The Holidays
I love the holiday season. My family has a history of relatively eccentric holiday celebrations. The more traditional ones start with that glorious six-day break from school and the frenzied polishing of near-antique silver, followed by days of hot turkey sandwiches and mashed potatoes smothered in butter because the gravy ran out two days before.
But once upon a time, when we lived in California, we had Thanksgiving dinner outdoors on a windy mountain near Monterey � though picnic + wind = necessity for much strategic maneuvering of weighty objects. But we had our picnic table overlooking the bay, and we had our coats and hot apple cider to keep us warm in the chilly 55 degree weather; we went hiking on the empty paths of the mountain afterwards, prepping our stomachs for the subsequent consumption of pumpkin pie.
More recently, we ate Thanksgiving dinner sitting on the floor around the round, glass table in our living room. It was rather like eating in a Moroccan restaurant, except that we consumed very traditional American fare, and ate with forks, not fingers. Lately, however, we eat at our traditional dining room table, sitting on upholstered chairs, listening George Winston�s CD December.
Said CD has been a tradition in the Gumerman household ever since it provided a soundtrack to my birth on a December evening in 1987. Yes, I was born at home in front of a glowing fire with piano music playing in the background. Unusual, indeed, but, after all, it was California.
I always used to be upset that my birthday was in December, because celebrating outdoors was out of the question, and all my presents for the year came in one month. Still, I�ve discovered an advantage � why write two thank you notes when a joint birthday-and-Christmas one will do? My mother doesn�t like this solution, but I say save the forests for the moment (they will soon be decimated by the need for wrapping paper).
The holiday season is dusted with community show choir performances. These Christmas performances are interesting � we never know what sort of bizarre area we will have to dance in and what awkward architecture we will have to dance around. There�s also the big choir concert at the high school (a few tantalizing days before Christmas break) that includes Handel�s �Hallelujah Chorus� because, as choir director J. D. Smith likes to say, it�s the easiest way to get a standing ovation.
Ever since my mother tried to get away from the Christmas rush of dutifully buying gifts, my family has operated by a �Christmas Year Around� system, wherein presents were given pretty much as soon as they were purchased. This worked for a while. Yet I started to feel a bit gypped gift-wise. Maybe I�m just a romantic, but there�s nothing quite like a pile of prettily packaged presents with tissue paper and wrapping ribbon just waiting to be opened. The years we�ve gone to Michigan in search of snow, we satisfy my needs for a Christmas gift exchange the evening before with a small mound of stashed gifts. The next day my family and I spend all morning and afternoon cross-country skiing, gliding proficiently (my mother and father), looking proficient (my sister), and falling down on the snow more often than not (me). Each year we hope for snow in Findlay so we can do the same thing in town.
Despite the bruises and the thank you notes, it�s my favorite time of year. So grab yourself a cup of cheer and a hot turkey sandwich, and have a holly jolly Christmas this year � and every other year, too.