This week: Holiday Magic Edited by: Fyn-elf  
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I like to compare the holiday season with the way a child listens to a favorite story. The pleasure is in the familiar way the story begins, the anticipation of familiar turns it takes, the familiar moments of suspense, and the familiar climax and ending. ~~Fred Rogers
Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind. ~~Mary Ellen Chase
You can tell a lot about a person by the way they handle three things: a rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights. ~~Maya Angelou
Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness. ~~Anne Frank
Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time. ~~Laura Ingalls Wilder
The darkness of the whole world cannot swallow the glowing of a candle. ~~Robert Altinger
May you never be too grown up to search the skies on Christmas Eve ~~Unknown
There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it. ~~Edith Wharton
Christmas magic is silent. You don’t hear it — you feel it. You know it. You believe it ~~ Kevin Alan Milne
The spirit of Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, is shared by all people who love freedom. ~~Norma Simon
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.~~John Donne
The most real thing is one's own soul. That may be set down as an axiom; and being true, the real business of life is to keep one's soul in the state of harmony, of love, of joy, in which along is the condition of creative activity. As the most real thing is the soul, so the most unreal thing is any quality opposed to spiritual states, — as envy, hatred, or despair. The circumstances or events that throw us into any of these conditions render us negative to true advancement. And so, measuring life by the ideal, one has no moral right to let himself be so disappointed or depressed or disturbed as to be in any wise turned aside from his real business, — the right living. ~~Lilian Whiting, 1896
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So, I was three years old and with my parents at Santa's Village, Lake George, NY. My grandmother (Annie) had taken me off for a wander as everyone else finished eating. We were supposed to go see Santa before lunch, but he wasn't there. As Annie and I wandered off towards the barns, we heard bells. Annie pointed and together we watched Santa and his sleigh, pulled by reindeer landed and then trotted up to the barn.
As Santa climbed out of the sleigh and walked through the gate, I ran up to him and said how we saw him land. He got down on one knee, held my shoulder, and went 'Shhh! - please don't ever tell anyone you caught me, okay?'
Annie always said, long, long before it was a 'thing' that "One should believe in Santa just beclause." No one will ever, EVER convince me that I didn't see what I saw.
Fast forward almost forty years. In a mall with my mom and my then nine-year-old daughter. My daughter did not want to pose for a picture with Santa even if it would make her grandmother happy. I believe there were some not-so-subtle threats aimed in her direction and eventually, she did as asked. I mean, the last thing anyone wants is a kid in line to be screaming they don't believe in Santa. She posed with her best 'fake' smile, and then answered his query by whispering in his ear. She smirked, hopped off and she and my mother headed in one direction and I headed to the bookstore.
About ten minutes later, I felt a light tap on my shoulder, turned around, and there stood Santa. 'I know just about everything," he says with a smile. "But can you please tell me that YOU know what 'purple Christmas Magic' is?"
I smiled. I explained that after the kids went to bed, Glittery hearts or stars or trees were 'somehow' scattered around the tree, in the stocking, and were inside any gift from Santa. I told him we'd never had purple Christmas magic before, though.
"Your daughter told me that, if I was real, there'd be purple Christmas magic."
"No problem, Santa. I'll keep you covered," I smiled.
"You always have," he said turning and walking away.
Christmas morning I woke to my youngest SCREAMING at the top of her lungs, loud enough to hear at the North Pole, how she hadn't told a soul about purple magic and it was everywhere and it proved Santa was real. Yeah, I smiled to myself, I knew that!
Over the years there have been lean Christmases and lonely ones too. Others, where the house was filled to the rafters with kids, their spouses, grandkids, great-grandkids, and a hodgepodge of dogs running through just adding to the mayhem and chaos. There is usually at least one somebody who would otherwise be alone and everyone has stockings, presents, and a seat at the table. Sometimes the whole menagerie hits midnight night mass, other years, we all go outside and sing carols under the stars. There is nothing more beautiful than the sounds of myriad voices singing Silent Night outside under lightly falling snow.
I find so much joy in finding stuff for all the folks on my list. The excitement of looking forward to everyone's fun just adds to the joy. We decorate everywhere and have two trees. We have a traditional one in the front room, centered on the bay window and reflected yet again by the wall mirror on the other side of the room. In our three-season room, complete with a wood stove is our 'Maui' tree. (FYI - did you know that Concolor trees are great in a room with a wood stove or fireplace? Plus, they smell like orange blossoms - different but nice all the same!
It all just makes me happy. Sure, it was hard after my folks passed away, but then I knew my parents would want us to go onward and not let anything bring down the joy of their favorite season. We've brought old traditions forward and developed new ones. I feel the folks wafting through and sometimes, I can swear I hear their giggles and laughter.
This has been an incredibly difficult last few months. I've lost a dear, dear friend, as well as a woman I consider my 'pseudo-mom.' Friends and neighbors have lost family members as well. Some can't, aren't ready to, or simply don't believe that they can celebrate this season because of family or friends they've lost. They can't face the season without that loved one. Personally, I need to. I need to remember them and remember how much they were into the holiday. It is okay for me to go on and find joy. I truly believe they would want me to so do. And, if along the way, I have some difficult moments, that's okay too because I will wish they were still a part of it all - and they will be albeit in a different sort of fashion.
Christmas memories that include them will just be more poignant this year, I expect. But then, that's why I have ornaments of theirs on our trees and why I will find special someones to receive gifts already picked out for the ones who have passed. And, they, in turn, will not only 'get' how special this makes them to me, but appreciate and remember as well.
One Christmas, when I was just a kid, we lost power. Dad bribed the electric company guys with booze to stay and restore our power. Amazing what a case of whatever it was they each left with could accomplish! We cooked hotdogs over the flames in the fireplace. Although the tree wasn't lit, firelight reflected in all the glass balls and it was beautiful. To this day, over sixty years later we always have hotdogs on Christmas Eve.
Christmas stockings always have an orange (or tangerine) and a walnut in the toe. According to my grandmother, this started in the pre-fridge days of the depression as fresh fruit in the winter was a very special treat! She always said that having an orange and a walnut meant you were as rich as rich could be -- even if that and a pair of new mittens were all you got for Christmas. A memory. A reminder. To this day, the stocking always has the walnut and an orange in the toe!
Another Christmas up on our mountain, I snuck down early in the morning. I was far too excited to sleep! Everyone else in the house seemed to be sound asleep, but I was wide awake. Quietly, I crept down the stairs to the living room. The fireplace was just barely lit as the logs were no more than glowing embers. I was glad I'd wrapped my blanket around me because it was cold, but I was happy the fire was almost out. I wouldn't have wanted Santa to catch fire. When I walked across the big room and looked at the tree, I was shocked. It looked exactly as it had the night before. There were no presents under it at all. Our stocking hung limp and empty. I was so upset, but then, I thought that maybe Santa just hadn't gotten to our house yet. I curled up on the couch to wait for Santa, to wait for Christmas. Suddenly I was so sleepy. I really tried to stay awake but I couldn't. I remembered my grandmother saying that Santa wouldn't come if we were awake. But I'd seen him fly, so it really shouldn't matter. My mom woke me up in the morning. I opened my eyes to see filled stockings and all manner of presents piled under the tree! Lying next to me on the couch was a new teddy bear. How on earth had I slept through that? I woke up if the dog jumped on the bed! Mom said it was the Christmas magic.
My youngest daughter and her husband arrive late in the evening from his mom's house. They come tumbling in with arms full of presents and a very rambunctious dog. It might be ten in the evening, but we eat hotdogs and sing carols to the night skies. We each open that Christmas Eve present of Christmas jammies. Santa is always left cookies and I go to be first because there always are things for Mom/Wife that can't go out until I'm in bed. The pile is always bigger in the morning and yes, Christmas Magic will be scattered from one end of the house to the other by morning!
She will awaken me with coffee if she's up before I am. Regardless of the fact that the last one was in bed about one in the morning, we'll be up by four. I stoke the fire and she lets the dogs out for a frosty morning romp. Then, the two of us curl up in front of the fire and enjoy the peace, the quiet, the anticipation, and the joy. We always mention Christmases' past, bring up this memory or that, cry a little, laugh a lot and enjoy each other. When the dogs come back in, we send them to wake up the hubbies and we get our men their coffee.
Hours later, the second, third, fourth, and fifth waves will arrive each with a flurry of presents and excitement, more dogs, sister-in-law, stray friends, kids, grands, and greats. Dinner will happen scattered across however many tables are needed. Noise levels will be ear-splitting. It'll be a really good day even though some faces will be missing.
We'll create new memories all of which will be fodder for bits and pieces of them to be incorporated into whatever I'll be writing down the road. Memories are not insubstantial wisps of thought. They warm, they chill, they are evoked by smells and sights, and they are visceral. They have the ability to add new levels and layers to our writing. Part and parcel of the very act of living, memories of either our experiences or transformed into those of a character, should and need to be relived, remembered, and brought forward. They connect us to each other in many odd and lovely ways. So too, they help readers connect to our characters, adding new levels of realism, empathy, and shared connections.
Memories ARE magical!
Whatever, whichever holidays you celebrate, I hope they are everything you want and/or need them to be.
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What are some of your favorite memories?
From when you were little or maybe even older?
What made them special?
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Why?
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