My parents had immigrated from India and did not know much of American customs, so we did not begin celebrating the holiday until I was eight. That's when we moved to Plymouth and were surrounded by a Christmas hysteria that we had never witnessed before. I think the snow and cold weather brings the festive spirit alive much more. I also think that in the 70s, Christmas hadn't peaked in its mass appeal.
My family was always hazy on the customs. I never believed in Santa Claus and I am thankful for that. We had a fake tree and wreath and electric candles for the first few years. We got our first live tree when I was in high school and I enjoyed decorating it and smelling the fresh pine needles. I did not like the mess. I loved Christmas and Hannukah songs. My mom would cook a special dinner, such as pot roast or meatloaf. We made Christmas cards. We went sledding and built snowmen. I was excited about Christmas break from school.
The big tradition, the one many people associate with Christmas, of exchanging gifts was one that did not catch on in my family. We are not gift givers. We do get thoughtful gifts for each other throughout the year, but we were hot and cold with the idea of Christmas gifts. Some years we'd wrap up gifts and other years no one would do anything. Sometimes, we'd tell each other the gift or outright ask someone what to buy, thus killing any surprise element. I'm happy that I didn't grow up with an emphasis of gifts. We didn't torture ourselves to finish Christmas shopping during the holiday rush or pick up generic gifts just for the sake of gift giving or believe that this was the only time of the year to do something nice for each other.
Of course, that doesn't mean I don't appreciate a good Christmas gift. I may be contradicting myself, but I love getting gifts. Who doesn't? Memories of gifts I did receive are very special, especially since I don't need to weave through memories of unused picture frames or cop-out calendars or useless gadgets or compulsory gift cards.
My most memorable Christmas was when I was ten and I woke up to find a wrapped box with my name under the decorated tree. "Christmas gift!" I was the only one with a package. I unwrapped the box and amazingly it was a Cabbage Patch Kid. A preemie named Ellie Oriana to be exact. This was when Cabbage Patch Kids were the hot ticket item and I had been on the waiting list for months. Apparently, the store had called a few days before Christmas and my dad and brother had gone to get it. They managed to wrap it up and sneak it back tot he house without me seeing or knowing. I was ecstatic -- words cannot express the joy. This was the first time I'd ever had a Christmas Day surprise.
Many Christmas days have passed since then and I've received several gifts. My parents bought me a brand new car at one point. My preemie doll is somewhere in my parents' basement. I lugged it to school in the fifth grade and then the fad ended. That one memory lives on, though, because I remember the huge smiles across my parents' and brother's faces as I unwrapped the box and expressed my shock and delight at what I saw. They were more excited than I was. That was my favorite Christmas gift.
"Merry Christmas"
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