Christmas spirit and rituals

I was at my local library yesterday and came across a 50th anniversary edition of my Christmas favourite, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Needless to say, I snapped it up and brought it home to savour. I have the book myself, but not the additional background about how the Grinch has evolved over the past 50 years!

I don't really have too many traditions around Christmas but 'His Honour the Grinch' is one of them. When I was a child, Christmas was a combination of what my mother created for us, and what was created at school, which wasn't non-denominational in those days! I didn't meet Mr Grinch until I was an adult and when I did, it was through the CBC half-hour TV program, usually on at the beginning of December at 7pm. I find myself waiting for it each year and I watch it alone. I haven't met anyone yet, adult or child, who likes it the way I do.

I confess that part of it is Boris Karlov's deep, accented voice. I also love the songs and the sound effects. I watched it once with kids and they didn't like my singing along. Can't say I blame them, but I do like to do it. And I never get the words quite right! I had the pleasure of reading the story to Julie's class in Toronto one year. I think what I like best about the story is how his heart finally grows three sizes when he realizes that Christmas doesn't come from a store. "Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small, was singing! Without any presents at all!"

The best part of Christmas for me was the lead-up. I loved making, buying and wrapping presents, making cards, decorating the tree and the bonhomie that seemed to envelope the neighbourhood and the city. Everyone wished one another a Merry Christmas and it seemed to me that, at least at that time of the year, people actually meant it.

I went carol-singing from door to door and had hot chocolate afterwards, we sang at school, packed Christmas hampers full of food and toys and there were school concerts. The world seemed to suspend disbelief and pettiness and be kinder and more forgiving than was the norm. More things seemed possible than we might believe in January or February when the snow had become gray with road dirt, the wind was cutting and the soft, snowy glow of the sparkling lights had been turned off.

Two parts of my German heritage made it into our Christmas rituals. One was the celebration of St. Nikolas who visited on the night of December 5th and put chocolates in our slippers. There was always a threat that he wouldn't come if we were bad, or that his compatriot, Black Peter, would leave a lump of coal. I didn't truly understand the lore behind this until I was an adult and researched it for my niece and nephew. I seemed to be able to keep this figure separate from the Santa Claus who came down the chimney a few weeks later. Kent and I counted the days 'til both occasions on our advent calendars, which we kept propped in the window where the daylight could shine through the little cardboard windows.

The second ritual came in the form of the German Christmas bread called stollen, which my mother learned to make shortly after she got married; a bread studded with dried fruit and almonds, which we had with coffee on Christmas morning. We only opened our presents on Christmas Eve once, the way the Germans do. It fell flat for me, I suspect because the rest of the tradition was unfamiliar and absent.

Religious observances were not a part of our lives and Christmas was no exception, although we did know and understand the story. We didn't go to church all year and Christmas was no exception. One year I enjoyed watching my mother make a nativity scene out of cardboard. It resurfaced for few years afterwards.

I always thought that Christmas should be a time filled with family occasions and reunions. Unfortunately that didn't mesh with a little nuclear immigrant family, or a father who went to the airport every other year and saw off a flight to London. I admit to pining after the advertised warm glow of chestnuts roasting on the open fire and the big, crazy family events, even though my friends who seemed to have it always let me know in no uncertain terms that it wasn't always as great in practice as it would seem in theory.

Now-a-days, I spend Christmas with my mother, quietly and with good food and good whiskey, and sometimes even chestnuts. For many years we did family things that were less than comfortable and now we don't. For many of the last ten years, I would go upstairs and visit with Aidan and family on Christmas morning, but last year and this, he and Fleur have been and will be in Australia. With Geoff gone it would be very different anyway but I miss them up there.

I love the way Janet celebrates Christmas but I've never been able to spend Christmas with her. She has some great personal and community rituals. In fact, she's great at rituals altogether, and at sharing them with me. So is my friend Zoe, but she's Jewish and celebrates at a different time. My friend Julie and her family do Christmas well, in the truly English sense, with a twist of Australian. They have the paper hats out of the crackers, and the silly games, the traditional foods and all the transported English friends whose families are in England. I've spent a couple of Christmases with her over the years. My friend Claudia does a great German Christmas, in Germany. I haven't spent it with her either but I always get a little package of it from her in the mail.

At the moment, I seem to have a group of friends who don't celebrate Christmas, or don't really feel connected to the time of year, some because of the commercialization. I'd love to be able to flit around the world on Christmas Day and visit Germany, England, Scotland, Whitehorse, Victoria, and Australia. You'd think a psychic person could teleport! I really like the international quality to my friends in Vancouver but they don't really 'do' the season. Maybe I'll get the chance to do something about that this year. Just because it isn't their celebration doesn't mean they can't join in!