Christmas Eve (2018)

Historically this was a day of tradition in my family.

We’d drive down to Muncie, IN from Paulding, OH. When I was very young, we’d bundle in blankets because the heat in the old Reno van (the van my dad used to promote his rock-and-roll band) didn’t have any heat. There may have been no snow, but it would still be damn cold that time of year.

Dad would take a nap when we got there. A Muncie nap, though he was prone to such things at home too.

Aunts, uncles, and cousins would come. We’d play Trivial Pursuit or Euchre (a card game).

Eventually we’d dine on delivered Chinese food, à la The Christmas Story. (You might know it better as the “You’ll shoot your eye out” story.) My uncle often ended up with McDonald’s instead, because he “didn’t like” Chinese food. I think we may have gotten him to try it one year…

After dinner we’d open presents. When I was younger, all of the kids opened presents first. Then I reached an age where some of the aunts and uncles thought I was too old to receive a gift from everyone. (I was the oldest niece, you see…) I entered the “adult gift exchange,” where my name was matched with an aunt or uncle. The younger kids remained behind. I didn’t mind so much, though it did mean fewer presents.

But I was more akin to Charlie Brown with such things than Lucy. Something about all of that consumerism irked me. (Still does.)

One year I insisted we act out what Christmas was really all about. It sounded like a good idea, but I felt incredibly stupid with a blanket over my head as Mary. My aunt, Tonya, only three years older than me, read the Bible verses that contain the Christmas story. My younger brother put a sheet or blanket over his head and was Joseph or a shepherd or something. I presume a doll was Baby Jesus. I stood by the reason for the show, but the feeling of shame and stupidity crept in as aunts and uncles chuckled. I remember feeling … well … embarrassed. We never did THAT again.

There were other times I tried to change status quo. Maybe we could all give to our favorite charity. Maybe we could exchange names and give to the other person’s favorite charity… No one ever wanted to do it. Gifts were hollow offerings, chosen from a list created by a person we only saw a few times a year. But the family still wanted to do the exchange on 12/24.

When we got to the “adult” gift exchange, we always went in age order: either forward or reverse. And there was always a disagreement about the order. Should Matt open before Dad, or was it the other way around?

But Grandpa always went first, as he had the most gifts. (The gift exchange was created so no one had to buy for too many people. Gpa. Tom still received one from all of the kids.)

Buying gifts for Grandpa was perilous. You might as well buy from his list, or your gift was up for regifting immediately after the gift exchange. Or within a day or two at the latest. Which was a practical way to go for him. The man had everything he needed. It made no sense keeping things around that he didn’t need. But it still cut like an icicle to the forehead if you overheard him giving your gift to someone else the next day.

By the end of the gift exchange, usually at least one person had cried. Alcohol was always present, and this (among decades of history) led to disagreements, misunderstandings, and all-out fights.

After the gift exchange people would scatter. Back home. To the extra rooms. To bed.

Since we did much of our celebrating on Christmas Eve, Santa still hadn’t come yet. We left beer and cookies for him. Mom and Dad told us Santa preferred this, because so many others left out milk. Plus, Santa did have a long workday! Certainly he’d appreciate a beer or two at some point.

I don’t miss the drama. I don’t miss the fights or the crying. I don’t miss the presents.

What I do miss is the sense of ease that came with belonging. I often didn’t feel like I belonged to my family (see a couple of examples above). But still we came together during the holidays in our dysfunctional way. We definitely needed (need) healthier communication methods. But all was forgiven, or at least forgotten, when we came together again. For a little while, anyway.

Now I live many states away. My mom lives multiple hours away in the same state as me. We don’t get together in the same way. Maybe we never can. Grandpa was the true connector of us all. He passed in 2010. Fallible though he was, he was also charismatic as hell.

My dad passed not too long after.

My connection to the family diminished when I lived in Okinawa from 1999-2003. It’s pretty hard to make it back home when you are 10,000 miles away. And during those years, though my ex-husband and I signed up for the gift exchange and sent our gifts, we didn’t receive them back. It’s not about the receiving, but when you are 10,000 miles away it’s nice to know you aren’t forgotten… Unfortunately, my family didn’t do so hot with that…

So I’m sitting at my desk in sunny Florida on Christmas Eve 2018. It’s 70F right now. I’m alone with my two cats nearby. A tear or two has left my eyes with these memories. Not all of them are good. But that connection to something bigger than myself is something I miss. It’s something I haven’t been able to replicate as an adult. Some of my personality traits make it incredibly difficult to replicate that connection. Those who know me … well … you know.

So I’m feeling a little low today. But overall good. Glad. Grateful.

Today I want to wish everyone a happy holiday season!

But especially I make this wish to those who might be struggling. Struggling with memories that contrast each other. Struggling with expectations for what the holiday should be, or even with just what you like it to be. Those who struggle with singledom this time of year.

Whatever your Christmas is like, may your life be full of love and gratitude. And let that be what we share through the rest of our years together.