As my journeys continue to take me along roads I never
thought possible, I’m seeing some changes in perspective. Totally normal. It’s
what travel and adventures are supposed to do, to make us more aware of
ourselves, our lives, and the worlds of others that surround us. It’s exactly
why I get in the car and take to the highway, or take a plane to Europe or the
Tropics. And back when I was meaningfully employed I enjoyed the everyday
excitement of the new and interesting. It was one of those jobs where you
accepted when you got up in the morning you didn’t know where you might be
sleeping that night. You went where the story gods sent you. And on each
adventure you learned, sometimes good things, sometimes bad things, and always
you learned about the frailties and failings of humans.
As a kid you never thought of such things, and neither
should you have. For most of us Christmas was quite magical. Lights, cameras,
action, relatives, family friends, food, alcohol (the source of many families’
grief and funny stories), toys, wrapping paper, hugs, kisses, and at least at
our house a minimum of discord. As kids we were protected from such things.
Whether by design or unspoken agreement amongst the adults, we went about our
childhood Christmas ways never contemplating that the adults who loved us might
have some inter-personal issues.
The other day I was archiving some family photos and came
across some from those early Christmas’s. Toy’s long since forgotten, the one’s
that every other kid might have received, some that helped define the pop
culture of the time. I was struck by the innocent acceptance that each picture
showed. It was obvious in these pictures that no one in my family really wanted
for anything. Except perhaps for kid’s pajamas that fit, and didn’t look like
they were going to fall down around your ankles and trip the unwary.
Those candid moments shifted perspective for me. In that
moment came an understanding of the Christmas journey that every adult has to
face eventually, the one that for some will be uncomfortable, for some
profound, for some sad, and for some humourous. A journey that for the most
part has already happened, and will continue in the following years. It’s a
journey that happens only one day every year, bookmarking a place we would wish
to revisit and at the same time go to great lengths to move forward from. The
classic human conundrum, torn between the comfort of joy and safety in the
past, while at the same time pushing ahead while carrying some baggage and trying
to continue the traditions and customs of the past. Humans are notoriously bad
at balancing such things. Like I said, a conundrum.
One thing, however struck me as absolute - dinner!
Everything else changed, be they toys, clothing sizes, fashion, voices, or height.
Dinner was the Christmas constant. Few things changed around dinner. Roast
turkey, Potatoes
Romanoff, Brussel Sprouts (they still overwhelm my gag reflex), ham, and
assorted vegetables. Dessert varied from Black Forest cake to Brandy Alexander Pie.
One year the Brandy Alexander pie was a bit too potent after a mis-reading of
the recipe doubled the amount of alcohol!
And then there was the year we had no turkey. Our house had
a two oven range, and one of them gave up working halfway through cooking the
bird. It was a bit of a scramble but the parent’s put their heads together and
found enough in the pantry to feed everyone. As I recall it was ham, spam, and
canned corned beef. And we always had a houseful to feed. The minimum was 12,
the max was 20. It all depended on the year, and who had nowhere else to go. We
usually wound up with some holiday orphans.
We didn’t have a kid’s table. From the time we were old enough
to feed ourselves it was expected that we would be scattered amongst the
adults. We were expected to listen and participate. One pseudo uncle served on
the Queen Mary during the Second War and always had a wonderful tale or an
outrageous joke. Around that table we learned of politics, show biz (both gossip
and history), humour, family history, world history, science (both real and
fiction), table manners, current events, business, economics, labour, cars,
planes, how to tell a story, ships, and everything else under the sun including
how to hang wall paper.
We learned how to be part of the greater whole. During those
dinners the morning toys were forgotten. The people mattered. I mentioned
before that we were never aware of any family discord. Rightly so, a child
should never be aware of such things. In some families discord would dominate
the holidays, and we all know someone who suffered as a result. It could be
that some of those people were at our Christmas dining table, but it wasn’t
apparent.
At the beginning of this I put forth that I wasted a lot of
my parent’s money on things I can no longer summon forth to matter. As they
have both passed on, I can’t ask them, tell them, or thank them. However, I
remember most of those dinners and the people who, in their own way, helped my
parents to raise three curious and rambunctious boys.
One of the threads first sewn into the fabric of my life was
something my parents often said at those times when sibling discord arose, “One
day we won’t be here, and you’ll only have each other.” An inevitable prophecy
that has come true.
Time continues to pass and those Christmas dinners where once
we numbered from 12 to 20 have become smaller. With the exception of our
beloved aunt who lives overseas, every one of those childhood dinner guests
have passed on. Tonight there will be four of us for dinner, my two brothers
and a new face. Yet around that table will be the loving memories of many
people, the one’s that took an interest in the curiosity of growing children,
and who very gently and wisely overlooked the mistakes of manners and tempers
that every child will suffer.
My Christmas Takeaway has nothing to do with toys, and
wrapping paper. It’s their gift of the quiet, intelligent, adventurous, humourous,
love filled and mildly prosperous life I get to live as a result of those
Christmas dinners.
Peace to all, and safe adventures in the New Year.
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