ten. Frivolous treats I would never buy for myself. Useful gifts I can’t afford for myself. Abundance.
12. Going to church on Christmas eve. The sanctuary swathed in greenery, studded with thick white candles, brilliant with pointsettias. The children’s pageant. The carols. The familiar words and cadences of the lessons: “…And the angel said to them, fear not! I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be for all people.” The idea of a God who chose to become helpless and powerless, to be born as an infant among insignificant and humble people. The light of a candle passing from person to person as the lights are dimmed. Passing the light through my family, the glow illuminating each face in turn. Singing “Silent Night” softly by candlelight. “Sleep in heavenly peace.”
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Mmmmmmm...
Date: 2001-11-27 06:40 pm (UTC)My road diverged from Christianity a while ago, but I have a lot of fond memories of Christmases past, and I try to keep my favorite bits of the traditions I recall alive in the present. There's a lot of overlap with your list.
You're the one who has snickerdoodles for Christmas! Now I remember. :) I don't associate them with a particular season. "Christmas cookies" to me brings to mind Russian teacakes, decorated honey-lemon cutouts, gaudy green wreaths made with marshmallows and cornflakes with green food coloring and red hots for decoration, rum balls, lace cookies - which are sort of a crisp caramelly-type affair with coconut in them, that boil as they cook and make holes so the whole thing looks lacy, and spiced pecans and home-made toffee with chocolate and almonds.
Um. Now I'm really hungry. :)
Re: Mmmmmmm...
Date: 2001-11-27 06:54 pm (UTC)Snickerdoodles rolled in cinnamon sugar are everyday cookies. Snickerdoodles rolled in red and green sugar crystals are for Christmas.
Re: Mmmmmmm...
Date: 2001-11-27 07:41 pm (UTC)Re: Mmmmmmm...
Date: 2001-11-27 09:55 pm (UTC)Snickerdoodles are just yummy, is what they are! I guess it's the cream of tartar that makes them taste different. They're very nice. :)
Re: Mmmmmmm...
Date: 2001-11-28 08:18 am (UTC)Funny how the one thing I really dread at Christmas is colored cookies and cookie decorations.
--Trinker
Re: Mmmmmmm...
Date: 2001-11-28 08:29 am (UTC)I am famous (well, in a small pond *g*) for my decorated cookies. Plaid Santas anyone? :)
Re: Mmmmmmm...
Date: 2001-11-28 02:45 pm (UTC)The absolute worst birthday cake experience I've ever had was a beautifully buttercream rose frosting over nasty rubbery cake. I *hate* buttercream, with very few exceptions, and much prefer a cake with whipped cream or custard.
I can promise to have an esthetic appreciation for your plaid Santas, even if I have a gastronomic nonenthusiasm for them.
--Trinker