One Christmas morning I received a “Lite Bright”. As for fond memories of Christmas, that’s about it. More often than not, Christmas meant standing in the return line on December 26th at either Sears or JCPenney.
My parent’s employers were the two largest retailers at the time and consequently, our gifts came from one of these two places. I recall a lot of ugly sweaters made of synthetic fibers. Boots, scarves, hats and mittens were usually part of the package. No matter how ugly, these things were a must in Minnesota. One year I got a pair of walkie-talkies. Those were pretty cool.
In retrospect, it was all about practicality, and I’d have rather been raised with that than excess. I guess a Lite Bright and walkie-talkies, over a childhood, is damn good.
These days I see kids getting pissed off if they’re not getting a $200 phone or a $2,000 gaming console. Neither, of which, by the way, will be all that helpful during a blizzard. Worse yet, however, are the parents who think that loading their kids with fancy shit is actually going to make them happy. Things like that don’t get returned anymore. They are disposed of and, by late March, are likely in the county land-fill.
And what’s up with, in this day and age, cutting down a tree? Hasn’t anyone provided an environmental impact statement on the detrimental effects of Christmas?
It’s with all this in mind that I use the holidays as a time to remind myself that modesty is more important than materialism. New flannel shirts from the thrift store cost less than a latte’, and an ugly sweater is still a warm sweater! And for lands sake, how about ditching those cards with men riding camels through a snowy desert. Put on a pot of coffee and invite your friends over for some bars. They’ll enjoy the conversation much more than a fake-ass , once-a-year holiday greeting.
Peace!
Grandma’s House…
She’d bake up dozens of Christmas cookies and keep them in tins on the attic stairs, thus keeping them cool, but not frozen.
Say Cheese…
My mother’s insistence that my sister and I sit in front of the fake Christmas tree every year for the same boring picture.
Aunt Eleanor’s…
My aunt lived across the street. We’d usually end up over there on Christmas day, envious of the gifts our cousins received, while listing to my uncle Fritz tell some bull-shit story.
Bondage…
My grandma usually gave us US Savings Bonds. They were the gift that kept on giving. Boring, but very practical. They’d arrive in the mail with a handwritten letter.
White Out…
During winter break, we’d always look forward to a blizzard. We’d bundle up in snowpants and parkas, and head down the street to the white stucco church, where, during wicked snow storms, everything would disappear behind a sheild of white.
Jeff,
Please, the Christmas trees that people cut down are grown on a farm for the express reason to be cut down. They are then replaced with a new seedling to be grown for future harvest. If you are smart, you use your discarded tree to create cover for wildlife or fish . Most folks don’t just go out and hack down a tree in the closest city park. Your insight is usally right on track, but getting a real tree is not enviromentally unsound. If the tree farmer didn’t make money off of those trees, there would not be a reason for him to plant hundreds of trees every year, thereby contributing to cleaning the air we breathe. Did you ever take a stroll through a pine tree farm? It smells wonderful.
Jeff
Agreed. Besides, real trees are much more quick to biodegrade than plastic ones that sit in landfills when they get tossed, even if they don’t get tossed yearly.
I’d rather see fewer pieces of inflatable holiday garbage on people’s lawn. That’s a trend I could do without.